24. Chapter 24
Beau
No For Turnin
Translation: Refusing to change course; determined
Usage: To describe someone who has their mind made up about something
Party-goers rush to the dance floor as Torin begins to play, the high decibel of the pipes grabbing their attention.
I watch as they bounce to the rhythm of upbeat songs, skirts and kilts swinging, then drift into pairs during slower numbers.
The floor becomes a swirl of color and movement beneath the glow of the twinkle lights.
But my eyes keep returning to Torin, standing confidently on stage, bag tucked beneath his arm, legs shifting as he plays.
His fingers move effortlessly across the chanter while the drone hums behind him.
He looks completely in his element. And completely irresistible.
I’d been worried about how things might be between us after Inverness, whether the shift in whatever this is between us could make things awkward, but tonight has been incredible.
I’ve been to many charity events like this, but I’ve never had a proper date for one—my granny has served in the role since I broke up with Lauren—so I wasn’t sure how people would react to me accompanying Torin.
Because of my parents’ reaction to my coming out, I would be nervous about bringing a guy to one of their many fundraisers.
But it hasn’t been a problem here. Everyone’s been lovely.
I can see in their faces the assumptions they make about the two of us, that we might be a couple.
And they’ve all been welcoming. I hope my parents and their friends will be as happy to see me with someone as everyone has been to see Torin with me.
Despite my concern about how things might be handled back home, I’ve leaned in to whatever might be happening with Torin, being attentive to his needs, light touches making it clear to those around us that we’re here together, but never taking it too far.
Not until I know more about how Torin feels about us.
And I really hope there’s an us.
Margaret appears beside me, wrapping her hand around my elbow as the revelers sing a jolly tune about Loch Lomond. Amid all the ruckus, she leans closer and asks, “Not going to dance?”
“I will if you’re offering,” I say with a smile, offering my arm before guiding her to the dance floor just as the band starts a new, raucous melody.
Margaret sticks with me as I attempt to learn the dance that everyone seems to know but me, something akin to line dancing mixed with swinging around our partners, our elbows linked.
I miss a step almost immediately. Margaret laughs and steers me back into place, calling the next move over the music.
“Left! Now turn!” I follow her lead, spinning and stomping and trying not to trip over my own feet or bump into another dancer. I do both.
By the time the tune ends, both of us are breathless. I offer her my handkerchief as the band switches to a ballad.
“Thank you, love,” she says, dabbing her forehead, then handing it back.
The dancers reorganize themselves as the rhythm softens. Margaret slips her hand into mine and we ease into a waltz, gliding slowly around the room. She moves with the confidence of someone who has done this all their life.
After a couple of laps, I give her a playful spin and pull her back to me, enjoying the smile spreading across her face.
I’ve grown fond of Margaret in a surprisingly short time. I’d been eager to gain her approval in case something happened between me and her son, but we’ve bonded without pretense.
We’ve spent afternoons in the kitchen, talking about cooking and our shared love of the holidays, singing off-key together to every song on the radio while chopping vegetables. We’ve compared our upbringings in different times and places, showing curiosity and respect for one another throughout.
And every time she talks about Torin, something in her voice softens. He deserves that kind of unconditional love and support, and I hope, someday, I can give him mine.
My eyes flick to him each time we pass the stage, which Margaret must notice because her expression has changed when my eyes settle back on her.
“It’s nice having you here, Beau,” she says, the intensity of her gaze telling me she has more to say.
“It’s nice to be here, Margaret,” I say, keeping my voice light.
She’s quiet for a moment, watching me before tipping her head up to speak in my ear. “Torin doesn’t trust many people, you know,” she says, and I nod. “But he trusts you. I can tell.”
Warmth surges through me at her words, goosebumps erupting across my skin. Trust is a strong foundation for any relationship and something that’s been tough to build with Torin. I can see the hesitation in him sometimes, the way he pulls back just when things start to feel too close.
He hasn’t said much about his past relationships, but I can tell he’s struggling to put his faith in someone new. Torin’s been burned before, and now he shies away from the flames. But if Margaret says he trusts me, then I hope I can help him find his way to the fire again.
“And I can tell how much you mean to him,” she says, pulling me from my thoughts.
She looks up at me, her face hopeful, eyes shining, the protective instinct in her expression unmistakable. She’s not just talking, she’s asking.
Our steps slow to a halt, the other dancers continuing to swirl around us.
I haven’t even told Torin how I feel—with words, anyway—and telling his mother feels dangerously close to stepping over a line.
But I can’t leave her standing here with that question in her eyes. She needs to know her son will be okay.
I take both of her hands in mine and look her in the eyes, my voice deep, quavering, and earnest. “He means a lot to me, too.”
She holds my gaze for another moment, and I see the smallest tremble of her jaw before she exhales and relaxes, a tentative smile coming to her lips.
“Good,” she says as the song comes to an end.
I’m about to say more when Callum walks up and asks Margaret for a dance. I pass her hand to his with a bow of my head and make my way to a quiet corner to think.
I’ve been dying to talk to Torin properly since the night of our kiss, but we’ve circled each other for days, and he’s given me zero signals.
Or maybe I just don’t know how to read them.
Maybe I should’ve kissed him again when we crunched across the snow to see that old stone circle.
Or grabbed his hand again while driving in the car. Anything.
I’d hoped he would initiate something this time, but he hasn’t, and I’m lost. Lost without him in my arms, his lips pressed to mine.
I need it.
I need him.
All of him.
Friendship is no longer enough for me. It hasn’t been for a while now. The hunger he showed when we kissed… I can’t be the only one who wants to push this further.
Mind made up, I set my trepidations aside, grabbing a glass of whisky as I rejoin the crowd.
I’m going to enjoy the rest of the night, take in all this experience has to offer, and when the time is right, I will make it more clear than ever exactly how I feel about Torin.
And I don’t care who sees.