Chapter 17
Struan had been staring at his phone for several hours. Usually, he’d be out in the hills at all hours, permanently on call at this time of year, but it seemed that mountain bikers and hikers were being more cautious than usual.
That left him bored in the stuffy dimness of his not-really-house.
He’d tried to reset with a cold shower, which had turned into something slightly less innocent as memories of Rae plagued him, just as they had every day and night since last weekend.
Worse now he’d seen her again, which shouldn’t have been the case.
They’d acted like normal, civilised humans.
Hadn’t tried to kiss each other. Fine, there had been a few lingering looks between them, and that playful banter hadn’t been lost, but there was no reason why Struan should still be obsessing over trivial things, like how her fingers moved when she scribbled in that notepad, and the pretty summer skirt hugging her hips.
He’d have to chalk it up to his otherwise uneventful sex life. It had been almost a year since he’d last been inside anyone, and he missed that feeling of connection, even if it had only ever been physical.
He huffed. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to ask her whether she was still stuck on it, too, or whether she was already over their brief fling – even if she had already made the answer clear.
He opened Instagram to take his mind off it, app loading slowly thanks to the poor Wi-Fi signal up here.
Martha had posted a new photograph of her and Vik on the dunes of West Sands Beach.
One of his volunteer mates was bragging about his motorbike again.
Harper had announced her pregnancy with an image of her and Fraser dangling a tiny onesie that said, Our Next Chapter, which he left a celebratory emoji on.
Everybody had something to show for themselves. Everybody but him. Yes, he loved his job, but there was nowhere left to go from here. He’d live and die in these mountains, which would be lovely if not for the fact that he’d do it all alone.
His attention caught on the sight of Rae’s profile picture, a headshot of her in her chef’s uniform.
She’d posted a new story. He clicked it embarrassingly quickly, grinning at the video of her and Cam, of all people, wailing ‘Mr. Brightside’ into a wine bottle.
She was an adorable drunk, confidently singing the wrong words about opening up ‘your evil mice’ while Cam draped an arm around her shoulder.
One of her dress straps had fallen off in the process, displaying sunburnt shoulders and tan lines.
You made up then? he typed, hesitating before he clicked send.
Then, he absolutely did not wait for several minutes, glued to their previous conversation as he wedged his arm between his pillow and head.
And he absolutely did not let out a sharp breath when he saw that she was typing.
She gave him a thumbs up and an Allllllll gpppppddddd.
Uh oh. Are you okay? he asked.
In not snot ok.
Anxiety rolled like a stone in his stomach, and it took everything in him not to hit the call button. She wouldn’t want that. She could take care of herself, and she was probably having fun. He wouldn’t ruin it.
Still with Cam?
Nop I’m gggg for walk.
He sat up, thumb hovering. Who with?
My shelfffffff
The video call button was pressed before he had time to think about it, needing to see her, make sure she was okay. When her face popped up a moment later, he knew she wasn’t, mascara smeared down her cheeks and nothing but darkness around her.
Still, she tried to hide it, a lazy smile cracking her face open. ‘Well, hello there. What can I do you for?’
‘Where are you?’ He was already getting up to search for his boots.
‘Where are you? And more importantly, where is your shirt?’
Right. He needed that, too. Found a crumpled one on the floor by his dresser. ‘Why are you out on your own? Where’s Cam?’
He could see the phone wavering with her unsteady steps, microphone rustling as she brought it to her ear to hear him better. ‘That’s too many questions, Nevis.’
‘It’s two questions, Little Rae. Stop moving and tell me where you are.’
She at least obeyed, giving him a wonderful view of her nostrils as she scanned the area around her. ‘I’m near the loch. Why?’
‘I’m going to pick you up.’ He balanced his phone on the couch to slip on his shirt, unable to keep from grinning when he saw her watching through glassy eyes.
‘Hmmmmmmmm.’
He raised a brow. ‘Eyes up here, love.’
‘Why are you loving me now?’
Struan was too busy stubbing his toe on the coffee table to offer a reply – not that he had one. ‘Ow!’ When he saw her moving again, he said, ‘Oi! No moving. I won’t be long.’
‘I’m fine, love,’ she slurred.
Except she wasn’t. She was a woman on her own on a poorly lit road, clearly upset about something. He’d seen sober people get lost on the trail surrounding the loch, and knew how easy it was to get injured by the uneven path or, worse, come across the wrong type of person.
He left his boots untied, rushing so frantically to his car that he forgot his keys. He cursed, running back in.
‘Uh oh,’ Rae sing-songed. ‘My battery is—’
The call cut off. Struan clenched his jaw, calling back, even if he already knew what she’d been about to say.
Alone, in the dark, upset, and now without any way of calling for help.
