Chapter 41 Summer
FORTY-ONE
SUMMER
Iwake up alone in bed. For a few minutes, I stare up at the wooden ceiling beams, my mind going over last night.
Last night.
I roll over and bury my face into Alec’s pillow, happiness popping in me. Lulu is going to die when I tell her.
A rooster crows outside, and I check the clock on the bedside table. It’s after eight. I bet the men started work hours ago. I’m not sure what to do. I guess I’m officially on a break now.
Back home, I usually wake up and immediately hop onto my phone to answer comments or check my email. It’s weird not having anything to do. I roll out of bed and grab one of the guys’ abandoned T-shirts from the floor. I yank it on and glance around curiously.
Alec’s room is orderly and very clean. He doesn’t have a lot of stuff—a wardrobe, a desk, an armchair next to a few built-in bookshelves.
I drift over to snoop. The shelves are packed full, stuffed several volumes deep.
The bottom shelves are full of textbooks with names like Sheep and Their Diseases: Volume Two and Animal Welfare: An Ethical Perspective on Husbandry.
Nearer the top of the bookcase, Alec has a collection of classics.
Far From the Madding Crowd. Great Expectations. North and South.
I scowl at the book. We had to read North and South in secondary school.
I almost failed my English GCSE because of it.
It was just impossible for me to read. The copies the school handed out were cheap, with tiny font that kept mixing up in my brain.
I had to embarrassedly tell my teacher that it was a nightmare for my dyslexia.
After a lot of huffing and puffing, she had me loan an audiobook of it from the library, but that wasn’t much better.
The story was so meandering and slow that trying to pay attention to it was like torture.
Every five minutes, I had to rewind my cassette player because I’d zoned out.
I got more and more desperate and furious at myself, staying up late into the night to force myself to listen to it while retaining nothing.
I probably spent about a hundred hours trying to read that damn book, and I still never managed to finish it. I remember the blinding panic of sitting in the exam hall and not being able to write anything.
When I got my results back, Mum was furious. I remember her demanding a meeting with my school. My English teacher smiling at her mildly.
Some children just aren’t gifted in certain subjects, Mrs Faye. There’s nothing I can do about that. We gave her accommodations to help. All of her classmates managed fine. We can’t make her understand.
My stomach turns at the memory. Alec’s copy of the book is so worn it’s held together with tape. He’s reread it multiple times. He reads this kind of stuff for fun.
I’m not surprised. He’s obviously clever. Clever and driven and focused and work-oriented. Just like my mum.
I hear low voices coming from the kitchen.
I’m about to go join the guys when something else on the bookshelf catches my eye.
A faded photograph of the three men as children.
They must be about eleven. All of them are in school uniforms—white shirts and grey shorts.
Cameron is staring solemnly at the camera, a streak of mud on his face.
Alec is smiling slightly, a book tucked under his arm.
Fraser is flashing a peace sign. I couldn’t stop my smile if I tried.
Behind it, there’s one more photograph in a small silver frame. It’s tucked right into the corner of the shelf. Feeling like a sneaky little weasel, I edge it out.
It’s a picture of teenage Alec with a man I can only assume is his dad.
He looks a lot like an older version of Alec, tall and handsome.
But something about his expression sends a chill through me.
He has cold shark eyes. His hand, clasped on Alec’s shoulder, looks tight enough to hurt.
Alec isn’t smiling. There’s a blank look on his face, as if he’s not fully there.
There’s a sudden boom of Fraser’s laughter from the kitchen, and I quickly put the photo back. Nerves pluck inside me.
What happens now? Was last night a one-off? Will they go back to work and leave me be? I check myself out in the mirror. I’m a mess. My hair is a bird’s nest, and I have makeup smeared around my eyes. I try to make myself presentable and quickly give up. If I’m a mess, it’s their fault.
When I get to the kitchen, Cameron is at the stove cooking. Fraser and Alec are both at the table. Fraser is holding a wriggly Crumpet under one arm and feeding her with a bottle, and Alec is on the phone. He sounds angry.
“You don’t need to repeat the figures, Councillor,” he says as I pause in the doorway.
“I’m not debating your numbers. I’m saying that your insistence on driving up our costs while every other farm in Scotland is receiving relief is clearly targeted.
This is illegal, and I will take you to court if necessary.
” He pauses. “What services? You don’t even take the wheelie bins out. The locals fix their own potholes. I—”
Crumpet notices me and bleats happily. Alec glances up. His face glosses over, like he doesn’t want me seeing him like this. “Fine,” he snaps. “I’ll be in touch with your supervisor.” He slams the phone onto the table.
“Hey,” I say awkwardly, hanging back. “Er, good morning. Everything okay?”
Fraser leans over the back of his chair and grins at me. “Morning, London. C’mere.” He settles Crumpet down. She headbutts my calf and skitters off towards the lounge. Fraser yanks me onto his jeaned leg, pulling me in for a rough kiss. “How are you feelin’?” he rumbles.
“Good,” I breathe. “I had a good night.”
He grins. “You are so cute.” His hand slides up my leg, big fingers pausing at the red marks sucked into my skin. “Well, well. Who did all this then?”
“Me,” Alec says, picking up his coffee mug.
“You did a beautiful job,” Fraser tells him, and Alec inclines his head. “You mark up real pretty, honey.”
“Um, thanks.” I wiggle off his lap and into the empty chair between him and Alec. At the stove, Cameron starts sliding food onto plates. “Hey, Cameron,” I say.
He comes over and sets a massive cooked breakfast in front of me. “Make her eat,” he mutters to Fraser.
