Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
JAMIE
I pause at the summit of Ben Garve and, panting lightly, take in the view, Bruce wagging his tail beside me like he’s just conquered Everest. The morning sun filters through patchy clouds, lighting up the endless green below in bursts of gold. In the distance a cluster of Highland cows graze lazily in a field, a scattering of ginger dots against the lush grass.
Okay, the scenery in Highland Legacy looks amazing, but I’ve got to admit, it’s nothing compared to the real deal. There are no dodgy frame rates here, nor wonky textures—just raw beauty. And the air has that perfect, crisp quality that makes you feel like you’re doing something healthy simply by breathing it in. Plus, unlike in the game, there are no goblins lurking behind boulders ready to ambush me. Although, to be fair, that does add a certain thrill.
I take a few moments to catch my breath, then Bruce and I head back down, Bruce occasionally heading off to sniff furiously at some mystery scent that has caught his attention. Rabbit tracks, maybe? On the horizon, a few darker, more ominous clouds gather. With any luck, I’ll be back at the hotel before they crash the party.
Near the bottom, the hill is dotted with free-roaming sheep, so I clip Bruce’s lead on—just in case he fancies himself a sheepdog and decides to do a bit of herding. Barely a minute later, his body goes rigid, like he’s caught wind of something very important. His ears perk up, his nose twitches madly, then his tail kicks into overdrive—wagging so fast it practically blurs.
“What have you seen?” I mutter, following his line of sight.
And that’s when I spot her. A woman cresting one of the dips in the hillside and heading our way—her face familiar, though her hair now a striking shade of navy blue. That’s new.
When we get closer to one another, I groan and say—loudly enough for Maisie to hear—“Typical, you come out here to escape everything, yet you end up bumping into someone you know.”
She rolls her eyes. “I would say it’s nice to see you, Jamie, but, well...” She crouches down and fusses over Bruce. “It is, however, wonderful to see you , you gorgeous boy. Lucky me meeting you two days in a row, eh? What a friendly dog you are—so unlike the man walking you.” She scratches behind his ears, and Bruce melts under her touch, the big traitor that he is. “Have Lewis and Iona palmed you off on this grump today? Och, that’s a shame. Elspeth is a better dog walker, isn’t she? Oh, yes she is.”
“If you’re going to take a dig at me, at least do it to my face rather than through Bruce. What’s the matter, anyway—have you not had a Gaelic Fire today? Oh wait”—I gasp and slap a hand over my mouth—“that’s right, you were too slow to grab one yesterday. You poor thing!”
Straightening, Maisie fixes me with a steely green-eyed glare. “Still can’t believe you snatched it out of my hand. Who does that?”
“A dashing rogue with lightning-fast reflexes and impeccable taste in energy drinks?”
“Hmm, if ‘dashing rogue’ is code for ‘insufferable prat’, that sounds about right.”
I smirk. “Touché! Anyway, there’s something different about you today, but what is it?” Stroking my chin like some cartoon villain plotting world domination, I let my gaze travel up and down Maisie’s figure, taking in her oversized open zippy hoodie with sleeves bunched up to the elbows; her cropped stripy T-shirt, which shifts as she moves, offering fleeting glimpses of pale skin that are rather distracting; her black skinny jeans with a tear across one knee; and her scuffed blue trainers.
A faint—and kind of cute—blush rises to her cheeks, and she crosses her arms defensively, though it just makes me notice how the cuffs of her hoodie are frayed, like she’s spent countless hours absent-mindedly tugging at them. Lowering her eyes, she pushes a strand of navy-blue hair behind her left ear, briefly revealing a small Celtic knot tattoo on her neck that I’ve never noticed before.
“Is that... a new hoodie?” I say eventually.
Her eyes fly back up to meet mine, and she lets out an exasperated huff. “It’s my hair, you muppet. It’s blue now.”
“ Really? ” I tap my chin. “No, I could have sworn it was blue yesterday as well.”
“Do you never get tired of constantly being a pain in the arse?”
“I think we both know I’m delightfully charming.”
“Nope, far from it. Anyway ... I’m a little surprised to see you out in the open air. Word on the street is you spend most of your time in the snug, ignoring the few customers you have and tapping away at a laptop.”
“Aye, well, Lewis gave me two options this morning: either walk Bruce or sort through a bunch of invoices from suppliers. It was a close call but I decided to give the great outdoors a whirl. And I’ve actually really been enjoying the view—so serene, so timeless, so utterly ruined by someone who looks like they lost a fight with a blueberry pie.”
“ You ...” Maisie splutters then shakes her head. “I have no words. I just—no words. Anyway, there’s no point dragging this out longer than necessary so let me cut to it. When you’re on your laptop, you play games, right? Iona mentioned you play Highland Legacy ?”
“Er, aye. Why?”
“Well—”
Suddenly Bruce lunges forwards with a force that nearly yanks the lead out of my hand. “Oi, Bruce!” I yell, stumbling after him. “Heel!”
He’s spotted a rabbit—a small brown blur that’s darted out from the undergrowth—and, apparently, bolting after it is a lot more important than listening to me. The daft dog drags me right into Maisie’s personal space, at which point the rabbit abruptly changes direction, looping back towards the undergrowth.
