“I saw the way you looked at her at the Highland Games and when she showed up at your match. You’re in love with that girl if ever I’ve seen love.” My face bends at his words. “You can’t know that, Grandad. I’ve never even been in love.” “Of course you’re in love with her, you wee idiot!” he fires back, his voice gruff and unapologetic. “You’ve been playing like shite here in Glasgow, not because you’re at a new club or because I’m dying. You’re miserable because you don’t have that bonnie freckle-faced lass in your life to keep your head on straight. I’ve seen the loss of her in your eyes
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