Chapter 29
FINN
The Intervention
(Or How Nate Kidnapped a Grumpy Doctor)
My medical equipment has reappeared.
I stare at the coffee table in the cottage sitting room in complete disbelief.
The green sock I didn’t even realize I’d lost.
The stethoscope I’d been missing yesterday.
The entire medical bag, neatly organized.
Everything is there, exactly as though nothing had ever disappeared.
I searched for this stuff last night before heading to the pub to drown myself in whisky and self-loathing.
It wasn’t here.
And now it’s back.
Like magic.
Except it isn’t magic.
It’s Mary.
She came to return my things.
I walk toward the bag and unzip it.
Everything is perfectly organized.
Bandages.
Medication.
Blood pressure cuff.
Every single thing in its proper place.
And I know that’s because of Mary.
I zip the bag shut abruptly and turn away.
I don’t want to think about it.
I don’t want to picture Mary standing in this empty room, touching my medical equipment with her capable hands, wondering if maybe things could’ve ended differently.
No.
I did the right thing.
She deserves better than some haunted doctor who destroys everything he touches.
A knock pounds against the door.
“Finn! Open up! It’s urgent!” Nate shouts from outside.
I yank the door open.
My cousin stands there looking worried.
Almost panicked.
“There’s a seriously sick patient who needs your help,” he says immediately. “Right now.”
My doctor instincts snap awake instantly, shoving everything else aside.
“Where?”
“Not far. Come on, I’ll drive.”
My eyes flick toward the table where my medical bag sits, newly returned.
“One second. Let me grab my stuff.”
I pick up the bag and my jacket.
I should thank Mary…
Stop thinking about her. You have a patient to help.
I follow Nate to his truck.
He pulls away before I’ve even buckled my seatbelt.
“What are the symptoms?” I ask immediately.
“Bad.”
“Nate, I need more details. Cardiac? Respiratory? Trauma?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
His answer is evasive, but I’m too exhausted to push harder.
I stare out the window instead.
The Highlands are swallowed by mist, softening the harsh lines of the moorland.
It should feel peaceful.
It doesn’t.
All I see is Mary laughing beside the bonfire.
Mary dancing with her cousins.
Mary looking at me like I was someone good.
Before I ruined everything and proved otherwise.
We’ve been driving fifteen minutes before I finally start questioning this.
We haven’t passed a single house.
No village.
No isolated farmhouse.
Nothing but endless moorland stretching in every direction.
“Nate. Where exactly are we going?”
“Not far.”
But he keeps driving.
And the road gets narrower.
More isolated.
Five more minutes pass.
Then ten.
My exhausted brain finally catches up.
“Nate.”
He doesn’t answer.
“There’s nobody out here.”
Silence.
“Where’s the patient?”
He keeps driving, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the road.
And suddenly I understand.
“There is no patient, is there?”
Nate pulls over in the middle of nowhere on a dirt road overlooking the valley.
The Highlands spread endlessly before us.
Purple heather.
Pearl-gray sky.
Not another living soul in sight.
He finally cuts the engine.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snap.
Nate turns toward me.
The panic is gone from his face.
Now he just looks furious.
“I’m saving your life.”
“By kidnapping me?”
“By stopping you from destroying yourself, idiot.”
I laugh bitterly.
The sound hurts my throat.
“I’m not destroying myself.”
“Yes, you are. Exactly the same way you did in Edinburgh.”
The city name drops between us like an executioner’s blade.
I go rigid instantly.
“I don’t want to talk about Edinburgh.”
“Too bad. Because I do.”
I reach for the door handle.
Nate hits the central lock.
“You can leave if you want,” he says calmly. “But first you’re going to listen.”
“I have nothing to hear.”
“You told Mary it was fake. That she was a mistake.”
I freeze.
“How do you—”
“Lily heard it from Keira. Everybody knows, Finn.”
Everybody knows.
Perfect.
My cowardice is officially public knowledge now.
“It was the right decision,” I say stubbornly, voice rough.
“The right decision?” Nate repeats incredulously. “You shattered her.”
“I’m protecting her.”
“Are you protecting her? Or protecting yourself?”
I don’t answer.
Because I don’t have an answer.
Or rather, I do.
I just refuse to admit it.
Nate turns fully toward me now.
“That little girl in Edinburgh? You weren’t responsible.”
“I don’t want to—”
“The investigation cleared you, Finn. Your colleagues supported you. But you refuse to forgive yourself.”
My hand tightens around the door handle.
“If I forgive myself, then her death stops mattering.”
“No,” Nate says more gently. “It means her death doesn’t get to ruin two more lives.”
Something twists violently in my chest.
“I could’ve saved her.”
“Maybe. Or maybe not. You’ll never know. But what you do know is that you’re a good doctor. You save lives every day. You’ve helped dozens of people in Glenfield.”
“That doesn’t bring her back.”
“No. But it still matters.”
I close my eyes.
The image of the girl’s mother slams back into me.
Her screams in the hospital hallway.
Her accusations.
You should’ve known. You should’ve done more.
She was right.
“You’re not God, Finn,” Nate says quietly. “You’re human. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”
“Not when they cost someone their life.”
