Chapter 25
FINN
The Jealous Doctor and the Supportive Sheep
(Or How Ragnar Understood What I Refused to Admit)
The medical station opens at exactly nine o’clock, and there are already three patients waiting outside the white tent.
An eight-year-old kid with a scraped knee. A woman in her forties who twisted her ankle setting up her pastry stand. And a man who tried lifting a caber during warmups and strained a muscle in his back.
I bring them in one by one and treat their injuries with the mechanical efficiency left behind by three hours of sleep and an entire sleepless night replaying images of Mary dancing with Jamie MacNeil.
Disinfect.
Bandage.
Advice.
Next.
“Keep your foot elevated tonight,” I tell the woman with the sprained ankle. “And use ice if the pain gets worse.”
She thanks me and limps out of the tent.
I stay seated there in the white canvas tent that smells like disinfectant and damp fabric, forcing myself not to look toward the animal pens.
Toward Mary.
It doesn’t work.
My gaze drifts there anyway.
From where I’m sitting, I have a perfect view of the paddocks set up for the Highland Games. And of the auburn-haired woman leaning over a horse inside one of the enclosures.
She isn’t alone.
Jamie MacNeil—tall, broad-shouldered, annoyingly comfortable in his own skin—is standing beside her. They work together with an easy synchronization that twists my stomach into knots.
Don’t look.
It’s none of your business.
I drag my eyes away and grab my consultation logbook, but concentrating is impossible.
The morning passes in a blur of mechanical appointments. I feel like a medical robot: diagnosis, treatment, next patient.
Meanwhile, my brain remains stuck a hundred yards away near the paddocks where Mary and Jamie continue their little reunion tour.
“Dr. McLeod?”
I jerk upright.
A young woman is holding out her bandaged wrist.
“Sorry,” I mutter, forcing myself to focus. “Let me see.”
Around noon, Ragnar arrives.
The authoritarian, temperamental sheep who hates everyone except me—for reasons I still don’t understand—crosses the Games grounds like he owns the entire estate, completely ignores three children trying to pet him, and marches directly to my medical tent.
Then he stares at me.
I stare back.
“What are you doing here?” I ask quietly.
As if I didn’t already have enough issues without adding talks to sheep to the list directly beneath grumpy.
Ragnar, unsurprisingly, does not answer.
He simply settles at my feet beside my chair and refuses to move.
“You know I’m busy, right? People require medical attention.”
The sheep gives me a look that clearly says: I do not care.
And he stays there, pressed against me like a stubborn wool-covered shadow.
It’s ridiculous.
Embarrassing.
And strangely… comforting?
No.
It’s just weird.
The next patient, a teenage boy with a mild sprain, walks into the tent, sees Ragnar, and stops dead.
“Uh… is the sheep supposed to be here?”
“Apparently.”
I wrap his ankle while Ragnar watches with visible disapproval, as though treating humans is an enormous waste of time.
Nate shows up a few minutes later carrying two sandwiches and two beers.
“Hey, cousin! Brought you food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Yes, you are. And you also look like you need to talk.”
He drops into the patient chair, sets the sandwiches on the table, and waits.
I say nothing.
Ragnar, still glued to my feet, lets out a low grumble.
“So,” Nate says while unwrapping his sandwich, “how’s your day going?”
“Fine.”
“Finn.”
“It’s busy. Lots of accidents during the Games, you know.”
Nate bites into his sandwich, chews slowly, and watches me with the expression he reserves for moments when he knows I’m lying through my teeth.
After swallowing, he asks casually:
“Seen Mary today?”
I stiffen instantly.
“No. She’s busy with the animals.”
“With Jamie MacNeil, you mean?”
My jaw tightens.
I stare down at my hands like they’ve suddenly become fascinating and grab the second sandwich way too quickly.
“I don’t know,” I answer vaguely.
“Finn.”
“Maybe.”
Nate follows my gaze as it drifts helplessly back toward the paddocks again.
From here, we can see two silhouettes near one of the fences.
I bite into my sandwich.
“He seems… close to Mary,” Nate comments with suspiciously perfect neutrality.
I remember that I’m still technically supposed to maintain the fake-boyfriend facade, although apparently not for much longer.
Because Mary is probably about to get a real one.
Something twists painfully in my stomach, and I swallow with effort.
“They’re just friends,” I manage once my airway finally clears the bite of sandwich.
“Oh really?”
“Really.”
Nate leans back and studies me like I’m an especially difficult patient.
“You know you’re allowed to have feelings, right?”
“I do have feelings. Fatigue. Irritation. Mild homicidal urges.”
“Come on. Admit it.”
“Admit what?”
“That you’re jealous.”
The word detonates between us.
I stare at him.
He doesn’t even blink.
“I’m not jealous.”
“Really? Because you look jealous. You’ve literally got a vein pulsing in your temple. And Ragnar is practically attached to your feet like an emotional support sheep.”
I glance down at the animal.
Ragnar looks back at me with what appears disturbingly close to sheep sympathy.
Fantastic.
Even the most antisocial creature in the county pities me.
“I have no right to be jealous,” I say quietly.
“Oh,” Nate replies. “Because that’s how feelings work? They respect social etiquette?”
I don’t answer.
Nate sighs.
“Look. I don’t know what’s going on between you and Mary. But I do know you’ve looked like this since last night. And Jamie MacNeil and Mary have history.”
My chest tightens.
“What kind of history?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“The childhood-friends kind. Nothing romantic as far as I know. But they know each other really well. Very well.”
