Chapter 76 Alec
SEVENTY-SIX
ALEC
The flight back to Inverness only takes ninety minutes. I spend the entire time wishing it were longer.
We sit in the front row of the plane—Fraser and I on one side of the aisle, and Summer and Cameron on the other.
Summer’s next to the window, and I watch the slanting dawn rays light her hair in gold as the plane tilts through the clouds.
She spends most of the flight working on her laptop, cooking up her social media plan to save Lochview.
Although part of me thinks she’s working so hard so she doesn’t have to talk to us.
She clearly doesn’t know how to interact with us anymore. When we were waiting at the airport, a woman with a buggy almost ran into us, and Fraser automatically pulled Summer aside so she could pass. Summer went bright pink and ducked out from under his arm. Fraser looked like he’d been slapped.
We’ve lost the right to touch her. And it’s all my fault. If Summer does forgive us, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to her. But how do you make up for hurting someone so badly?
Eventually, Summer is asked to put her laptop away because of turbulence. The tiredness catches up with her, and she falls asleep on Cameron’s shoulder.
Fraser is furious. He leans across the aisle, stage-whispering threats to Cameron so he doesn’t wake her up.
You lucky bastard.
You don’t deserve this.
I’m the one who should be sitting next to her.
Cameron completely ignores him, just settles Summer more comfortably on his shoulder and brushes some hair out of her face. When she cuddles closer to him in her sleep, he very lightly lays his cheek on her hair.
I grip my armrests tighter and listen to Fraser fume.
I don’t blame him. I’m so jealous I could die.
When we land, we pick up the truck and drive back to Lochview in near silence. Summer is sitting primly in the back seat next to Fraser, watching the green hills roll past with a wistful expression. I tighten my grip on the wheel. I don’t have the right to talk to her, but I can’t help myself.
“How have you been this past week?” I ask.
Summer glances at me in the rearview. For a second, I think she won’t answer. Eventually, she gives a little shrug. “Really unhappy, to be honest.”
It feels like my ribs are cracking. “Because of me.”
“I’m a bit heartbroken,” she admits. “But it’s not just that. I’m not really sure what to do now. Influencing doesn’t feel good anymore. Yeah, people like me again…but it all feels very fake.”
Stay here, I want to tell her. Be with us. “Whatever you decide to do will be right,” I force out.
She looks out of the window.
It’s past noon when we finally pull up at Lochview. As I put the truck in park, I wonder if I’m hallucinating.
The farm is bustling with people. Before we left, I called Isla and asked her to call a couple of friends to keep an eye on the animals, but it looks like she did more than that.
I watch, stunned, as a group of teenagers from the village stack replacement planks by the side of the ruined lambing barn.
Two local kids run past the car, throwing a ball for Scout.
A group of elderly women are watering the flowers in front of the house and eating my biscuits.
There have to be fifty people milling about.
“Oh, you finally got help,” Summer says, clicking off her seat belt and opening her door.
“Wait,” Cameron commands, crossing to her side of the truck. He wraps an arm around her waist, lifts her over a muddy patch, and settles her gently down on the grass. “There’s mud,” he mutters. “Watch your shoes.”
Summer smiles at him and slips right out of her pumps, wriggling her toes in the grass. The wave of possessiveness that hits me is so strong it knocks the air out of me.
Yes. This is how I want her. Happy, standing on my land, her bare feet in my grass.
“I’m away to check on the mamas,” Fraser mutters, heaving a case out of the boot. He was quieter than usual on the car ride. I think he’s upset.
“Alec!” I turn to see Isla jogging up to us. Her hair is scraped up in a ponytail strung through with straw. “You’re back. And you brought city girl with you.”
“Isla, hi!” Summer pulls Isla into a hug.
“Hi, honey. It’s good to see you again. Thanks for the makeup you sent, you really didn’t have to.”
Summer waves her off, looking around. “I can’t believe how many people are here.”
Me neither. “What’s happening?” I ask Isla hoarsely.
She shrugs. “Posted in the village WhatsApp group that you needed a hand at the farm, and half the town showed up,” she says.
She starts ticking off her fingers. “Dr Kenzie’s been keeping an eye on the sheep.
The allotment club has been doing your vegetables.
Lewis brought his sons over. They already cleared out that elm, and now they’re prepping to fix the barn.
And of course, everyone brought their kids, who are just being nuisances, to be honest.” She pulls a face.
“A lot of them just learned about Dolly the sheep in science class. Unfortunate timing. Don’t freak if you find some weird test-tube shit in your fridge.
” She keeps going, telling me who’s been milking the cow and feeding the chickens and checking on the orchard.
I interrupt her. “And they all just…came to help?”
She gives me a pitying look. “Aye, Alec. They all came. Like everyone has been offering to do for years. Because that’s what people do up here, you sad, lonely man.
” She pats my shoulder and then smiles when a pink-haired girl approaches us.
“Oh, Emmy, over here. Summer, this is my fiancée. Em, this is the English girl I told you about. The one who attacked me with something called a kabuki brush.”
“Guilty,” Summer says, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you. You two look so good together!”
Emmy accepts Summer’s hug. “I have to thank you for whatever you did to Isla. She’s been so confident recently. I’ve been trying to convince her to do a boudoir photoshoot for months, and she always said no.” She gives Isla a sly look. “This past week, I couldn’t get her away from the camera.”
Isla goes bright red. “Em! She doesn’t want to know about that.”
“Oh,” Summer says wickedly, “but I think I do—”
Suddenly, a streak of white barrels out of the open farmhouse door and flies at Summer, knocking her over.