“She has a name,” I point out. “And eyeballs. You can look at them, if you want.”
Cameron just grunts and heads back to the stove. But his hip intentionally nudges me, which I think is the equivalent of a good-morning kiss from Cameron. I smile to myself.
“How are you feeling?” Alec asks me.
“Great.” I nod at his phone. “What about you? That sounded tense.”
His mouth curls. “The local council is…making things difficult for me. They’re being intransigent.”
“I don’t know what that word means,” I admit.
“Inflexible. They’re not seeing reason. I’m not sure what they want me to do. I won’t beg.”
“You did for me,” I tease, biting into my toast.
Alec raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And when was this?”
“Last night! You said”—I make my voice all low and dramatic—“‘please let me kiss you.’”
His grey eyes are calm. “That’s not begging. That was a request.”
My mouth falls open. “Please! You said please!”
He shrugs. “It was a polite request. I’m a polite man.” He leans in, and my entire body heats as his lips brush my neck. “You, on the other hand, begged so prettily for me,” he murmurs. My mouth falls open as he trails his lips down the side of my throat, biting softly at the hinge of my jaw.
And then he pulls back and takes a sip of coffee.
I grab a fistful of his shirt, furious. “I swear,” I declare, “I will have you begging for me before I leave.”
He looks amused. “You can try.”
“You’ll be on your knees,” I inform him. “You’ll probably be crying.”
Alec throws back his head and laughs. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him laugh, and I’m a bit taken aback. Both Fraser and Cameron look up and stare, like they’re surprised too.
Alec collects himself. “Your phone has been ringing, by the way. You left it in the lounge last night.” He slides it across the table towards me.
Wow. When was the last time I slept without my phone by my bed? I take a bite of eggs, chewing as I check the screen. I muted all of my social media notifications yesterday, but I’m still getting emails through. My stomach sinks as I read through them.
SUBJECT: A Change in Our Partnership
SUBJECT: Parting ways
SUBJECT: Notice of contract termination
Oh God. I feel sick. Clearly, the article has had an effect. I put my fork down and force myself to take a deep breath, but I feel panic bubbling up inside me.
What if this just keeps getting worse? What if I lose my job completely over a drunken breakdown? I keep scrolling through my emails. It doesn’t take long until I find the one I’m looking for. The email I hoped I’d never, ever get.
SUBJECT: ICONS ONLY COLLABORATION—PLEASE READ
I know what it’ll say, but I open it anyway.
Dear Summer,
We at Icons Only want to thank you for your enthusiasm in partnering with our brand. Unfortunately, due to recent developments, we have to rescind our offer of a prospective partnership at this time.
Wishing you all the best,
The Icons Only Content Team
I feel flat. Well, that’s that then. I won’t be designing my own clothes after all.
I’m not really surprised. I’ve already failed at this dream once before.
“Problem?” Alec says.
I try to school my face into something normal. “Oh, um, I’ve just been dropped from a big deal. This company called Icons Only wanted me to do a fashion design collaboration with them, but—” I force a smile onto my face. “Guess they’ve changed their minds.”
Fraser groans loudly. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I know that one was really important to you.” He takes my hand, squeezing my fingers. “You don’t need them. You went to fashion school. You can design clothes without them.”
I don’t answer. Alec opens his arms. “Come here,” he orders. I obediently perch on his knee, and he looks over my shoulder, reading the email. “Is it just this one?” he asks.
“Nope.” I show him my inbox. “I’ve lost most of my sponsors. No one wants to touch me right now.” I can’t even blame them, to be honest. It’s just business.
He’s sombre as he reads the subject lines. “You should delete your social media,” he says eventually. “Email too. All of it. If you’re taking a break, no one should be able to contact you.”
I nod. It’s the most logical thing to do, but it feels massive. Before the scandal, I probably checked my accounts fifty times a day. Responding to comments, chatting with followers, charging up my self-esteem.
It’s a bit pathetic, really.
“You don’t have to,” Alec starts, seeing me waver.
“No! No. You’re right. I’m doing it. Give me a sec.” I delete my social media apps, open my email, and tap out an Out of Office message.
Thanks for emailing! I’m currently on a break, so please contact my manager for urgent inquiries. Sorry for the inconvenience!
I can feel Alec’s warm breath on the back of my neck as I spell-check it, and suddenly feel self-conscious. I hate writing in front of other people. “Um.” I show it to him. “Is this okay?”
He reaches forwards and deletes the apology at the end of the message. “Don’t apologise. You’re doing nothing wrong.”
I set the automation and delete my email app. As it vanishes from my home screen, I feel like a noise that’s been running in the back of my head for the last few years suddenly shuts off. My brain feels emptier.
I flop back against Alec’s chest, hearing the birds tweeting outside. “I have no idea what to do now,” I admit. I need to update Lulu. That will be a fun conversation. And then…nothing. I’ll have nothing to do.
Alec kisses the top of my head. “Well, we’re going to be shearing all day today.”
I nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep myself busy.” Maybe I’ll go down to the town or something. See if Isla is free for me to do her makeup.
“I was actually going to ask if you wanted to help.”
I twist to look at him. “Wait, really? I can help?”
“Aye, we need all hands on deck when we’re shearing.” He runs a big palm over my bare leg. “Fair warning. It can be very dirty work.”
“I’ll get dirty,” I say, ignoring Fraser’s snort. “I want to help.” Anything would be better than moping around uselessly.
Alec nods. “Finish your breakfast then. We start in thirty minutes.”