Of course they do.
“I should go,” Nate says, grabbing his beer. “Lily’s waiting for me. But Finn?”
“What?”
“Stop torturing yourself. If Mary matters to you, do something about it. Otherwise… let it go.”
Then he leaves me alone with Ragnar and a half-eaten sandwich.
The afternoon stretches endlessly.
More patients. More sprains. More cuts. A woman faints from the heat and needs rehydration.
And between every appointment, my eyes drift back toward the paddocks.
Mary and Jamie are inseparable.
They work together. Talk together.
At one point, I see them laughing.
Jamie rests a hand on Mary’s shoulder in a gesture that looks natural, protective, and far too familiar.
Ragnar lets out another disapproving grumble at my feet.
“I know,” I tell him quietly. “I know.”
I stay there with my throat tight.
Ragnar presses his muzzle against my foot like he’s saying, I’m here, you stupid human.
By five o’clock, I can’t take it anymore.
I need to get out of this tent.
I can’t keep watching Mary and Jamie together.
I temporarily close the medical station—one of the clan nurses will cover for the evening—and head toward the village.
Ragnar follows me like a shadow.
Apparently the sheep has decided not to leave my side, trotting behind me like a loyal dog, except significantly stranger.
“You know you’re supposed to be in a pen somewhere, right?”
Ragnar ignores me completely.
We walk through the village.
The streets are nearly empty since everyone’s at the Games. The Grumpy Sheep pub is open, of course. I’ve heard Ewan never closes during the Games.
I push open the door, and Ragnar tries following me inside, but I shake my head.
“Sorry, buddy. No sheep allowed inside. Health code.”
Ragnar gives me a deeply offended look while I leave him outside the pub.
Inside is crowded, loud, overflowing with laughter and the smell of fried food.
Perfect.
Exactly what I need.
To drown in noise—and maybe whisky—and forget.
Ewan stands behind the bar looking overwhelmed but cheerful. He spots me immediately.
“Finn! Over here!”
I make my way through the crowd and sit on a barstool. Ewan places a whisky in front of me before I even ask.
“Rough day?”
“You could say that.”
I take a sip. The whisky burns pleasantly down my throat.
Ewan wipes the counter and gives me an observant look.
“You seem tense.”
“I’m the doctor for the Highland Games. That’s normal.”
“Uh-huh. And it has absolutely nothing to do with Mary spending the day with Jamie?”
I stiffen.
How does literally everyone know?
Ewan raises both hands peacefully.
“Glenfield’s a small village, my friend. News travels fast. Besides, I saw Mary and Jamie grabbing coffee together this morning.”
I take another drink.
A longer one this time.
“It’s none of my business.”
“Really? Because you look very much like someone whose business it absolutely is.”
I don’t answer.
Ewan leans closer, lowering his voice slightly despite the noise surrounding us.
“Look. Jamie and Mary grew up together. He always had a thing for her, that’s true. But she never saw him that way. At least that’s what she used to say.”
The words echo in my head like a sentence being handed down.
“They have history,” I say quietly. “A past. Shared memories.”
Ewan looks at me with surprising gentleness.
“Yeah. But she chose you.”
I want to laugh.
Or cry.
Possibly both.
She didn’t choose me.
She chose a lie.
A convenient arrangement.
A way to escape Maggie’s manipulations.
But I can’t tell Ewan that. Nobody can know.
I finish the whisky in one swallow.
“You want another?” Ewan asks.
“No. I… should go.”
I toss some cash on the counter, stand, and turn around.
And there she is.
Mary.
She walks into the pub breathless, hair slightly messy, cheeks pink from the cold night air.
She looks around.
Our eyes meet.
And she smiles at me.
My heart stops.
“Finn! I was looking for you. We could grab something to eat together if you want…”
“Sorry. They need me back at the medical station.”
I think disappointment flashes in her eyes, but maybe I imagined it.
“Oh. Okay. I guess I’ll see you later then?”
I just nod before walking out of the pub.
Ragnar is waiting faithfully outside.
The moment he sees me, he rises and falls into step beside me.
I don’t go back to the medical station.
I just keep walking through the village and onto the path running alongside the fields.
Ragnar follows the entire time.
Night settles over the Highlands.
The landscape is beautiful.
It should feel peaceful.
Instead, all I feel is this dull ache in my chest.
Mary and Jamie have history.
A past.
Memories together that I’ll never have with her.
I stop beside a low stone wall separating the castle lands from the open moor. In the distance, I can still see the lights from the Highland Games and hear music drifting across the wind.
Ragnar settles beside my feet, warm against my leg.
A sheep understands me better than anyone else right now.
Pathetic, Finn.
Truly pathetic.
“You know what, Ragnar?” I say out loud because there’s nobody around to judge me anyway.
“I fell in love with her while I was supposed to be pretending. And now I’m jealous of a guy who grew up with her, makes her laugh, and gets to belong in her life without needing a contract or some stupid arrangement. ”
Ragnar lets out a soft bleat.
“Thanks for the support, my friend.”
I stay sitting on that stone wall for a long time, with only a sheep for company, watching night fall over the Highlands.
I need to stop this.
I need to end this arrangement before I completely lose my mind.
Ragnar presses his muzzle against my knee like he can read my thoughts.
And maybe he can.
Because he knows what it feels like to be misunderstood too.
In the end, that grumpy sheep and I are more alike than I’d like to admit.
And honestly, that’s not reassuring at all.