Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
JAMIE
The rain patters against the snug’s window, a steady drumbeat that matches the throbbing in my head. I’ve spent the last hour pretending to focus on my laptop, but my thoughts keep circling back to Maisie. Always Maisie.
I pour myself another dram of Glen Garve, the whisky sliding down smooth and warming my chest, though it does nothing for the hollow ache inside me. It’s not like Maisie and I were even an item. There was no big dramatic breakup because we were never together in the first place. And yet , those months we spent gaming—laughing at stupid jokes, learning each other’s quirks, saving each other’s arses in boss battles—felt like something. But now...
I tried working it out of my system earlier, hammering through an extra-punishing session at the gym. My muscles are screaming from it, but my head is just as much of a mess as before.
Even last night’s whisky tasting—by all accounts a roaring success—couldn’t distract me. Not really. Kyle’s presentation was spot-on—no surprise there—and we shifted a decent number of bottles. But I couldn’t enjoy it, not knowing Maisie’s pub quiz was quieter than usual because of us. God, I’m pathetic. And today—without an event to pull people in—we’re quiet again. Not that I mind right now. The state I’m in, I probably shouldn’t be talking with customers.
My phone pings with a notification: SassyLassie has posted a new video.
I shouldn’t watch it.
I really shouldn’t.
But I do.
Maisie appears on screen, her flame-coloured hair gleaming under the glow of her ring light. Her warm, easy smile lights up the frame as she speaks with that calm, self-assured charm she has down to an art. “Right, a number of you said you’d like to see me play Highland Legacy , so here it is: my first gameplay video! And to mark the occasion, I thought I’d do something a wee bit special.” She explains she recorded the footage earlier with an American streamer called LevelUpLucas, some big shot with hundreds of thousands of followers. “All right, without any further ado, here we go!”
LevelUpLucas is... a bard (easily the most annoying of Highland Legacy’s classes). Not only that, but his avatar’s ludicrous bright purple hair doesn’t fit the game’s gritty vibe at all . Of course, it perfectly matches the stupid purple hair that LevelUpLucas has in real life. Go figure.
Am I just looking for reasons to dislike this guy because I’m jealous that he got to play with Maisie when that’s exactly what I want to be doing? Of course. Would I have any issues with his hair in literally any other situation? Doubt it. But I never claimed to be above pettiness.
“Hey, levelheads!” His voice is bright and obnoxious. Ugh. “Guess what? Today I’m going to be playing Highland Legacy with an actual Scottish person. Yep! Like, from Scotland—for real. And her accent? Oh man, just wait till you hear it. You’re gonna love it. Some of you might already know her—she went viral last week with her very first video. How crazy is that? She lives near that stone circle from the scene we all freaked out over. Wild, right? Anyway, say hi to my co-op buddy for today... SassyLassie!”
Her avatar appears alongside Lucas’s—the same one I’ve spent countless hours adventuring alongside. Then Maisie appears in a little box in the corner of the screen, adjusting a massive pair of headphones.
“Hi, everyone!”
Of course, just like LevelUpLucas, Maisie’s brightly coloured hair matches her avatar’s. When she does it, though, it’s clever and endearing, and that’s a totally impartial observation. Definitely not driven by feelings or anything.
The video is snappily edited: quick cuts of them bantering as they track down a group of kelpies accused of dragging villagers into their loch lair. The action is perfectly paced, their avatars leaping between moss-covered stones as tendrils of enchanted water whip towards them. Maisie delivers the final blow—a streak of lightning erupting from her staff—and Lucas whoops loudly. “Are you sure you’re not really a mage?”
Wow. That’s his banter? And this guy has how many followers? Maisie and I do so much better when we play together.
“Normally I just set everything on fire,” Maisie admits. “It’s kind of my thing. But I do have a few other tricks up my sleeve, and kelpies call for something with a wee bit more zap.”