Struan was officially worried.
‘For fuck’s sake, Rae,’ he muttered, peering out into the dark.
Even with his headlights casting twin silver glows ahead, it was difficult to make out tree from fence from stone.
His knuckles were white over the steering wheel, palms so clammy they kept slipping against the leather.
If she’d wandered off or something had happened, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive in this all-consuming panic.
It was different when he was called out to help strangers; in those instances he could separate himself from what happened to his dad, convince himself that they would be fine because he was trained to make sure of it.
With people he cared about, with her, he could already feel the ghost of that old loss fraying all his edges, chasing away his usual composure. ‘Where are you?’
Loch Teárlag came into view between the trees, moonlight reflected in the still, black surface. He slowed, scanning the road. He might have driven right past her if he hadn’t been trained to pay attention to detail.
She was nothing more than a huddled silhouette perched on the curb.
When his headlights washed over her, she squinted and covered her eyes.
It was the first time he’d seen her with her hair down, brown waves pouring over her shoulders and sticking to her neck.
He wondered why she kept them tucked away when they were so beautiful, so unruly – but then, he was beginning to understand that she enjoyed order.
Struan let out a long breath of relief as he pulled over on the opposite side of the road, keeping the engine running and the headlights on so that he could still see as he stepped out.
She looked at him sheepishly, a slight sway to her torso. ‘’Ello.’
‘Your phone died,’ he pointed out tersely as he approached.
‘A little bit.’
‘I’m going to shout at you about it when you’re sober tomorrow.’
‘No, you won’t. You don’t shout.’ She held out her hands, and he helped her up. ‘You’re a big friendly giant.’
It was difficult to stay annoyed at those words, uttered so matter-of-factly. She stumbled against his chest, and he steadied her, cupping her jaw to examine the tear tracks on her face. ‘What happened, sweetheart?’
‘Nothing, really.’ She tried to nudge him away, but he refused to let her. Not this time.
‘Was it Cam? Did you argue again?’
‘No. We had fun.’ A frown. ‘Too much fun, probably. I already have a headache.’
‘I brought water. Come on. Let’s get you home.’ He tried to usher her towards the car, but she finally prised herself away.
‘I don’t want to go back to the farm tonight.’
‘Why?’
Her eyes glistened, mouth forming around a confession that never came.
Her dad? Things had been tense between them over dinner that first evening, and Doug had been colder than usual when he’d talked about Rae the day after.
He was afraid that asking would only add another chink to her brittle armour, so he tugged her close again. ‘Okay. I won’t take you home.’
Finally, she surrendered, letting him guide her to the passenger seat.
He leaned over her to fasten her seatbelt, the sour wine on her breath mingling with the syrupy potency of her perfume.
That hooded gaze watched his every movement, and he felt it like needles in his skin.
What did she think when she looked at him like that?
What did she see? A mistake, like she’d all but said, or something else?
With her, he’d settle for any option, as long as he had her attention at all.
Her intensity made him burn; she had the power to turn his defences to ash, strip him bare.
He’d felt it even back then, the night she’d sat with him in his grief.
She saw him, knew him, without words needing to be exchanged.
‘Sorry for making you come out here,’ she said quietly after the seatbelt had clicked into place.
‘You can always call me if you need me. You don’t need to apologise. Except for wandering in the dark without a charged phone, maybe.’
A light smile feathered across her lips, and without warning, her fingers twirled in the hair at the nape of his neck. It was a tender display of care he’d never been shown before, making his chest tighten with a wish for more.
Carefully, he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to her forehead, then reached across to grab the bottle from the cup holder between the seats. ‘Drink this. Is it okay if I take you to my house?’
‘We’re breaking the rules,’ she pointed out through her slurs.
‘Good. I never liked having them in the first place.’ He flashed her a final, wolfish grin, then closed the door on her tuts. As he settled into the driver’s seat, he asked, ‘Am I going to be your second spew victim?’
‘No. The spewing happened already,’ she admitted ‘There is a very well-fertilised butterfly bush at the back of the tavern.’
He chuckled, turning the car around. It was an inconvenience, looking at the road when he wanted to look at her, but he tried to concentrate as best he could, tapping the steering wheel with his thumb.
‘Shame. I was looking forward to trauma bonding with Colin.’
‘You could always try to kiss me, see if it triggers the old gag reflex.’
‘For the sake of my own self-esteem, I’d rather not know.’ He offered her an amused sidelong glance, finding she was smiling around the lip of the water bottle. He didn’t understand how, half-cut and covered in melted make-up, she could still be the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.
He would keep breaking the rules for her, tomorrow and the next day and the next, even if only as her friend.
Anything to be around her. Anything to be the person she called when she needed help.