3
3
Callum
Kelly: Think you can squeeze an extra appointment in this afternoon?
Callum: Who’s the patient?
Kelly: A four-year-old cat.
Possible UTI.
Callum: No problem.
Just shorten my lunch hour.
“What do you mean you’re not coming home?” Swinging my car onto Bridge Road, I cut past the harbour and the rolling waves lapping in great swathes of foam over the pebbled beach, dragging with them the heavy clouds from the mainland.
My brother’s voice pulled away from the phone, murmuring to someone.
“Alistair?”
“Sorry – shit – I’m listening.” Paper rustled.
“My resident nurse is on the phone to the hospital regarding a patient and I can’t find his bloody file.”
“You promised you were coming home next week. You’ve been promising for months .”
“I know and I’m sorry. Things are just crazy here right now. You know I hate letting my patients down.”
But he’d let his family down?
Guilt rose, edging out the treacherous thought.
My brother was a good man doing a noble job.
And yet … I was undeniably pissed.
I wanted to go at him like I would have as a teen, until we were both a little bruised.
“I get it,” I finally said, tamping down the bitterness threatening to poison my tone.
Manoeuvring my oversized four-by-four, which was perfectly made for traversing the sprawling country roads of the island but felt ridiculous on the picturesque rat runs of Kinleith village, around a particularly tight corner, I aimed for the small car park at the end of the pedestrianised high street.
“But you need to visit at some point, Alistair. I don’t want to tell Heather and Mal yet, but he’s getting worse every month.” Every week.
Just saying the words aloud felt like a betrayal to my ever-hopeful mother.
“I can’t just abandon my life.”
“I’m not asking you to abandon your life but, hell , take a few weeks off. You haven’t taken a holiday in years; they owe you that much.” How could he not grasp how important this was?
“If you don’t come back soon, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
“I know and I will. Maybe next month when things calm down a little, yeah?” Low murmurs followed and I fought an eye roll.
“Look,” he said to me, “I’ve got to go. I’ll phone Mum later and explain.”
“Don’t worry.” Sighing, I rubbed a hand across my brow to ease the growing tension, suddenly weary to my damn bones.
“I’ll tell her.”
I’d served as a medic in the military.
Seen combat in wars I never wanted to be a part of.
Held friends and innocent civilians as they took their final breaths.
I’d experienced loss and pain over and over and over.
It felt ridiculous that this could be the thing to finally break me.
“Yeah?” He sighed in relief, “Thanks big bro.” The line cut out before I could say another word.
Fucking great. I slammed a hand on the wheel.
The unlined patch of tarmac before the town hall was tight, room for twelve cars, max.
And that didn’t account for the large RV currently taking up three spaces.
“Damn tourists.” Didn’t they know summer was over?
Aiming for a small spot at the very end by the rope fence, I slowed, shifting into reverse just as another car entered the lot.
A black, electric go-kart that looked about as safe as a tin can.
And behind the wheel – the source of my every fantasy.
Juniper Ross peeled through the opening like a bat out of hell.
Tyres spinning, she aimed for the singular parking spot.
My spot. Had I been feeling more charitable, I might have let her have it.
Bad luck for her.
Extending my middle finger in her direction, I slung my free arm over the passenger seat, turning the wheel with the heel of my hand, backing smoothly into the space seconds before Juniper screeched to a halt, her bumper kissing mine.
Our eyes locked like competitors on a starting block, then she threw up her hands, mouth slinging silent curses that stoked my first laugh of the day.
What I wouldn’t give to hear every insult flying from that vicious mouth.
I was still laughing when I shut off the engine and climbed out.
Juniper rolled down her window and anticipation fizzed in my stomach.
“What the hell, Macabe?” Macabe.
Why did it get me so hot when she said my name like that?
Because you’re a sick, sick man.
Her tone was cutting but somehow still sweet.
Her expression like a knife dipped in honey.
“Oh, hey, neighbour.” I flashed a grin.
The toothy one that always pissed her off.
“I didn’t see you there.”
“ Right . That was my spot and you know it.”