“Fire magic, eh?” Lucas’s avatar whips out a lute and strums it like it’s some kind of mating call. Oh God. “That’s not all that can spark things up in this game, right? Have you, uh... ever explored the game’s romance mechanics? Asking for a friend.” He winks at the camera like he thinks he’s hilarious.
“No, not really my thing.” Maisie laughs lightly, but it’s the kind of laugh you give when you’re trying to smooth over an awkward moment. Her smile wavers for just a fraction of a second—not enough for someone like Lucas to notice, but enough for me.
“Oh, come on!” Lucas presses. “Maybe you and I should give them a shot! Give the people what they want, right?” His avatar sidles up close to hers on screen, an exaggerated pantomime of intimacy. “We all know why the TV show is so popular—and why your stone circle video went viral.”
Maisie lets out a chirpy laugh then redirects their conversation back to their quest objectives. But her expression flickers—just for a beat—and there’s something behind her eyes, something shuttered and uneasy that anyone less attuned to Maisie’s every microexpression would miss altogether.
She doesn’t like this. Not at all.
It twists something sharp and hot inside me—the idea of her playing with this guy for views or clicks or whatever else, and having to put up with his nonsense. Before I know what I’m doing, I slam my phone facedown on the bar, hard enough to rattle a few glasses. Then I pour myself another dram and down it in one.
The burn hits harder this time—sharp and unapologetic—and golden streaks crawl around my vision like fireflies trapped in my skull. Of course, this is when Lewis shows up and ruins my pity party entirely by crossing his arms and glaring at me
“Jesus Christ, Jamie. How much have you had?”
“Not enough,” I mumble, but even I can hear how pathetic I sound. The words come out of my mouth half-slurred and barely human. Still, I try adding, “I’m fine.”
Naturally, Lewis doesn’t buy it for a second. “Go to your room!” he snaps, like I’m a misbehaving teenager and he’s my father—even though he’s only actually three years older than me. “Lie down before you keel over or start ranting about feelings where customers might hear you. I swear, Jamie...” He exhales sharply through his nose and drags a hand down his face like I’m the bane of his existence. Then he steps closer, still looking at me like I’m a particularly stubborn stain on his favourite jumper, and clamps a hand on my shoulder. His grip is firm.
But when he speaks again, his voice is gentler—just a notch at first. “Look, I spent years pining after Iona. Years. So trust me, I know what it’s like. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen, okay? But right now, you need to sleep this off.”
I want to tell him he’s wrong—that sometimes things don’t work out, no matter how much you want them to. But the words get stuck in my throat, and maybe that’s for the best.
I stumble upstairs to my room, fumbling with the key until it finally slots home. But, once inside, my chest of drawers beckons like an old conspirator, and I pull out the bottle I keep hidden there. A quick twist of the cap, then the burn of the first sip lights up my throat—hot and unforgiving. By the third swig, those golden streaks from earlier have scattered into shapeless smears, blurring everything into one hazy mess. Like my head has been dunked underwater.
And yet the video keeps playing over and over in my mind: Maisie’s laugh, that tosser with the ridiculous purple hair hitting on her, her smile wobbling for just half a second. Before I know what I’m doing, my phone is in my hand and I’m watching it again, torturing myself with every moment. My jaw clenches tight enough to give me a headache.
Fuck this.
My legs move before my brain catches up with them. Downstairs again—staggering slightly, walls tilting and swaying as if they’re alive—and then out into the drizzle. The cool air hits my face, but it doesn’t clear my head like I’d hoped. Instead my feet carry me down the street towards the warm glow of the Pheasant’s windows.
And there she is.
Maisie is behind the bar, her flame-bright hair catching the light as she laughs at something a customer has said. She’s so at ease, so bloody perfect, and for a second or two, I just stand outside like an idiot watching her through glass panes streaked with rain.
She looks happy. Properly happy. Like she hasn’t once thought about me all day—or maybe even longer than that. Like all those hours we spent gaming together meant nothing to her. Like those times we got tangled up in each other’s arms were just... meaningless.
I want to go in, to march right up to the bar and... and what? Lay myself bare in front of everyone in the pub? Tell her how much this hurts?
