Chapter 13
He didn't take long. Within minutes, Euan was back, a crumpled paper bag in hand. He thrust it at her without ceremony. "Here ye go, lass."
Sage blinked at the weight of it, her brows lifting as she peered inside. Pads of different brands, tampons, painkillers, even a little packet of wipes. He'd thought of everything. She opened her mouth, but he was already scanning the street.
Suspicion prickled up her spine. "And why would I follow a complete stranger down a dark street?"
"Suit yerself." He started off anyway, long strides eating the pavement. She hesitated, then sighed and trailed after him.
When she slowed, he glanced back with a scowl. "God above, women are slow."
That earned him a sharp look. "Women aren't slow, you colossal idiot. Maybe men just don't have a clue about them. Honestly, do they clone you all somewhere? Same face, same manners, completely clueless—all Grinches out of the box?"
His mouth twitched. "Is that a fact?"
She hummed pointedly, chin lifted.
They walked on in silence until the sign of a weathered inn appeared ahead: Red Mill Inn. Euan pushed open the door and led her inside to reception.
Behind the desk stood a lovely blonde woman with a dazzling smile. A baby gurgled in a basket on the counter right next to her. The woman leaned over the counter, practically glowing at Euan, and launched into ten minutes of chatter that left him unable to wedge in more than a grunt here or there.
Sage watched, arms crossed, fighting the oddest curl of amusement.
Then, from the corridor, a blur of black swept into the room.
A young woman of about eighteen, and in full goth from head to toe, bolted across the lobby and launched herself into Euan's chest. He caught her effortlessly, his face lighting up in a smile so brilliant, Sage's stomach dipped.
Before ,the Grinch was handsome but now he looked breathtaking.
"How's my wee Blair today?" he asked, his voice warm. His accent wasn't strong, but the lilting Scottish slipped through sometimes, softening the edges of his roughness.
The girl lit up, her black-lined pale eyes flashing.
"School's fine. Well, mostly fine. Mr. Graham is still being a total pain in the arse, but I finished that dovetail project.
He even said it was good, which, coming from him, is basically sainthood.
" She couldn't stand still with excitement, hands flying as she spoke.
"And Heath says I'm getting quicker in the workshop; he might even let me try carving mantels soon.
Imagine that! Me, shaping a fireplace mantel. "
Euan's mouth twitched as he nodded along, eyes steady on her. "Aye, you'll be wanting to try your hand at that fireplace soon, aye? Oh, that's a new piercing, isn't it?"
Blair grinned, tilting her head to show off the tiny stud glinting on the curve of her ear.
She already had several scattered up both ears, and Sage noticed a glimmer on her nose too.
With her dark hair streaked in coloured locks—purple and silver woven through the black—she looked every inch the rebellious teenager, defiant and unafraid of being seen.
"Do you like it?" she pressed, chin tilted.
Euan gave a put-upon sigh, but his smile gave him away. "You'll run out o' space soon, wee magpie."
The girl smirked, victorious, and launched right back into a story about school, all her attention fixed on him.
Sage watched, silent and missing her son.
The sting came sharp and unbidden. David used to chatter like that to her before teenage hit—football drills, friends, which teacher was unfair.
Somewhere along the way, the rhythm of their relationship had shifted.
Lately, he wouldn't meet her eyes, and now she knew why.
Anger rose like a tide. Why did Ronin do this to us?
She wrapped her arms around herself, pushing the ache down.
Euan looked utterly different with this girl, unguarded and tender, as though every wall he'd built fell away just to make space for her voice.
Sage tried to keep up, but some of the words blurred together, and she found herself oddly fascinated just listening. The goth girl, however, shot her a look that could strip paint. She glued herself to Euan's side, chattering at him as though Sage didn't exist.
Sage cleared her throat. "Excuse me? Could I use the restroom?"
The girl gave her a knowing look before she sneered. "Bringing strays again?"
"Now, Blair." His voice held gentle authority. "Behave, lass. This is Sage," he added, turning to Sage. "This is—"
"No one," Blair cut in, still glaring.
Sage ignored her.
The blonde receptionist finally handed over the keys, and Sage paid in cash. Before she could protest, Euan picked up her bag and jerked his head towards the stairs. "I'll show ye up."
She eyed him warily. "This isn't a scam, is it?"
Amusement flickered in his eyes. "Nah. That comes later, when I talk ye into a Highland tour."
A strange feeling separated from the pain in the pit of her stomach. She arched a brow. "And will you?"
"No." His grin was fleeting as he used the key to open a door. "At least, not today. This is your room."
He pushed the door open to reveal a lovely, tidy bedroom with a queen-sized bed. She slipped past him to look around as he dropped her bag onto the quilt. Belatedly, he seemed to realize he had been letting the women chatter away while she was in pain and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Alright, let's try this again. My name's Euan Robertson."
She hesitated. "Sage." A pause. "Just Sage." She had almost said O'Clery, but stopped herself. She'd legally changed it a week before her wedding, and never once felt the urge to change it back.
Sage cleared her throat. "Do you...happen to know a cheaper place around here? This is lovely, but I can't exactly stretch to a week of it."
Euan studied her, his brows pulling together. "Aye, I know a place. I'll take ye tomorrow."
Her instinct was to refuse—she didn't know him—but the way he said it, steady and certain, made her nod instead.
He hesitated, then pulled out his phone. "Best give ye my number."
She had her screen on before her self-protective instincts kicked in, and he stood over her as she typed it in.
His presence felt enormous, filling the small space between them.
He was crazy good-looking, he smelled of a woodsy aftershave and it was making her a little stupid.
When she looked up, expecting him to turn away, he was still there, watching.
"Well?" His voice was low, almost amused. "Ring me so I've got yers tae, aye?"
Sage raised a brow but pressed the button anyway. His phone buzzed in his palm, and the faintest smile curved his mouth.
They stood in awkward silence until she gave him a pointed look. "Alright then. I'm beat."
He nodded once, seeming to realize he was holding her up. "Rest, lass." And then he was gone.
She locked the door, stripped off, and stepped into the shower, rinsing out her jeans, underwear, and the towel she'd ruined. When she opened the paper bag, her brows rose at the sight—extra-absorbent pads, plus two other varieties. Thoughtful in the most embarrassing way.
There were also a phone charger and a couple of strips of Panadol and Nurofen.
Plugging in her phone, she tried David again, but he didn't pick up. She hadn't picked up any of Ronin's calls, either. She scrolled through his last texts, though most of them were little more than 'please come back'.
She missed his warmth, the way he used to hold her after a fight, as if he could press the argument out of existence.
How, when she was bone-tired, he would tug her feet into his lap and rub them until she dozed off against his shoulder.
It all seemed like such a long time ago now, another life that didn't quite feel like it belonged to her anymore.
A sigh escaped her chest. She was too tired to think. She swallowed the painkillers with a glass of water from the tap, slid beneath the covers, and fell asleep before her head hit the pillow.