Chapter 22
MARY
The Veterinary Emergency
(Or How a Stubborn Sheep Reveals Everything Before Ruining It All)
The Glenfield veterinary clinic isn’t exactly impressive.
It’s a small gray stone building wedged between Mrs. MacTavish’s grocery store and Old Angus’s blacksmith shop at the end of Main Street.
Jamie MacNeil took it over five years ago, then abandoned it overnight for reasons nobody really understands.
When I arrived, I found a place that was functional but sad: two examination rooms with faded beige walls, a surgery corner equipped with the bare minimum, and a tiny waiting room with four mismatched chairs.
Everything smells like disinfectant and damp wood.
The windows overlook the hills stretching behind the village, and on clear days, you can even see McGregor Castle perched in the distance.
I tried brightening the place up with a few green plants and colorful animal health posters, but it’s still exactly what it is: a functional rural clinic in a tiny village buried deep in the Highlands.
Ragnar is lying curled up in the corner of the exam room.
He’s trembling slightly.
His eyes—usually sharp, suspicious, and severe—look dull with pain. When I arrived this morning, I found him waiting outside the door, completely still, waiting for me to open up.
That’s not like him.
Ragnar waits for no one.
He takes what he wants. Charges people he dislikes. Dominates every room with the authority of a battle-hardened general.
But not this morning.
This morning, Ragnar is hurting.
At first, I thought poisoning.
But now that we’re here together, now that I’m really observing him, I realize something doesn’t fit.
He isn’t vomiting. He isn’t drooling. His pupils are normal.
He just looks… miserable.
“You sure it’s poisoning?” Finn asks as he closes the door behind us.
“That’s what I thought.”
“But?”
I bite my lip.
“But the symptoms don’t really match.”
Our eyes meet.
One second.
Two.
Every memory from last night’s kiss slams back into me all at once.
The terrace. His lips against mine. His rough voice whispering, I can’t keep pretending anymore.
I look away first.
Focus, Mary. You have a sick sheep to treat. You do not have time to think about Finn and his life-ruining kisses.
Finn immediately walks over to Ragnar.
The sheep lifts his head, and I swear his expression changes.
“Hey, buddy,” Finn murmurs as he kneels beside him. “What’s going on with you?”
He places a hand against Ragnar’s side.
The sheep doesn’t growl.
He just stays there, trembling slightly but calm.
I remain frozen near the door, watching the scene with equal parts fascination and professional jealousy.
This sheep hates me.
Barely tolerates me.
But with Finn?
He practically melts.
“You can come closer now,” Finn says without looking at me.
“You sure?”
“He’s calm. Take advantage before he changes his mind.”
I move carefully and kneel on Ragnar’s other side.
The sheep gives me a suspicious look, but when Finn presses a steady hand against his flank, he stays still.
“Good boy,” Finn murmurs in a soothing voice I didn’t know he possessed.
I begin my examination.
Normal temperature. Slightly elevated heart rate, but that could be stress. Pink mucous membranes. No abdominal pain during palpation.
“So?” Finn asks.
“No signs of poisoning. His temperature’s normal, no abdominal tenderness, mucous membranes are—”
Ragnar suddenly jerks when my hand brushes his left hind leg.
I freeze.
“What is it?” Finn asks.
“His leg. He reacted when I touched it.”
I examine it more closely.
The left hind leg is slightly swollen. Ragnar is holding it at an odd angle.
“This isn’t poisoning,” I say slowly. “It’s his leg.”
“How can you tell? He’s barely moving.”
“Look at the way he’s positioning it.”
I carefully take hold of the leg.
Ragnar growls.
“It’s okay,” Finn murmurs, keeping him steady. “Let her help.”
I examine the hoof carefully.
And the second I tilt it slightly, I see the problem.
“Shit.”
“What?”
“There’s a rock embedded deep in his hoof. And it’s starting to get infected.”
Finn leans closer to look.
“He’s been walking on that for days. How the hell was he even standing?”
“I have no idea. But apparently he had something important to do.”
I look at Ragnar.
The sheep stares back at me with unsettling intensity.
Like he’s begging me to understand something.
Like there’s some enormous secret hidden behind those stubborn, grumpy sheep eyes.
What exactly are you up to, mysterious sheep?
“I’m going to have to remove the stone,” I explain. “It’s going to hurt. Normally I’d restrain him in a trimming stand, but we don’t have time to move him somewhere else, and I seriously doubt he’d let himself get strapped onto the exam table. I need you to hold him firmly.”
Finn nods and adjusts his grip on Ragnar.
“I’m ready.”
I grab my finest forceps and get to work.
The stone is lodged deep. Blood seeps around the hoof.
Ragnar flinches.
Tries to yank his leg away.
“I know it hurts,” Finn murmurs softly. “Just a little longer. You’re being brave. Good job.”
I keep working, focused.
But despite myself, my mind drifts.
The way Finn bends his head toward the sheep. The endless patience in his hands. The gentleness in his voice.
He’s like this with everyone.
Not just me.
The realization hits me like a physical blow.
This tenderness, this attentiveness… this is who he really is.
Underneath the grumpy armor, beneath the silence, he’s just someone who takes care of people.
Someone who whispers encouragement to a suffering sheep with the same softness he’d use to comfort a frightened child.
