Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
JAMIE
I’ve finally figured out how to pack the snug wall-to-wall. It’s simple, really. All I have to do is strip off and win a race with my bollocks bouncing around for all to see. Crowd-pleaser, that one. Now every guy in Bannock seems to think it’s his personal duty to pop in, order a pint, and crack the best joke he can muster.
Some recent attempts at humour include:
“Next year you should take part in the 100-metre flash. Oh! I mean dash!”
“Did someone tell you to give it your all? Because, mate, that wasn’t what they meant.”
“Well done! You didn’t just come first in the race—you also came first in giving zero fucks.”
“I was like, Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s... oh God! ”
Three different men have congratulated me on going “balls out” in the race, and each of them was so proud of themselves for coming up with that pun. Don’t get me wrong, if folk want to take the piss about what happened, fair enough—I’d absolutely do the same thing in their shoes. But at least put in the effort and come up with something original, eh? I mean, try a bit harder!
Oh, and another thing that keeps happening? The mock toast. I hand them their freshly poured pint, then they raise it with a smirk and say something like, “To the fastest arse in the Highlands!”
Aye, it was funny the first time I heard it, mate.
But you know what? Beneath all the ribbing and piss-taking lies something real. These guys have known me since before the crash. They know what I’ve been through. And a Scottish man doesn’t say he’s proud of you—he shows it by ripping into you while raising a pint in your honour. The sentiment is there, even if it’s unspoken, and I appreciate it. That being said, if one more guy claps me on the back and says I really went “balls out”, I might just lose my patience.
For now, though, I’m all chuckles and grins, even though my leg aches like hell. I wasn’t prepared for a race today, and the fall didn’t help either. But you know what? I won, so I’m not about to let a bit of pain get to me.
What is getting to me is the knowledge that I’ve royally cocked things up with Maisie. God, I’m such a bloody idiot. What the hell was I thinking? Charging ahead like that, as if crossing the finish line first was more important than using my brain for half a second.
I’ve just poured Roddy and Hugh their usual order. I thought these two liked it when the snug was dead, but even they have come along to say their piece, which is...
“To winning gold and mooning the competition in style!” Roddy announces, raising his pint high.
“I’ll drink to that!” Hugh lifts his too.
“To be fair, a better toast than some I’ve heard tonight,” I admit. “You two old buggers enjoy your drinks now, you hear me?”
“Ach, you may have won the race, Jamie, but you’re still a cheeky sod,” Roddy observes.
“Whatever happened to respecting your elders, eh?” Hugh adds.
I wink at them then notice my phone lighting up with a notification. Just as I go to reach for it, David and Johnny make an appearance. Before David even opens his mouth, I just know he’s going to be the first person this evening to make me blush. And I’m not wrong.
“And that , Jamie, is why I moved to the Highlands. Thank you!” He throws his arms around me and pulls me into the tightest hug.
“Er... didn’t you move to the Highlands for me ?” Johnny asks.
David releases me and pats Johnny’s chest affectionately. “Oh, right, of course. But, c’mon, you’ve got to admit. That finish?” David fans himself. “It wasn’t just the sun that got me hot and bothered today!”
Johnny rolls his eyes in that way people do when they pretend they’re irritated but they really think the world of you. Honestly, I’m not sure what’s more nauseating—the lovesick puppy eyes that Lewis still gives Iona (even though they’re together now) or the way Johnny gazes at David like he’s just hung the moon.
“Anything you want to get out of your system?” I ask Johnny. “Because every other guy here has made a joke at my expense. You may as well go ahead too.”
Johnny taps his chin. “Well, unlike everyone else, I’m not really in the habit of commenting on another man’s... performance . But... congratulations, I suppose.”
David laughs uproariously. “Trust me, Jamie—Johnny and I have already dissected your performance in great detail, and he was very impressed with all aspects of it. He’s just too embarrassed to say so to your face.”
And now it’s not just me who’s blushing but Johnny too.
“All right, now that you two have had your fun, what can I get you?” I say, trying to get things back on track. “Oh, and be warned: you get one attempt at embarrassing me per drink. So if you want to have another go, you’ll have to wait till your second round. House rules, I’m afraid.”
