Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
MAISIE
I push open my bedroom door, the familiar creak a welcome sound after the long day. With a groan, I flop onto my bed, the springs protesting as I sink into the mattress. It’s not time for sleep yet—I’m still dressed and haven’t brushed my teeth—but... I just need a moment.
What an absolutely shite day.
It had been busy in the pub, and at one point Da had gone missing for a suspiciously long time. I found him struggling with a keg in the cellar, his face red with exertion, his breathing laboured. “I’ve got it,” he insisted, even as his arms trembled under the weight.
“Da, let me?—”
“I said I’ve got it!” he snapped, then immediately looked contrite. “Sorry, Maisie. I just... I can manage.”
But he couldn’t, not really, and we both knew it. When I offered to take over, he bit my head off. I know it’s not me he’s angry with—it’s his own body betraying him. Doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, though.
At least there’s a silver lining. Da’s finally made a doctor’s appointment. Not because of my constant pestering, mind you. Oh no. Apparently, all it took was a wee word from Elspeth. I’m grateful, of course, but is it bad that I feel a bit put out? I’ve been on at him for ages and he’s ignored me. Then Elspeth makes a suggestion, and suddenly he’s all ears.
Anyway, throw in the whole Jamie-is-LochNLoad debacle and you’ve got yourself a recipe for utter exhaustion. Physical and emotional.
As if on cue, my phone pings.
LochNLoad
Gaelic Fire: consumed. Giants: quaking in their oversized boots. The only thing missing is my favourite mage. You ready to cause some mayhem, Sass?
I groan. Any other night, I’d be logging in to Highland Legacy faster than you can shout “loot drop!” After a day like today, there’s nothing I’d love more than to lose myself in a virtual world where my biggest worry is whether I’ve packed enough health potions.
But I can’t play tonight. Not now I know the brawny warrior I’ve been battling alongside for months is Jamie sodding McIntyre. I’ll need to come clean and tell him who I am, of course, but I don’t have the energy at the moment for that particular revelation. And I can hardly keep playing with him without telling him the truth, can I? That’d be... weird. Really weird.
With a sigh, I type out a reply.
SassyLassie
Sorry, not feeling great tonight. Think I’m gonna have to bail.
I brace myself for some quip from Lochie about how he’d been looking forward to whipping out his massive sword and having a bit of fun with it. Why? Because that’s exactly the kind of thing Jamie would say.
LochNLoad
Oh shit, you okay?
I blink at the screen. That’s... unexpectedly sweet.
Although... is it? Because it’s what I’d have expected LochNLoad to say—he knows when to joke about and when to be serious. It’s Jamie McIntyre who hasn’t figured that one out yet.
Except... LochNLoad is Jamie McIntyre. Ugh, this is doing my head in.
LochNLoad
Anything I can do? Want to talk about it?
SassyLassie
I’m all right, just tired. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.
LochNLoad
Fair enough. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be here if you need anything. Even if it’s just to listen.
Bloody hell. Where’s this version of Jamie whenever he and I are face to face? How can the same person who snatched that Gaelic Fire right out of my hand be so... nice?
SassyLassie
Thanks. Night, Lochie.
LochNLoad
Night, Sass. Hope you feel better soon.
I turn off my phone, cutting off any chance of another message from Lochie—or anyone else, for that matter. But even as I set the device aside, I can’t stop thinking about the enigma that is Jamie McIntyre.
How is it possible that the same guy who’s nothing but a pain in the arse in person can be so supportive online? I mean, look at what happened today. We’d barely locked eyes in the shop before we were at each other’s throats. Although... okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely his fault. Maybe I’d been quick to snap too.
But there’s history between us. Okay, “history” might be a bit of an exaggeration. We’re not talking about stolen kisses in darkened corners or breathless encounters against a wall. No heated whispers; no hands slipping under clothing; no tangled sheets; no wild, desperate moments that leave you wondering how you’ll ever look someone in the eye again. Not even close. No, my big drama with Jamie McIntyre? I asked him to dance with me at a ceilidh, and he said no.
I know how it sounds. Maisie, you daftie, it was just a dance. Get over it already!
But here’s the thing. I’m good at chatting with folk—it goes hand in hand with my job in the pub, after all. But when it comes to relationships? Let’s just say I’m not exactly fighting off suitors with a stick. Maybe it’s because I still live with my da, which isn’t really a selling point. Or maybe it’s because while I can banter with the best of them, actual flirting? That’s a whole other kettle of fish.
So, asking Jamie for a dance at a ceilidh—specifically, the engagement ceilidh of his eldest brother, Ally? That was me putting myself out there. And he said no.
Which is... fine. That’s his right. But then he came back later and asked me for a pity dance because Emily, Ally’s then fiancée and now wife, guilt-tripped him into it. Talk about adding insult to injury.
Still, I could’ve got over that if it weren’t for the fact that Jamie is just so... Jamie. Always joking, always teasing, never knowing when to quit. It’s not just me: everyone in his family—no, everyone in the town —moans about him. He lives to wind people up, to make them squirm.
So now, whenever I interact with him, it feels like he’s laughing at me. Like he’s thinking, Remember when you asked me to dance and I said no? Wasn’t that hilarious?
Anyway, how hard would it have been for him to have just said yes? One dance—I mean, we’re talking about a few minutes of his time, not some lifelong vow.
But do you know what the worst part is? Two years later, and I still find him attractive. It’s maddening. You’d think by now I’d have developed an aversion to his stupid handsome face. And maybe if I lived somewhere with more than three eligible bachelors, I would have. But no, I’m stuck in Bannock, where the dating pool is about as deep as a puddle. And for some inexplicable reason, my traitorous eyes keep drifting back to Jamie McIntyre.
So there you have it. I’m attracted to a relentless tease who winds me up something chronic, and I can’t seem to get over it.
God, I could really do with killing some monsters right now.
Seeing as logging in to Highland Legacy is off the table, I decide to resort to my other tried-and-true coping mechanism—dyeing my hair. For me, nothing screams “I’m in charge of my life” like a dramatic change in hair colour. It’s previously been purple, teal, cherry red. I’ve even gone green before—although that one didn’t work out quite so well. Most recently I went fuchsia, but it’s now a rather faded pink.
Usually, I change my hair to mark some kind of big moment. Well, finding out that the charming, witty LochNLoad is actually the most annoying person in Bannock? That qualifies as a big moment in my book. What I’m feeling now? It’s grief, pure and simple. LochNLoad was my friend—until I found out who he really is.
I’ve had my heart set on navy blue for ages and even bought the kit a while ago. I was just waiting for the right time, and this is it. Let’s do this.
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, tilting my head left, then right. My hair is now a deep inky shade of blue that seems to shimmer under the light like magpie feathers.
Bold. Dramatic. Perfect for a woman having a bit of a crisis in the wee hours of a Wednesday morning.
The crime scene around me tells its own story: navy splatters across the sink, streaks on the floor tiles, and... oh no. My poor, poor white towel. R.I.P., little guy. You were too pure for this world (and for navy dye).
I’ll have to clean this all up before bed, but still, it was worth it. This change isn’t just cosmetic—it’s symbolic. Like shedding an old skin.
Tomorrow I’ll deal with Jamie McIntyre. I’ll seek him out and tell him what’s what, face to face. It’s going to be shit but it has to be done.
At least I’ll get to wind him up about his power play kink, though. In this life you have to look out for the silver linings. Sometimes they’re the only things that get you through.