Always Conall (Bitterroot #2) by Sibylla Matilde Read Free Book Online Page A

sensation constantly swirled in my abdomen. Everywhere I went, I felt like I was under a microscope. This neurotic dread followed me around, invading my mind.
    Because, after all this time, I knew he was finally home.
    After I’d left the lake a few nights before, I’d been able to think of nothing but Conall. The different expressions that had shown in his eyes – wonder, sorrow, guilt, remembrance. Their rich, chocolaty brown depths framed with thick, black lashes revealed the depth of his remorse in the way things had turned out.
    There had been a huge shift from the physical image I’d carried around for so long, that of a lanky teenager, a boy on the verge of becoming a man. He was hardly ever serious when we were growing up, always quite the joker. Both he and Matt had delighted in doing what they could to rile me up. Even as I pretended to be annoyed and frustrated, I had secretly loved it. I played the perfect victim to their bully roles, reveling in the mordant arch to Conall’s brow when he was teasing me. The flash of his cocky smile and the wink of his eye.
    A squeal from Mattie as she ran through another misty rainbow brought me out of my revelry. I glanced at my phone to check the time. The sun had begun to cast long shadows across the valley, and my tummy was starting to grumble for sustenance. Which meant Mattie was probably about half-starved. Throwing on my mesh swimsuit cover-up, I collected my daughter to head home.
    As we lazily strolled to my car, Mattie jabbered on about rainbows and ponies and that she wanted spaghetti for dinner.
    “We’ll have to stop at the store then, monkey.”
    “And get ice cream, too?” she asked hopefully, smiling up at me out of the corner of her eye.
    I gave her a sidelong glance, trying to look serious and stern like I had every intention of saying no, but ultimately grinning back. “Yeah, I’d kinda like some ice cream too.”
    “Yippee!” she squealed as she skipped towards the car ahead of me.
    At the store, Mattie pushed the tyke-sized shopping cart through the aisles, loaded with Italian sausage, garlic and onion, tomato sauce, French bread, and spaghetti noodles as we made our way to the frozen food section. My spaghetti sauce was fairly simple. No Italian masterpiece, by all means, but it wasn ’t a nasty jar sauce either. It was also one sure-fire food that Mattie would eat, as long as I chopped up the garlic and onion super tiny so she didn’t notice it.
    “What flavor of ice cream are we looking for? Banana for my  little monkey?”
    She spat out an adorable little cackle, and studiously looked up through the glass doors at the plethora of ice cream flavors before us.
    “Ooooh, Oreo,” she exclaimed when she saw her favorite.
    How I wished that everything excited me as much as Oreo ice cream thrilled my daughter. Or Oreo pie. Or Oreo Blizzards. Oreo anything, really. I grabbed a carton, placing it in her little cart, and turned to head toward the check stand.
    But at the end of the aisle stood Conall.
    He seemed almost frozen, beautifully statuesque. His broad shoulders tense, his biceps clenched tightly under the snug fit of his t-shirt. Mattie remained oblivious to the sudden charge in the air as Conall’s eyes locked on mine for a moment. His lids lowered and he inhaled deeply before returning his focus to me, then to Mattie who had suddenly realized that I’d stopped walking.
    “Conall,” I breathed as I stepped up beside Mattie, putting my hand on the top of her head. His eyes lifted from our daughter to me, and a pang of sorrow reflected in their depths.
    As I spoke, Mattie glanced up at me, following my focus to Conall. Studying him closely, her little brow furrowed as she stared at him curiously.
    “Hey,” he said gently in return before he glanced back down at Mattie.
    “Mattie, this… this is Conall.” My voice sounded weak and fragile as I smoothed a lock of hair on her little head. Mattie, still seeming concerned by my