Summer lands on her behind with an oof as Crumpet jumps into her lap, bleating ecstatically.
“Crumpet!” Summer gathers her up, letting Crumpet nuzzle her cheeks and tangle her hooves in her hair.
“I missed you so much. I did, I missed you!”
“Seriously? Crumpet?” Isla asks me incredulously. I don’t respond, watching Summer play with the lamb. My throat feels thick.
“It’s good to have you back,” Isla tells Summer. “These men have been pure useless since you left. Hey, when are you gonna tell the rest of the village you’re dating them? Please do it at the pub. The oldies are going to lose their minds. It’ll be the highlight of my year.”
Summer’s smile dims a few degrees. “Oh, actually, I’m not staying,” she says. “I’m just here to spread awareness of the survey online.”
Isla pauses. “Oh, I see.” I avoid her narrow gaze.
Summer stands, holding Crumpet to her chest. “We should actually get started. We need to get photos taken and posted ASAP. What have you done so far?”
I open my mouth, but Isla cuts me off. “Terrible, terrible clipart posters,” she says. “Looks like something a kid would do in Microsoft. But worse, ’cause he didn’t even do the wiggly rainbow WordArt.”
I sigh, pulling out my phone to show Summer. “I set up a Picturegram account. We weren’t able to get any real traction.”
She looks politely at the few bland landscape shots on my feed. “It is so good you tried,” she says encouragingly. “Hey, do you mind if I, like, wipe it completely and start you a totally new account? The algorithm will have decided that you’re really boring.”
“Go ahead,” I say roughly. She sets Crumpet down, takes my phone, and starts tapping at it. The lamb immediately plops down on Summer’s shoe, like she’s claiming her.
“Hey!” Isla calls to someone behind me. “Elliot, put the flask away. This isn’t happy hour.” She jogs off.
I stand still as people move and talk and laugh around me. For once, I have no idea what to do. Emotion is rising up in my chest. “I, ah…I’ll take the bags inside,” I mutter. I need to get away from all of these people.
When I get inside the farmhouse, I see that someone has tidied up.
The fliers have been neatly piled on the kitchen table.
The dishes in the sink have been washed.
The floor’s been hoovered, and there’s a vase of bluebells on the coffee table.
I stumble to the guest room, feeling like I’m in a dream, and sit down heavily on the bed.
I close my eyes and listen to the sound of half of Dalbrae outside the window.
I don’t know how to process this.
I thought I knew how the world worked. My whole life, my father expected me to handle everything, no matter how much I struggled under the pressure.
You don’t get to ask for help when you’re the owner, son.
You can’t rely on anyone but yourself.
Everything that happens on this farm is your responsibility.
I never questioned it. I genuinely believed he was right. But now there are fifty-odd people outside, helping to hammer together everything I’ve broken.
I can’t help but wonder what else I’ve been wrong about.
When I go back into the kitchen, I find Cameron slapping together a sandwich. He glances at me over his shoulder.
“She needs to eat. She had nothing on the plane.” I nod and make to head outside. “Thank you,” he says to my back.
I wheel around, unable to believe my ears. “Thank you?” I repeat. “You’re thanking me?”
“Aye.”
“I screwed everything up.”
His eyes are steady. “Aye. But you finally listened to me. And I know it went against everything you’ve known your whole life, so…” He shrugs. “Thanks.” He turns back to his sandwich.
I watch as he leans against the counter, taking the weight off his leg. It usually hurts him after plane rides. I cross over to the medicine cabinet without thinking. “Do you want—” I catch myself. “Do…you mind if I offer you some painkillers?”
I honestly don’t know. Fraser is always offering Cameron painkillers or ice packs or a hand up when Cameron is in pain, and Cameron doesn’t seem to mind. But he clearly does with me.
Cameron rolls his eyes. “Christ. Aye, you can offer me paracetamol, if you can manage to do it without looking at me like I’m Tiny Tim.” I toss him the packet, and he swallows a couple of pills dry. “Thanks.” He puts the sandwich on a plate. “Come on.”
We find Summer in the grass outside, pointing across the landscape as she explains something to Isla and Fraser.
“Here.” Cameron gives her the plate. “Eat your piece.”
“Thank you!” She takes a bite and chews. “Okay, here’s the plan. Social media success is really all about selling a story. Your story is easy—three hot, hardworking farmers struggling to save their business from greedy property developers.”
Isla snorts. “Hot?”
“Yes,” Summer says, “and their hotness will come in very handy. You three are going to be the face of the farm.” She glances up at Cameron. “Or…maybe not you? Fraser said you quit.”
“You don’t have to do it,” I tell Cameron quickly. “This is my responsibility.”
Cameron rolls his eyes. “’Course I’ll take the pictures,” he mutters. Fraser whoops.
“Perfect,” Summer says, all business. “No more photos of buildings or hills. We need action shots. I want to see you nursing baby lambs. Chopping logs. Cuddling sheep.” She takes another bite, her face thoughtful.
“Now, this isn’t a requirement, but if any of you are willing to take your shirts off, I can guarantee that we will get double the engagement. ”
Somehow, Fraser is already half naked before she’s finished the sentence. “Like this?” He drops to the floor and starts doing press-ups.
She nods and points at him. “Yes. Exactly. This will work. And…” She looks up at me. A light breeze strokes her hair in front of her face, and my fingers ache with the urge to push it back. “Fraser said you guys have kilts?”
I’m not sure where this is going. “Aye.”
She takes another bite of her sandwich, eyes twinkling. “I think now’s the time, boys.”