No. She already knows.
And she doesn’t care—not really. Not enough.
My feet move again, slow and aimless, carrying me along Bannock’s rain-slicked Main Street. The world around me blurs—buildings fading into shadows, streetlamps smearing gold across the wet pavement. The old stone bridge looms ahead through the gloom, and I find myself drawn to it, to the rushing water below.
The rain is heavier now, pouring in relentless sheets that drum against the stones. My clothes cling to me, water running down my neck, but I barely feel it. All I can hear is the roar of the river, and just like that, I’m eighteen again. The rain pounding on the car roof as tyres screech, the world spinning sideways—the crunch of metal and glass?—
The roar of a motorcycle engine cuts through the memory. Tyres hiss as they glide to a stop, pulling me back into the present. Footsteps splash closer behind me.
“Oi, mate, are you all right?” A pause, then sharper: “Christ, Jamie—is that you? What the hell are you playing at? You’re soaking wet.”
I turn my head sluggishly towards the voice. Robbie MacDonald stands a few feet away, rain dripping off his battered leather jacket and pooling around his riding boots. His motorcycle helmet is tucked under one arm; his other hand rakes back damp black hair from piercing blue eyes that seem to cut through the rainy haze.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, though the words slur together, barely audible even to me. My legs wobble beneath me, and I teeter closer to the low stone wall separating me from the river’s rushing waters below.
Robbie grabs a hold of my arm with startling speed and strength. “Like hell you are.” His voice is low but firm, punching through the hammering rain with startling clarity. “Come on, out of this bloody rain before you end up hurting yourself.”
I try shaking him off, but his grip is steady as stone. He’s not letting go.
“Why d’you care?” The words spill out of me like whisky from an upturned bottle—messy and bitter.
For a split second, something flickers across Robbie’s face—something raw and unguarded. Pain? Regret? Whatever it is, it doesn’t belong on the face of Bannock’s resident “bad boy”, yet there it is. But then it’s gone as fast as it appeared, replaced by a furrowed brow and a flicker of frustration.
“Look,” he says after a beat, his voice quieter now but no less resolute, “that night... when I came across the crash... ” He trails off as if waiting to see if I’ll interrupt him. I don’t.
He exhales sharply and shakes his head, droplets scattering from his hair. “You were bleeding badly—barely conscious—and your parents...” He pauses again. “Well, they were already gone. When I called for the ambulance, I didn’t know if you’d make it.”
My chest tightens until breathing feels impossible. This isn’t something we talk about. Ever. Don’t get me wrong: that night changed everything between Robbie and me. Before then, he was my brother Ally’s mortal enemy—they could barely be in the same room without trying to start a fight. Naturally, loyalty meant I sided with Ally growing up, but after someone saves your life? Old grudges disappear.
Still, we’ve never spoken about that night—not properly—and suddenly he’s tossing it into the open like it’s no big deal?
Robbie releases a slow breath before continuing. “Your life is precious, mate.” A faint shrug accompanies the statement like even he knows how uncharacteristic the words sound coming out of his mouth. His grip on my arm tightens—not harsh or forceful, just enough to anchor me in place against the pull of whisky-drunk thoughts. “So, like I said, let’s get you out of this rain, eh?”
He steers me towards the nearest bus shelter, and I let him. The rain patters against the arched wooden roof, but at least we’re out of the downpour—though I’m already drenched to my bones.
Robbie leans casually against the shelter’s wall, arms crossed and scrutinising me with eyes that feel like they can peel back layers I’d rather keep hidden. “Right,” he says, his voice low and even. “What’s going on?”
I slump onto the weathered bench, head in my hands. “Everything’s a bloody mess. Maisie... the beer garden... everything.”
“Maisie Kerr? What’s going on there?”