Once I’ve served them, I get a chance to check my phone. The notification says: SassyLassie has gone live .
I don’t even hesitate. I tap to join the stream, and there she is, looking as stunning as ever, raindrops dotting her face.
The landscape behind her is familiar, not least because I was there myself earlier today. I’d like to know what she’s up to on Ben Garve, but unfortunately it’s too bloody loud in the snug to hear a thing. That’s the downside of the place being so damn busy for once.
I make my escape, squeezing past folk and enduring a few more hearty slaps on the back. I check the office: empty. All right, I’ll have a very quick breather. If anyone needs another drink, they can wait a minute or two.
Dumping myself in a chair, I prop my elbows on the desk and hold my phone in front of me. Maisie’s voice fills the room, clear now that I’m away from the chaos.
“There’s something else I want to say... something important.” Damn, I must’ve missed whatever her first point was. That worry takes a back seat when she add, “And, believe it or not, it involves the man you all saw today... saw rather a lot of, in fact.”
Wait, she’s talking about me ? Ah, I get it. She’ll want to apologise to her followers for what I did earlier. That makes sense. Well, I hope they forgive her.
Comments flash up at the bottom, like:
It’s raining, but SassyLassie still brings the sunshine
That’s nice. These people really do love her.
Also:
Saw rather a lot? More like saw EVERYTHING!
I blink at this comment then a surprised laugh escapes me. It’s one thing being roasted by the local lads, but having some random on the internet casually announce they’ve seen everything ? That hits differently.
Well, at least I made an impression, right?
“Jesus!” Maisie yelps, snapping my attention back to her. The rain has turned torrential, plastering her hair to her face and moulding her hoodie to her like a second skin. “Is this nature’s way of telling me this is a bad idea?” she wonders. “Because, if so, tough luck—I’m not listening! There’s something I need to say and I can’t hold it in anymore!”
Wait, what might be a bad idea? Have I missed something?
More comments come in:
Came for comedy, staying for drama!
Does Maisie secretly fancy him? Place yer bets!
Hold up! What’s this about Maisie secretly fancying me?
Maisie is walking now. “That man you all saw today—the winner of the hill race—is someone I know very well.” She tells her viewers about my beer garden—the bane of her existence, apparently—then adds, “There’s been plenty of rivalry between us these past few months, but also something else.”
I lean closer to my phone, my pulse quickening. Why exactly is she telling all this to her followers? And, more to the point, where is she going with this? My knee bounces beneath the desk.
Next up, Maisie addresses me directly and... she apologises to me. For losing her temper with me after the race.
Er, why is she apologising? I’m the one who messed up! She doesn’t have to say sorry for anything.
But apparently she’s not done because next she says, “Jamie, I also want—no, need —to say something else to you. Something... bigger.”
Jesus Christ. Is she about to say what I think she’s about to say? No. There’s no way. And yet the comments are going wild, heart and flame emojis lighting up my screen. Clearly, I’m not the only one thinking—or maybe just hoping—that this could be heading in a... romantic direction.
The way she’s looking at me through my screen, it’s like there’s no camera, no distance—just her eyes locked on mine, as if I’m the only one who matters.
It’s an intense moment—so intense I barely register Maisie slipping at first. She stumbles, arms windmilling, but mercifully she catches herself. “Holy shit,” she mutters. Then, with a grin that doesn’t quite mask the shake in her hands, she jokes, “Right, quick tip for all you lovely viewers out there: when livestreaming your romantic confessions from an extremely wet hillside, please do watch where you’re going.”
Damn right you should watch where you’re going! You’re precious, Maisie. Don’t you?—
Hang on. Did she just say romantic confessions? Did I hear that right?
“Don’t do what I just did and?—”
One second she’s there, vivid against the rain-soaked green of the hillside, and the next she’s gone. The feed spins wildly—a sickening blur of grey sky and tumbling motion—and all I hear is her startled cry before there’s a hard thud . The livestream continues, the camera now capturing nothing but clouds and rain. Maisie is nowhere to be seen.
My stomach drops clean out of me. Scarcely breathing, I stare at the screen like if I will it hard enough, she’ll pop into view. Any second now she’ll swoop in to grab her phone, laugh, and say, “What am I like?”