Someone who deserves to be taken care of too.
“There,” I announce finally, pulling the stone free.
It’s large.
Sharp.
Covered in blood and dirt.
“No wonder he was hurting.”
I immediately disinfect the wound.
Ragnar growls but no longer struggles.
Exhausted.
Relieved.
“He’ll need antibiotics,” I say while applying antiseptic ointment. “And he needs to stay quiet for a few days. No long walks. No… whatever he did to injure himself like this.”
“What do you think he was doing?”
I look up at Finn.
“I don’t know. But it mattered to him. You don’t walk around for days with a rock in your hoof unless you have a very good reason.”
“Or unless you’re incredibly stubborn.”
Despite myself, I smile.
“It is Ragnar, after all.”
Finn gently strokes the sheep’s head.
“You’re staying here, buddy. Mary’s going to take care of you.”
The sheep looks at him.
Then at me.
Then sighs and closes his eyes like he’s finally accepted his fate.
Am I hallucinating?
I carefully bandage the hoof.
Finn remains kneeling beside Ragnar, one hand resting against his side.
We work in silence.
A strangely comfortable silence despite the tension hanging between us since last night.
“That was impressive,” Finn murmurs.
“What was?”
“You. With him.”
I glance up at him.
His gray eyes are fixed on me.
Intense.
Vulnerable.
Exactly like they were on the terrace last night right before he kissed me.
“He doesn’t hate me anymore,” I say quietly. “He tolerates me.”
A smile brushes his lips.
“That’s huge coming from him.”
Silence settles again.
But it’s no longer comfortable.
It’s charged.
Electric.
Dangerous.
“You are too, you know.”
He frowns slightly.
“What?”
“You’re impressive. With patients. With… everything.”
The words slip out before I can stop them.
I didn’t calculate them. Didn’t measure them.
They’re just there now, suspended between us like a confession I never intended to make.
Finn says nothing.
He just watches me with that unbearable intensity that steals the air from my lungs.
Ragnar is asleep now, his breathing slow and steady.
The clinic is silent.
The world seems to narrow down to the space between Finn and me.
Finn shifts closer almost imperceptibly.
So do I.
I can see the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes. The nearly invisible scar near his temple. The different shades hidden in his gray irises.
His gaze drops to my mouth.
Mine does the same.
The air turns thick.
Hot.
Hard to breathe.
He leans toward me.
I lean toward him.
Our lips are seconds from touching when—
Ragnar suddenly jumps to his feet.
The sheep charges directly between us, head lowered, physically separating us.
I stumble backward into the exam table while Finn grabs Ragnar, who immediately tries to limp toward the door despite the bandage.
“Ragnar, no!”
The sheep bleats indignantly.
Finn wrestles him back toward the blanket, but the moment is gone.
Destroyed.
Obliterated by a stubborn sheep who apparently has very strong opinions about our love lives.
“You can’t walk on it!” I exclaim, scrambling upright. “You’re going to reopen the wound!”
Ragnar stares at me with what looks suspiciously like disapproval before collapsing dramatically onto his blanket with a dissatisfied bleat.
Finn slowly stands.
Runs a hand through his hair.
Avoids my gaze.
And I watch him shut down.
Like a book snapping closed.
Like a door locking.
The armor slides back into place piece by piece until the vulnerable Finn from thirty seconds ago disappears completely.
“I… I should go,” he says, his tone neutral again. “I’ve got patients this afternoon.”
“Finn…”
“I’ll stop by tonight to check on him.”
He leaves before I can say anything else.
The door shuts behind him with a final click.
I stay there alone in the clinic while Ragnar lies on his blanket.
The sheep stares at me.
I stare back.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
Ragnar bleats once.
Then closes his eyes, looking deeply satisfied with himself.
Fantastic.
Even the sheep thinks getting close to Finn is a terrible idea.
Finn left.
Again.
And I no longer know whether it’s because he regrets what happened on the terrace last night…
Or because he wanted it to happen again today and Ragnar ruined everything.
That wasn’t just a kiss last night.
This isn’t a fake relationship anymore.
And I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to do with that.
Because in a few days, the Highland Games begin.
The entire McGregor family will descend on the village. Maggie will watch us like a hawk. The whole town will be paying attention.
And we’re two people who can’t even pretend anymore because everything became too real, too fast, too intense.
I look at Ragnar.
“If you have any more brilliant ideas for sabotaging my life, please don’t hold back.”
The sheep opens one eye, looks at me, then closes it again.
I stand and begin cleaning my instruments.
Because it’s either that or burst into tears, and I refuse to cry over a ruined kiss and a manipulative sheep.
But while I clean the forceps and put away the bandages, one thought settles into me with absolute certainty.
I’m in love with Finn McLeod.
Completely.
Irrevocably.
Stupidly in love with a grumpy man who runs the second anyone gets too close to him.
And I have absolutely no idea how he really feels about me.
He kissed me last night.
He said he couldn’t keep pretending.
But today?
Today he ran the second Ragnar interrupted us.
Like it was a relief.
Like it gave him the perfect excuse not to face whatever’s happening between us.
Outside, the sky darkens.
A storm is coming.
The Highland Games are getting closer.
And we’re about to lose everything.
Or win everything.
I can’t tell the difference anymore.