I huff out something between a laugh and a breath—not quite sharp enough to sound bitter, but nowhere near strong enough to sound okay either. “We’ve been gaming together for months. For a lot of that time, as crazy as it sounds, we didn’t realise we knew each other in real life. Then Maisie figured it out, but she didn’t tell me who she was—not until everything blew up because of the new beer garden.” I shake my head as if that’ll help untangle the knot in my chest. “Then today she posted a video with this guy—some American streamer—and I know I shouldn’t care about that stuff, but... God, it stings.”
Looking up, I catch Robbie’s lips twitching like he’s fighting off either sympathy or amusement. Quite possibly both.
“Sounds like you’ve got it bad for her.”
“Maybe. Actually . . . okay, aye, I do.”
“And she doesn’t feel the same?”
“She says we can’t be together because of the beer garden.” The words taste sour in my mouth. “She says it’s hurting her and her da’s pub too much. Even though, on days like today, there’s not a bloody person in the garden.”
Robbie nods slowly, his expression unreadable except for a faint crease forming between his brows. He pushes off from the wall and scrubs a hand through his hair, scattering droplets like tiny pinpricks of rain. “Look, mate,” he says carefully, his blue eyes sharp but honest, “I’m not exactly your go-to guy for relationship advice. I don’t get attached—I’ve no interest in messy feelings tangling me up or business rivalries screwing everything sideways. But your brothers have found love, right? Maybe you should try talking to them. When you’re sober, I mean.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” My stomach churns traitorously, a sharp lurch reminding me just how much whisky is sloshing around inside me.
Robbie clocks it immediately. “Right, let’s get you home before you puke all over your shoes—or worse, mine. Besides, Ally would murder me if I left you out here soaking wet and dripping everywhere.”
I agree, but when I push up from the bench, my legs buckle. Robbie catches me with ease, his arm sliding around my back to steady me. “I’ve got you. C’mon, let’s go.”
Together, we make our way back along Main Street towards the hotel. The rain has eased into a steady drizzle now, soft but relentless. Robbie steers us towards the main entrance, but I say, “No, guests can see me in this state. We need to go around the back.”
He doesn’t argue, just adjusts his hold on me and leads me around the back instead, past the garage in which I kissed Maisie (the memory of it scraping at my ribs like broken glass), then through the gate and into the beer garden. Tonight the sight of it doesn’t exactly fill me with pride. Rain pools on empty tables while fairy lights sway beneath dark skies overhead. It’s a far cry from how it was on opening day.
“I can take it from here,” I say.
“You sure?” Robbie doesn’t loosen his grip just yet, one eyebrow raised in doubt.
“I’m fine,” I insist, wriggling out of his hold and tottering a few unsteady steps to prove my point.
Robbie watches me take a few more steps before relenting. “All right. Go inside and change into something dry before you catch a cold.”
I smirk despite myself. “Didn’t realise you cared so much.”
“Aye, well, I’ve already saved your life once. Try keeping yourself alive from now on, all right?” With a nod, he turns on his heel and strides off into the night.
I make my way towards the rear entrance but falter when my eyes snag on Maw and Da’s bench. The brass plaque catches what little light spills from the hotel windows, its inscription gleaming faintly through streaks of rain: in memory of angus and mairi mcintyre, sorely missed but fondly remembered . Before I know it, I’ve sunk down onto the wet wood.
It’s funny, really. All those days spent setting up this place—hauling furniture around, stringing up lights—and not once did I ever take a break on this particular bench. Ally installed it a couple of years back, and I know he, Lewis, and Cat all use it now and again to have a quiet moment with our parents. Me? I usually steer clear.
But tonight? Tonight it feels like exactly where I need to be.
Rain drips from my hair and trickles down my face—not that it matters much when I’m already drenched. Somehow, though, sitting here feels steadier than wading through the mess in my head. I tilt my head back and close my eyes.
“I’d like to believe you can hear me,” I say, “but... I’m not sure you can.” My throat tightens. “Either way, there are some things I want to get off my chest.”