Won’t she?
The rain keeps falling from an empty sky.
Comments flash across the bottom of the screen:
OMG! Is she okay?
Did she fall?!
SOMEONE HELP HER!!
Panic streaks through me like lightning, jagged and unrelenting. My body moves before my brain has even caught up—I shove my phone into my pocket, shoot out of the chair, and stride straight for the door.
As I step out into reception, Aidan saunters in through the main entrance, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. He’s clearly gearing up to deliver some punchline or other, but I don’t have time for that.
“She’s on Ben Garve!” I bark, already heading for the back exit.
“What?”
“Maisie! She’s hurt, I think. Get help! I’ll be ahead of you”
I don’t wait for a response. I head out into a storm so fierce it feels like a living thing. The rain lashes down in heavy sheets, soaking me within seconds as I race through the beer garden, out the back gate, and to my car.
Key in ignition. Engine roaring to life.
Rain thundering on the bonnet.
The deafening roar drags up memories I don’t need right now. Twisted metal. Shattered glass.
Maw. Da.
My chest tightens so suddenly, so viciously, it’s like a fist clamping around my lungs. I can’t get air in properly, just shallow gasps that don’t seem to go anywhere.
No, no, not now. Not fucking now. Maisie could be hurt—badly. She needs me.
“Come on,” I mutter, gripping the wheel tight, like it’s the only thing anchoring me to reality.
Deep breaths. Focus. In for two . . . out for two . . .
The pressure eases enough that I can push past it. Not by much, but enough that my trembling hand finds the gear stick and shifts it into place.
I pull out of the driveway and make my way down Main Street, the wipers whipping frantically across the windscreen. Before long Bannock is behind me and the narrow country road twists and turns ahead, treacherous in this relentless deluge. But adrenaline propels me forward with single-minded determination. Just get to her.
“That’s it,” I say, my voice tight. “Almost there...”
Ben Garve looms through the haze of grey like an ominous shadow shrouded in rain and cloud.
A fresh spike of dread drives through me. What if she’s lying there alone? Hurt and scared? Or worse?
No. Don’t think like that.
I tug the handbrake into place and fling the door open. Before I’ve even registered the cold bite of the rain, I’m tearing up the hill, legs pumping harder than they ever did in the race—harder than I thought possible.
My leg screams in protest with every step—pain shooting from knee to hip—but nothing can stop me now, not when Maisie could be hurt.
I can barely see a thing, the rain blurring everything, the ground soggy and uneven underfoot, but I have to keep going. I have to find her.
“MAISIE!” I yell. “Maisie, where are you?”
Nothing.
“MAISIE?”
Still nothing but rain hammering down and wind whipping against me.
And then: “Jamie?”
Her voice is faint but unmistakable. Relief crashes over me like a wave, but I don’t stop—I can’t stop—not yet.
“Maisie!”
I run on until, through the haze of rain, I finally spot her—a small figure moving towards me down the hillside, her tentative steps turning into something quicker when she spots me too.
I don’t stop until she’s in my arms, soaked to the bone but alive, miraculously alive. I hold her tight, like I’ll never let her go again.
When I finally pull back just enough to look at her properly, my words tumble out: “Did you fall? Where are you hurt? Should you even be standing? Christ, let me carry you.” My arms move instinctively around her again, already preparing to lift her off her feet.
“Jamie!” She slaps my hands away gently but firmly, laughing—a real laugh full of warmth and life. It washes over me like balm to raw nerves. “I’m fine!”
I’m happy but also confused. I don’t understand. The livestream?—
“I was so bloody lucky! See that cliff?” She points up to a crag that must be twenty-five, maybe thirty feet high. “I wobbled right on the edge of it. I won’t lie, it scared me shitless, but I managed to keep my footing.”
I pull her into another hug because... well, I can’t help it. “You have to be more careful!”
“Aye, don’t worry, I’ve learnt my lesson. Well aware I could’ve gone the way of my phone. It went tumbling right down. I’ve been trying to look for it—safely, obviously. It must be around here somewhere. It’s probably smashed to bits anyway.”