Ignoring the accusation, I ran an assessing eye over her compact vehicle.
“Does that thing have gears or did you Flintstone all the way here?”
“Move,” she said.
It wasn’t a request.
“Nope.” And just like that I felt better already.
My conversation with Alistair, my worry over Dad, all fled to the furthest, dusty corner of my mind until it was only this.
Only her .
“ Move .”
I let my head tilt, giving myself a heartbeat to take her in beneath the low baseball cap she wore.
So damn delicate . With her slim nose and big brown eyes, she looked like a water nymph, completely at odds with the fire and ice battling beneath her skin.
“Ask me nicely. Say, ‘Callum, will you pretty please put those superior driving skills to good use and move your car?’”
“ Superior driving skills? ”
“I know, I know. Witty, handsome and an excellent driver. The scales are unfairly tipped in my favour.” She rolled her eyes.
“Say it, harpy, and the space is yours.”
When she remained stubbornly silent, I prodded, “Today is Thursday.”
“So?”
“ So … it’s still another four days until oat and raisin cookie day. But you already knew that.”
“You stole my spot over a damn cookie?” She gripped the steering wheel like she might run me over.
Fool I was, I’d probably let her.
“One of Jess’s cookies. Wars have been fought over less.”
“You are completely unreasonable.” No.
Fucking petty was more accurate.
“Perhaps.”
“Move.”
I tapped my lips, pretended to think it over.
“No. I don’t think I will.”
“I saw it first, it’s driver’s etiquette.”
I rapped my knuckles on the hood of my car.
“And yet I’m the one with the space.”
“Have I told you that I hate you?”
Every damn day.
The words didn’t sting like they used to.
Rather, they set me ablaze, my blood rising to meet them like a challenge.
She said she hated me – my only thought was How much?
How far did I need to push until she unravelled?
And what would that hate taste like on my tongue?
Like I said, a sick, sick man.
“No you don’t. But feel free to lie if it makes you feel better.” I glanced at my watch, knowing I had to wrap this up if I wanted to leave with any of my remaining defences against this woman intact.
“While I love sparring with you, some of us have places to be, harpy.”
“Screw you.” Her tyres spun, the sentiment smoke in the air as she sped back the way she came.
One eye on her retreating car, I knew I was smiling like a sociopath as I retrieved a small hutch from the back seat, checking through the mesh cover that the white and black lop-eared bunny was sitting comfortably.
“Good work this morning, Simon, the kids loved you.” He didn’t look up from the sliced apples I’d allowed the children to feed him before leaving Kinleith Primary School.
He nibbed with ferocity, his pink little nose twitching.
Crate in hand, I barely made it across the car park before I pulled my phone from my pocket, hitting my mum’s number.
“Hi, love,” she answered after a few rings.
My chest tightened at the tired edge to her voice.
“Bad night?”
“So-so. He woke up a few times and it was a struggle to get him back into bed. He kept putting his coat and shoes on. Said he wanted to go for a walk. I had to hide the front door keys in the bathroom cabinet.”
Shit.
“The meds for the leg pain didn’t help?”
“The doctor said it might take a few days to fully settle him, we need to be patient and wait it out.”
Halting at the foot of the high street, I dipped into a small alcove between the beauty salon and the pet store.
The air tasted like damp autumn leaves, at odds with the cheerful bunting that still zigzagged above the brightly painted shopping street, better known by tourists as the rainbow walk.
The wind-torn fabric fluttered beneath the melancholy cloud cover, as though not quite ready to relinquish its hold on summer.
In a few short months the Hogmanay celebrations would begin.
Locals would line the narrow street to witness Kinleith revert to its pagan roots, performers swinging flaming fireballs about their heads while drummers and pipers led them in a dangerous dance.
My favourite time of year.
Out of sight, I slumped against the brick wall.
“I can sleep there tonight, give you a wee break.”
“No. You already slept here three nights this week, I’m not letting this consume your life.”
Typical Mum, so stubborn about some things and lenient about others.
“And you can’t keep going on like this.” I couldn’t remember the last time either of us had gotten a full night’s sleep.