“So what then?” Nate shoots back. “You punish yourself forever? Refuse every chance at happiness like somehow that balances the scales? Push away everyone who loves you? What exactly’s the sentence here, Finn? Five years alone? Ten? Your whole damn life?”
“Mary doesn’t love me,” I mutter weakly.
Nate stares at me like I’m the dumbest man in the Highlands.
“Of course she does.”
“It was an arrangement. A fake relationship to—”
“I know. Lily told me everything. The whole plan to outmaneuver Maggie. But that was at the beginning.”
He pauses.
“You know damn well it stopped being fake after that. You can keep lying to yourself if you want, but honestly, I expected better from you.”
I don’t answer.
Because he’s right.
It stopped being fake the moment I kissed her.
Or maybe before that.
Maybe the first day Ragnar chose me and Mary laughed, annoyed but amused.
“You want to know why I brought you out here?” Nate asks.
I look at him, waiting for the next blow.
“No, but apparently I’m being held hostage, so go ahead,” I mutter.
“Because Mary’s leaving.”
The world stops turning.
“What?”
“She’s leaving Glenfield. She already applied for jobs somewhere else.”
My heart slams so hard against my ribs I think it might explode.
“She’s… leaving?”
“Perthshire. The Borders. Somewhere. Who knows.”
Mary.
Leaving Glenfield.
Leaving me.
Disappearing from my life forever.
“I thought she’d stay,” I whisper. “This is her home.”
“You thought you were staying too,” Nate replies quietly. “And yet you were getting ready to leave, weren’t you?”
I can’t lie.
“I thought about it.”
“Of course you did. Running away is what you do best.”
Anger surges instantly.
“I’m not running. I’m—”
“You are,” he cuts in sharply. “You ran from Edinburgh. And now you’re running from your feelings. Running from Mary. But you can’t spend your entire life running, Finn.”
“I don’t know how to do anything else!”
Nate watches me for a long moment.
“You know why I almost lost Lily?”
I shake my head.
“Because I was scared. Scared I wasn’t good enough. Scared she’d realize I was just some failed contractor bouncing between odd jobs.”
He pauses.
“So I pushed her away. Again and again. Until she decided to leave for London.”
“But you didn’t let her go.”
“No. Because Hamish showed me what I refused to see.”
Despite everything, I almost smile.
“A sheep gave you life advice?”
“He’s smarter than he looks.”
Silence settles again.
“You hide behind your trauma,” Nate says quietly. “You use that little girl as an excuse not to live. Because living means taking risks.”
“That’s not—”
“Yes, it is. That little girl died. It’s awful. But Mary is alive.”
His voice hardens.
“And if you don’t do something, you’re going to lose the only real chance at happiness you’ve had in years.”
Something inside me cracks.
“I don’t know how,” I whisper.
“How to do what?”
“Be the man she deserves. Be happy. Stop hating myself.”
My voice breaks on the last words.
Nate places a hand on my shoulder.
“You start by accepting that you’re allowed to be imperfect. And loved anyway.”
“I love her,” I admit.
It’s the purest truth I’ve ever spoken.
I fought it.
God, I fought it.
But I still fell hopelessly in love with her light, her warmth, her impossible heart.
“I love her, and I don’t know how to deserve her.”
“Then start by stopping the running,” Nate says simply.
We sit there in the truck in the middle of nowhere surrounded by the brutal beauty of the Highlands.
“And if I tell her everything and she rejects me?” I ask eventually.
“At least you tried. At least you won’t spend the rest of your life wondering what if.”
He pauses.
“And honestly? I don’t think she’ll reject you. But you have to be honest with her. Really honest. No fake arrangements. No pretending. No hiding behind protection.”
“How much time do I have?”
“I don’t know. A few days? Maybe a week? She’s interviewing for a clinic job in Perthshire.”
One week.
That’s all I have left to decide whether I keep punishing myself…
Or finally choose to live.
Nate starts the truck again.
“I’ll take you back. But what happens next is your choice. You can keep destroying yourself. Or you can fight for her. For both of you.”
The drive back happens in silence.
But this time, when I look at the Highlands rolling past outside the window, I actually see them.
The heather.
The stone walls.
The shifting sky.
The savage beauty of the land that somehow welcomed me despite my terrible attitude.
Nate drops me off outside the cottage.
“Finn?”
I turn around.
“She loves you. And you love her.”
He gives me a sad smile.
“Don’t screw this up.”
I walk inside the cottage.
It’s still empty.
My gaze lands on a folded piece of paper left on the table.
My name is written across it in Mary’s quick, familiar handwriting.
I pick it up and unfold it.
Thank you for these past few weeks. It could’ve been real. — M.
Could’ve been.
Past tense.
Because for her, this is over.
The way she summarizes everything in one sentence completely shatters me.
It could’ve been real.
But I never gave it the chance.
I never gave us the chance.
Suddenly, I hear movement outside.
My heart slams violently against my ribs, and before I can think, I’m already heading for the door.
“Mary?”
I swing it open.
But it isn’t Mary standing there.
It’s Ragnar.
The sheep walks inside without hesitation, crosses the room, and settles beside the table.
Then he lifts his head and fixes those dark, intelligent eyes on me.
And there we are.
One broken man.
One sheep as his only friend.
Honestly, it’s pathetic.