“I’ll help. In fact, let’s get you somewhere dry first then I’ll look for it.”
“Hold your horses! Before anything else, there’s something I need to say and it can’t wait.”
I glance up at the sky, at the endless rain still pouring down. “Can’t it? I don’t want you catching a cold out here—or worse, slipping again.”
“No, it can’t wait.” A gust of wind catches her hair, plastering it across her face in dark, damp strands. She swipes at them absently then tilts her head. “Actually, first, a question. How did you get here so fast? I swear it’s only been a few minutes since I narrowly averted disaster.”
I shrug, water dripping from the tip of my nose. “I drove. Then ran.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I take issue with both parts of that. First, you drove? In this? This rain is wild! I thought with weather like this you?—”
“Aye, well,” I interrupt. “I needed to get here, didn’t I?”
Maisie studies me intently. She reaches up and brushes my wet hair from my face with gentle fingers, her touch soft and lingering.
“And the run? You’ve already gone up and down this hill today—more than that leg of yours has done in a long while. You shouldn’t be pushing it any more than that.”
“Same answer as before,” I say simply. “I needed to get here. For you.”
Her hand falls from my face to rest against my chest. “And I came here because there’s something I need to say to you. I wanted to lay out my feelings on that livestream—for everyone to hear—because I’ve been a fool for far too long. I don’t care if you run a rival business. Hell, I don’t care about anything else. The only thing that matters is you.” She swallows hard. “And I want you, Jamie McIntyre.”
“Aye? Well...” My voice deepens into something rougher now as the weight of everything boils over inside me. “I want you too.” My hands find their way to her waist without thought or hesitation, and I pull her closer. “Because you, Maisie Kerr, are fucking perfect.”
As if on cue, the rain begins to ease—not stopping entirely but softening to a gentle drizzle—and a single ray of light breaks through the thick clouds above us.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask softly.
Her lips curl into a slow, certain smile. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”
Without waiting another second, I angle my head and press my rain-soaked lips to hers. Despite the damp chill clinging to us both, Maisie’s mouth is soft and deliciously warm. My hand cups her cheek as we lose ourselves in each other beneath the Highland sky. Slow at first, searching, savouring every movement until hunger takes over and we kiss deeper, bolder. Her hand clutches my drenched shirt, and the subtle scent of rain and heather wraps around us.
When we finally pull back—reluctantly—I grin at her and can’t resist a cheeky wink through our shared breathlessness. “Well,” I say with a laugh that feels lighter than it has in years, “that was officially the best kiss of my life—and that’s saying something considering how bloody drenched we both are.”
I want to take Maisie to my car, to crank up the heat and get her warm, but she wants to hunt for her phone for just a little bit longer. So we both look and I find it before long. It actually wasn’t far from where we were both standing. What’s more, by some miracle it seems intact when I pick it up from the patch of thick grass it landed in.
Even more unbelievably: the livestream is still running, and people are still watching it. The moment my face comes into view on the screen, a deluge of comments floods in.
It IS him! The voice we heard is #TheHighlandFlash guy!
OMG, SassyLassie’s livestreams are THE BEST!
First he wins the race, and now he wins her heart? Someone stop this man!
SassyLassie + #TheHighlandFlash = couple goals
“Er... did you guys hear what we were just saying?” I ask the viewers.
YES! WE HEARD EVERYTHING!
I grin at the camera, rubbing the back of my neck like a proper daftie. “Wow. So now I’ve laid myself bare to you all literally and figuratively, huh?”
More comments fly in, too fast to read, though I catch plenty of laughing emojis, hearts, flames... and a fair few eggplants too.
“Wow. It’s really still working?” Maisie appears beside me on the screen—and in real life too, of course.
“Aye,” I confirm with a nod before turning my attention back to her followers. “Now, if you guys will excuse us, I really want to kiss this woman again. And since I’m sure you’ll agree we’ve both shared more than enough of ourselves today, I think it’s time to end this livestream so we can do that in private.” I wave at the camera.
Maisie waves too. “Bye, everyone!”
I tsk lightly. “Maisie, even I know you’re supposed to say, Don’t forget to like and subscribe! ” And with that, I tap to end the stream.