Dad had been diagnosed just under a year ago but the swift decline these past months was staggering.
This had already consumed my life.
It made no difference if I slept on the damn pull-out.
“Mum, I know you didn’t want to discuss assisted living—”
“And I don’t now. I’m managing just fine.” Fuck.
This was why I needed Alistair home.
He was the only person she’d listen to.
“Did you call just to be a busybody, I thought you were working?”
“I’m on my way to the practice now. I had my weekly animal therapy session at the school with Simon.”
“Of course, I’ve been getting my days mixed up lately. Did I tell you how proud I am of you? You were always my most sensitive wee soul, even as a boy.”
The words were like a punch to the gut.
My first instinct to shut her down, just as Dad would have.
Jim Macabe, along with my mandatory six years in the army, had done all they could to grind the sensitivity out of me.
“Thanks Mum.” The words were so low, they were almost swallowed by the breeze.
“Look, I need to get to work, I was only calling to let you know Alistair can’t make it next week.”
“ Oh … well, I know how busy he is.” Her disappointment left a metallic taste in my mouth.
“Right …” I cleared my throat.
“He’s going to let us know when he reschedules.”
“Okay, love. And I don’t want you rushing around here after work, relax, take the evening to yourself.”
The thought of catching up on my mounting paperwork was tempting, but— “I’ll just sit at home. I may as well come and do that with you.”
“You could actually go out.”
“What’s out?”
“Hilarious. When I was your age, Dad hired a babysitter every Friday without fail so we could go to the village disco.”
“This isn’t the 1920s.” I deadpanned.
“If it was, you’d have your own family to worry about.”
“Ouch, Mum.” I rubbed the spot on my chest her barb had struck.
“It’s a little early for home truths, don’t you think?”
“I see more grandchildren in my future and for that, I need my son to regain his social life. Go on a date, join a hiking group, do something.”
“Mum—”
“Do something,” she repeated firmly.
“You promise to call me if anything happens?”
“Promise,” she echoed before the line went dead.
Dating? I snorted to myself.
As if I have the time .
Shoving that thought aside, I clutched Simon’s carrier tighter and hurried back onto the street.
If the army had taught me anything useful, it was the art of compartmentalising.
I was two doors from the practice when a familiar lean form snatched my attention.
The silky black locks I’d dreamed about long before I knew what it was to run my hands through them.
You could block my ears and blindfold me and I could still pick her out of a line-up from the gut tingles alone.
Fucking gut tingles.
When had I become this pathetic?
Didn’t stop me from coming to a dead stop in the middle of the street.
Juniper.
Twice in one day.
The universe clearly wanted to punish me.
Her strides were short and jerky, head ducked low as she hurried along the path, no doubt from the overflow car park that charged a small fortune for a single hour.
Yeah, a definite arsehole move on my part.
The space was rightfully hers and had she been anyone else, I would have let them have it.
The problem was, Juniper Ross had infected my brain.
And five years ago she’d destroyed me so thoroughly in a hotel car park, I’d never quite pieced myself back together.
A little light hazing was a small price to pay.
And I had a sneaking suspicion she got off on this little game as much as I did.
From a safe distance my eyes devoured her sleek lines, like it had been weeks not minutes since I’d seen her last. Despite the chill, she was dressed in only a strappy tank top, and it wasn’t until I noticed how the fabric literally clung to her that it registered she was soaking wet.
Damp footprints lay behind her like a treasure trail.
Water dripped from her workout shorts, hair flicking from beneath the cap in damp curls as she ducked into the small hardware store.
Had it rained today?
No .
How didn’t I notice the state of her before?
Now I really felt like an arsehole.
I changed direction without thinking, ducking through the door only seconds behind her.
The bell sounded and the owner, Duncan, nodded over the top of his hardback.
“Morning, Callum. All ready for the first match next week?”
“Aye.” Distracted, my gaze scanned the three small aisles leading away from the counter.
Uninspiring metal shelving stacked with tools, paint samples and rolls of wallpaper.