“Wait! Bruce, no—” My words are useless. Single-minded and oblivious, Bruce follows, his lead wrapping around Maisie and me and then pulling taut, yanking us together so that Maisie’s slender frame presses flush against me, our legs caught in a tangle, her fingers digging into my biceps, gripping them for balance.
I gulp. “Er... well, this is kind of intimate, eh?”
All right, Jamie, definitely don’t think about how her head fits perfectly under your chin like it’s meant to be there. Just focus on untangling the lead. That’s all that matters right now.
But before I can figure out a way out of this mess, Bruce delivers another powerful tug, and with my legs tied together, I don’t stand a chance of remaining upright.
“Shit!” The world tips, then my back slams into the ground, knocking the wind out of me—then she lands on top of me with a startled yelp, her face barely an inch from mine.
Her wide green eyes stare down at me, and it’s like she can’t decide whether to laugh or kill me. Meanwhile, I can’t help but be acutely aware of every point of contact between our bodies, and of her hair brushing my cheek, and of her lips so close I can feel her breath warming my skin.
For the love of God, Jamie, get a grip! Don’t be some weirdo perv.
Okay, but what do I do? Maybe crack a joke?
No! For once in your life, don’t do that. How about apologising? Asking if she’s okay?
I clear my throat. “You know, if you’d wanted to throw yourself at me, you could have just asked.”
“Ugh! You ,” Maisie hisses, “are the absolute worst!” She pushes herself upright—not an easy feat when, thanks to Bruce, it’s like she and I are in some three-legged race that has gone horribly wrong. As she wriggles and squirms to free herself, her knee digs into my stomach, forcing a grunt out of me, but if she notices, she doesn’t care.
“This is just... argh!” Maisie tugs frantically at the lead while very deliberately avoiding eye contact with me and grumbling curses that would make even a sailor blush. And, talking of blushing, I can’t help but notice her face has turned a rather bright shade of pink.
She finally manages to untangle herself then scrambles to her feet. Dusting off her jeans, she glares at me, muttering something I don’t quite catch—which is probably for the best.
As I attempt to wrestle the lead off of me, Bruce pads over with what can only be described as an apologetic grin and proceeds to smother my face with enthusiastic, slobbery licks.
“Oi, Bruce! Stop—” I sputter, trying and failing to push him away.
Eventually I manage to free myself, from both the lead and Bruce, but as soon as I stand up straight, a sharp pain shoots through my left thigh. Aw, shit. The fall must have caused my old injury to flare up. Before I can stop myself, I let out a tortured hiss.
“Are you all right?” Maisie’s lips twitch with amusement. “Did I land on your balls or something? Is that why you’re pulling that face?”
“Nope, my balls are fine, thank you very much.” I keep my tone breezy and plaster on what I hope is a neutral expression. But bloody hell, my thigh feels like someone’s taken a hammer to it. Don’t wince, Jamie!
“Shame. I was hoping for a bit of karmic justice after your blueberry pie comment.”
I manage a half-smile but I’ve lost the mood for banter. Honestly, I’d almost rather she had squished my nuts. Better that than this, I reckon.
It’s an obvious thing to say but real life isn’t like a video game. In Highland Legacy injuries can be healed by downing a potion or asking a friendly mage to cast a spell, but in reality old wounds come back to haunt you, no matter how many years have passed. Isn’t it enough that my injury robbed me of the one thing I actually wanted to do with my life? Does it have to go on claiming even more from me? I hate feeling weak and vulnerable, but that’s exactly how I feel right now.
Despite my best efforts to play things cool, Maisie’s face softens with concern—which is so much worse than her teasing me. I can handle her taking the mick. What I’m not okay with is her feeling sorry for me.
“Are you all right?” she asks. “If you’re actually hurt and I was messing around, I’m so sorry. Do you want to sit down for a bit? Or can I help you back to the hotel, maybe?”
Jesus Christ! I don’t want her pity.
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended. She flinches at my tone. Aw crap, I’m making a mess of this.
I take a deep breath and try to soften my voice. “Look, I’m going to go. Sorry about Bruce and the fall and... you know, the comment about your hair. It was a stupid thing to say. It’s nice—really. But... well...” I’m not sure what else to add so I simply say, “See you later, okay?”
And with that, I turn from her and set off with Bruce.
“Wait!” she calls after me. “There’s something I want to say to you. Why don’t we walk down together and we can chat on the way?”
Shit. No, I need to get away from Maisie right now, not spend more time with her. I just... need to be alone. Ideally at home, where I can pop a few painkillers then lose myself in a virtual world where injuries don’t linger. But since I’m no good at explaining that, I resort to old habits.
“You know,” I say, turning back, “I was only being polite about your hair. It looks like Smurf cosplay gone wrong. Honestly, it’s a bit tragic.”
Maisie blinks in stunned silence, her mouth opening like she’s about to fire something back—but nothing comes out. She just stares at me, her cheeks flaming.
Shit. That was too much.
But instead of apologising, what do I do? I ram one hand into my pocket, tighten my grip on Bruce’s lead with the other, and mutter over my shoulder, “See you around.”
I don’t dare look back.