Chapter 33
The letter was like an oasis in the desert. Sage held it to her chest for a long time before unfolding it again, her fingers brushing over the paper as though it carried warmth from his hands. She smelt the paper, imagining his woodsy scent between the pages.
She read it in the kitchen, propped against the counter while pasta sauce bubbled on the hob.
Later, she slipped it into her pocket when she walked to the shops, a secret comfort she kept touching.
That night, tucked into bed, she read it again before switching off the light, the words circling through her head long after her eyes closed.
At last, she picked up the phone and dialled.
"Euan," she whispered when he answered on the second ring.
"Lass," he said softly. "Did ye get it?"
"I did. Your letter...it means more to me than I can say. But ..."
There was a pause. Then Euan's voice, softer, almost teasing. "Oh, big words scare you, lass? Do ye mean like love? And forever? I ken you'd think it's daft...a confession like that."
Sage shifted on the bed, lowering her voice. "Euan...we've only known each other six weeks. And I was there for barely ten days."
He sighed, a low, warm rumble. "My da married my mam one week after he met her. Always swore he knew straight away. I never believed it until I met you. They ran off tae Gretna Green, would you believe that? Her da was so furious, he near made her a widow when they came back cap in hand."
Sage was quiet for a long moment. "We barely know each other."
"We know enough," Euan said firmly. "We've chemistry.
I want tae jump yer bones, and you want tae jump mine—let's no' pretend otherwise.
But more than that...I did kidnap ye in a way, didn't I?
Like the old days." She could hear the smile in his voice.
"So, think of that letter not as a love letter, but a letter of intent.
It says, I'm coming for you. The question is, will ye give me a chance? "
Her heart thudded, traitorously fast. "Okay..."
Too soon...too soon, her lizard brain warned.
There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice had grown more serious.
"Blair finally sat down wi' me—her boyfriend strong-armed her into it.
I think her running to me every time she has a problem instead of talking it out with him is not helping their relationship.
She admitted she was worried I'd go off and leave her behind.
I told her she'll always be my family, but I need to live my own life as well.
She cried a lot, but finally agreed to go into therapy.
She is twenty-two this week and I am not doing the lass any favours treating her like a child. So, I've some plans in place."
Sage frowned faintly. "What kind of plans?"
"You'll know soon enough when everything's decided."
That afternoon, Sage wandered into the second-hand bookshop on High Street. She'd meant to browse and to lose herself in the rows of worn paperbacks, but instead, she found a Chinese, red lacquer, hand-painted keepsake box, delicate and luminous even under the harsh shop light.
The first thing she tucked inside was Euan's letter. Then, she placed it on the top shelf of her closet.
The house felt cavernous when she came back downstairs. Once, she had dreamed of this house—an eighteenth-century masterpiece, lovingly restored with her own sweat and imagination. Every architrave, every plastered wall, every painted sill had held a piece of her heart.
But fourteen years had passed, and her dreams had changed. Now she wanted something smaller, easier to keep, closer to life and people and noise. Not this echoing mausoleum.
That evening, over dinner, she asked David, "How would you feel about moving closer to the city? Not too close so you'd still go to your old school."
He paused, fork midway to his mouth. "Can we discuss this like mum and teenager?"
Sage smiled faintly. "Yes. But hear me out first."
He set his fork down, narrowing his eyes. "Why now?"
"Because in a year and a half, you'll be thinking about A-levels. You've been talking about St. Peter's for months. And that's in the city."
David's shoulders hunched. "Patrick and Mauve are going there next year," he muttered thoughtfully.
"Exactly. Your friends will be there. If we're closer, you won't be spending half your life commuting."
"It's not that bad," he argued, though without much conviction.
Sage raised her brows. "David, it's nearly two hours back and forth if we stay here. Every day. You'd hate it after the first week."
He picked at the edge of his plate, thoughtful. "I could bike it if it were closer," he offered, testing the idea aloud.
"You could," Sage said gently. "And if you don't feel like it, there are trains, buses. You'd have options...options we don't have here."
David sighed, shoulders slumping as he pushed food around his plate. "Alright. I get it. I just...don't like the idea of leaving."
Sage reached across again, her hand light on his. "I know. And listen, I'm not in a hurry. We don't have to pack up tomorrow or even next month. This is just us talking it through."
His eyes flicked up, wary but searching. "You are sad here."
She didn't deny it.
"Yes, I am. Being this far from everything is making the idea of starting over feel like a huge mountain I will need to climb. But you'll have the final say, I promise," she added firmly. "If you really don't want to move, then we won't. Simple as that."
David let out a slow breath, the tension easing a fraction from his face. "Okay. That makes me feel better."
"Good." She gave him a small smile. "Think about it—that's all I'm asking."
He gave a reluctant smile back. "Fine. I'll think about it. But only if I have the final veto power."
A slow smile curved on Sage's face. "Deal."