Chapter 4
THEO
“Theo!”
I jump at the sound of Isla shouting across the field.
“WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE!”
Shit.
I stand between the cows, barely breathing, wondering if she can see me or if she’s just guessing that I’m out here.
“Theodore MacLeod, you better get your arse up here right now. Don’t make me come and get you.”
With a growl, I step out from my cow-cover. “Another reason why I don’t date, can you imagine if I ended up with someone like that?” I mutter.
Heather lets out an indignant huff.
“Of course you’d side with her.”
As I trudge back across the muddy field towards my cousin, I can see her face is pure rage. There’s no time to gather my thoughts before she unleashes on me.
“Your bloody face! Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? Did you hit one of my guests?”
Guest? I keep the stone wall between us as a barrier, almost certain she’d grab me if I were closer. “I could tell you that,” I say, “but I think you know it would be a lie, or you wouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“Okay, smart arse. Now tell me why?”
I open my mouth to answer but find I have no excuse—at least not one I’m willing to give. Telling her my history with Bailey would mean dragging my nightmare into the light when all I want is to keep it in the dark.
“Robbie told me that you had a fight in the barn. I laughed at him, Theo, thinking he was joking, but then he said that he had to pull you off Bailey while you were choking him out!” Her voice rises at the end, and she runs her hand through her copper hair, getting visibly more frustrated as the wind whips it back into her face.
“Then, Granda said you were annoyed with the music being too loud, and that you went off in a huff.”
I frown, wondering what that has to do with anything.
“So, please tell me you didn’t thump a poor boy just because you were hungover.”
The truth claws at my throat. I could open my mouth and tell her about him—what he did to me. But I know the first thing she would do is call the police. I can’t talk about that. Not now. Instead, I say, “Things escalated quickly. I didn’t realise what was happening until Robbie pulled me off him.”
When I peek up, her eyes have gone comically wide. She looks over her shoulder towards the barn, then back to me, her blue eyes sharp like daggers. “I suggest you go back up there and apologise to him. I have to now explain to Richard why his friend got fucked up by my cousin.”
Like fuck.
“I’m not apologising, Isla. I’ll stay away from him, but I’m not doing that.”
“I’ve known Bailey for twelve years, Theo.
It’s not like either of you to get into a brawl like that,” she huffs.
“I’m going to go check on him, make sure he doesn’t report you for being a twat.
” She storms away from me, shouting back, “Bloody sort it out. The wedding’s in a month and he’s going to be here the whole time. ”
Reality slams into me. A whole month … I can’t avoid him for a whole fucking month.
He’s going to be here—on my farm, in my house.
I blow out a deep breath and try to think.
If there were the slightest possibility that Bailey was a danger to anyone in my family, I wouldn’t even pause for a breath before calling the police myself.
But what he’d done to me was personal, fueled by emotion and fear that, to this day, I cannot even begin to understand.
He was so desperate to get me out of his life, it wouldn’t make sense for him to have come looking for me.
After somewhat convincing myself that him being here is just a coincidence, and not some grand plan to fuck with me again, I make my way back to the farmhouse. It’s silent as I fill the kettle, maybe I’ll get lucky and make it upstairs before anyone else tries to—
“You going to explain what went on in the barn yet?”
I groan, tipping my head up to the ceiling and slamming the milk down on the counter. No. I’m not going to explain anything. “Can you not just leave it, Rob? It’s over. I won’t go near him again.”
Robbie slides his large frame next to me and grabs a cup from the draining board. “You don’t fight, Theo,” he says simply, holding the cup out to me. I look at it, then up at him.
“Would you like a coffee, Rob?”
“Tea.”
I raise an eyebrow.
He rolls his eyes at me. “Tea, please.”
I take the cup from him. “I just lost my patience; sometimes I can’t control it.”
He hums in agreement. “There’s losing your patience, then there’s punching a stranger and trying to choke him out for playing music too loud. I thought you were getting better with all that?”
I was. When I came back to Skye twelve years ago I was an angry little shit—snapping at anyone who tried to talk to me, hiding away in my room, losing myself in the sea when I went to work.
It took years of patience from Rob and my family until I came out the other side.
The anger never really left me, but I’m sure it’d been getting better.
Now with Bailey here dredging up everything that I’ve worked hard to bury, I feel unmoored.
“I don’t drink much anymore; maybe I had one too many,” I mumble, handing Rob his tea.
Isla blows in through the back door, face like thunder. “He’s fine, by the way. A little shocked, but he won’t be reporting it to the police, so happy days for you.” She pushes Robbie out the way, picks up a cup, and holds it out to me.
“Want to know something interesting?” she asks when I take it from her.
I look to Rob for help, but he shakes his head. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know what she’s on about.”
Isla taps his chest with the back of her hand and shushes him. “Bailey said you used to go to school together in England. That you were best friends.”
Of course he did. My stomach twists, and icy fingers stroke down my spine as I wonder just how much he told her. “Right, we did—”
“And you didn’t think that was an important detail to tell me earlier?”
“Last I checked, I don’t answer to you, Isla,” I snap.
That was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes widen slightly, and I can almost see the flames of hell flare to life within them. “He is my guest here, Theo. Anything you do is a reflection on me. So when you punch my guest in the face, everyone looks at me as if it’s my fault.”
“That’s ridiculous, you weren’t even there.”
She huffs. “I can’t make you apologise to him, and Bailey said there’s no hard feelings—which is more than you deserve, by the way. So let’s just forget it happened and move on.”
“Kind of hard to ignore the giant black eye coming,” Robbie says, poking me in the face.
I flinch and slap his hand away, realising how much my cheek is throbbing now.
My blood boils, but I keep my mouth shut.
I remind myself that I haven’t told Isla about my past with Bailey, so all I can do is glare at her.
I turn to Robbie. “Can I stay with you until the wedding?”
“You don’t need to leave the farm, Theo—” Isla starts, her voice softer than it had been a moment ago.
“It’s fine. I just need some time to cool off.” I raise my brow, waiting for Robbie’s answer.
“Sure, you can stay,” he says.
I make excuses that I need to pack my bags—for the second time in two days—and disappear upstairs.
We get to Robbie’s house a couple of hours later. I kick off my shoes and make a quick escape up the stairs to the spare room, hoping to be left alone. But then, of course, there’s a knock on the door.
“You want to talk about Bailey?” Robbie asks, as he leans against the doorframe.
“No.” I run my hand through my curls, ignoring the slight tremor in my fingers. “It’s just a lot to process.”
“Fair enough. … Fish supper?” I look up, and he’s all smiles.
“Sure,” I say. He nods and jogs back downstairs, the front door banging as he leaves the house. I blow out a breath, grateful that Robbie isn’t half as nosey as Isla.
By the time he’s back, I’m set up on the sofa, leaning against the armrest, legs stretched out, with the football on.
Robbie hands me one of the paper packages before lifting my feet and slipping himself onto the seat beneath them.
As we watch the game, he devours his food while I pick at mine.
Thankfully he doesn’t stop talking, and the deep timbre of his voice is enough to distract me from my thoughts.
The evening slips away too fast, and eventually I make my way upstairs where the darkness calls for my dreams. I picture Bailey’s face as soon as my head hits the pillow.
I see him at sixteen with blood over his nose and tears running down his cheeks.
Then at eighteen, crying, telling me he has no other choice.
And now … older, with a smile that—for a moment—was blinding.
I don’t understand why the hell was he smiling at me. Not after the way things had ended between us. A pounding headache builds as I toss and turn, both wanting to sleep and dreading the moment I do.