I draw in a shaky breath that feels like it’s scraping through my lungs. “I... don’t think I’ve really been living my life since I lost you. Not properly. If anything, I’ve been hiding from it—dragging myself from one day to the next but never really moving forwards. What happened—losing you—hasn’t been easy for any of us. Ally, though, is doing all right for himself these days. You’d be pleased, Da—he finally went and set up his outdoor-activities business with Aidan. Needed Emily to give him a good shove in the right direction, but he got there.
“And Lewis... well, he’s with Iona now. Took them long enough, didn’t it? He’s doing a good job of keeping your legacy alive—the hotel looks better than ever. If you could see it, you’d both be so proud of him.
“Cat’s also doing well. She’s an English teacher—in Wick, if you can believe it. Aye, we never thought she’d last a day somewhere quieter than Bannock, but she’s up there holding her own with a classroom full of teenagers. She’s talking about moving back here soon, though. It’d be good if she did—all four of us together again.”
I pause for a moment and shift on the bench. Water squelches beneath me and seeps into my jeans until they cling uncomfortably tight against my thighs. The chill sends goosebumps racing up my arms, but I don’t move just yet.
“As for me?” My laugh is low and humourless. “Well... where do I even start? For years after losing you both, it was like... like I just froze everything inside me so nothing could hurt as bad as that again. Gave up rugby—it wasn’t really an option after the crash—but instead of finding something else worth doing with my life? Nah, couldn’t be bothered.” My voice falters a little. “Ally started his business; Lewis worked on the hotel; Cat found her path teaching kids—and what did I do? Sat in the snug and, as often as I could get away with it, played games on my laptop and ignored the world outside.”
My hands clench into fists against my legs as guilt trickles through me like icy rainwater. “That’s not what you’d have wanted for me, I know that. But lately... things have shifted. Putting together this beer garden gave me a purpose I hadn’t felt in years. And seeing folk enjoy themselves here? Families laughing together over pints and burgers? You’d have loved it, I’m sure of it. And, aye, I know it’s not much to look at right now, but seriously, you should have seen it on opening day.” A small smile tugs at my mouth.
“I’ve even started going to the gym again. It’s weird—it feels good. For so long after I had to give up rugby...” The smile falters and a lump rises in my throat, making the words harder to push out. “God, Da, I know how much you wanted me to play for Scotland someday. And I wanted it too. But after the accident, it was like... I don’t know, like everything inside me just ground to a halt.”
I rub my hands together, warming them against the bite of the night air. “Instead of focusing on myself—on what was real—I threw myself into gaming. It was easier, I suppose. Fun too. Levelling up a character? Completing quests? That felt manageable in a way real life didn’t. And gaming isn’t bad— don’t get me wrong—it’s brilliant, actually. And it’s because of Highland Legacy that I got to know Maisie well, even though she and I have lived just a few minutes away from each other our whole lives. But that’s... that’s a story for another day.
“Anyway, I’ve been mulling over the idea of doing something more hands-on—something that takes me back to the rush of you cheering me on from the sidelines, back when rugby was my whole world.” I can still picture Maw jumping up and down whenever I scored a try, and Da bellowing encouragement even when we were losing by a mile.
“Don’t worry, I’m not daft enough to try diving back into contact sports—not with this pin in my leg—but there must be something else out there for me.”
The faint buzz of my phone cuts through my thoughts. Reluctantly I dig it out from my pocket and squint at the screen.
Kyle
About the Highland Games—just wanted to say I’m happy to help run the tent. We can take shifts so we both get some time to enjoy the day.
A wry chuckle escapes me, and I slip my phone back into my pocket. I’ll reply later when I’m out of this rain.
“Well, I’m not normally one for superstition, and—sure—that was probably just a coincidence. And yet ... I’m going to interpret it as a wee nudge from you two. If you were here, I can imagine you encouraging me to sign up for one or two events at the Games and seeing how I get on. So that’s what I’m going to do.”
I push myself up from the bench and onto unsteady legs. “Anyway, time to go in, I think. I better get out of these wet things. This was nice, though—I can see why the others do it. I think I’ll try it again sometime, maybe even when I’m sober. Anyway... night, Maw. Night, Da.”