Anything more required delivery from the mainland.
“Jamie had a few ideas about testing out a new team formation—”
“That’s great, tell him to email me.” A flash of black in the furthest corner and my feet closed the distance.
What are you doing here, sweetheart?
You don’t DIY.
I found her in the sparse bathroom section, grabbing seemingly random items and shoving them into a large orange bucket with an unravelled urgency I’d never seen from her.
Rolls of duct tape, quick repair putty, a wrench, several pairs of gloves, mop heads.
Even a trowel made the cut.
“What are you doing?”
She leapt a damn foot in the air, hand flying to her chest. Then she turned the full force of those doe eyes on me.
“Not now, Macabe.”
The words might have been cutting had she not resembled an injured dog.
Despite the few inches I had on her, she managed to look down her nose at me, standing as straight as an arrow, an artificial stillness bolting her limbs in place.
Juniper always held herself with complete control, even when she thought no one was watching.
Aloof. Cold. Unrelenting.
As though she didn’t trust a single other person to help her carry the load.
Years ago, I’d seen her tough outer shell as a challenge, crack it just right and you’d be rewarded with her soft centre.
Now I knew better. Because crack it wrong , and there’d be nothing left to hold the shattered pieces together.
“I think now is exactly the time, if anyone gets to bear witness to this —” I drew a circle around her with my index finger.
“I’m so glad it’s me.”
Come on, sweetheart, play with me.
Instead, she gave me her back, continuing her rendition of Supermarket Sweep .
“Can you stalk me another day?”
“Now, now, harpy, that almost sounded wishful.”
“Can you just fuck off? Just for once … please fuck off. I can’t do this with you today.” She clutched a tube of bathroom sealant so tightly in her fist I thought the lid might pop.
“Save up those witty little remarks and post them to me. But for now, just leave. Please .”
I looked at her again, finally noting then the lines of tension in her shoulders and jaw.
The fresh tears on her cheek.
Fuck, I couldn’t handle her crying.
“You going to tell me what happened?”
“No.” Her chin tipped proudly.
There was something uniquely satisfying about gaining the full focus of Juniper’s attention.
It thrilled and it terrified.
Her eyes pierced, like she could read my thoughts.
Like she could read every thought I’d ever had in my life.
“Why?”
“Because you’ll find a way to turn it into a joke.”
What the hell?
Yes, I liked to piss her off, loved it in fact, but could she truly think I wouldn’t help her?
“Pinky swear I won’t.” I held up my hand, extending the little finger I’d broken in high school that never fully straightened.
“Fuck my life,” she muttered, fingers digging through her wet hair.
“Fine. I hired Gordon Murray to update some of the bathrooms while Fiona’s away and he flooded half the first floor.”
I laughed.
Shit, but I couldn’t help it.
“ See? I knew you’d be like this.”
“I’m sorry.” I clutched my stomach.
“But seriously? Old man Murray? The guy’s on the waiting list for cataract surgery. Why do you think he takes his grandsons along?”
“How the hell was I supposed to know that?”
“ Everyone knows that.”
“Yeah, well I don’t gossip like an old fishwife.” She punctuated what was obviously meant as a dig with a cock of one perfectly manicured eyebrow.
I wanted to lick that fucking eyebrow .
“Gossiping like an old fishwife might have helped on this occasion.”
I didn’t think it possible, but her scowl deepened.
“They should put out a damn bulletin about this shit.”
“Probably.” I nodded to the contents of the bucket.
“What’s the trowel for?”
“I grabbed everything I could think of to fix it.”
“Need some help? I’m very handy with a wrench.” I had a full afternoon of appointments but for her, I’d shift stuff around.
“For you to sabotage the situation even more? Thanks, but no thanks.” Shoes squelching, she circled me, gliding to the counter with all the grace of a queen.
Bloody stubborn woman.
Before I could do something ridiculous, like offer to pay for every useless item in that bucket, I strode out the door and across the road to the practice.
Handing Simon’s carrier over to my vet nurse, Kelly, who cooed over him like a returning war hero, I pulled out my phone to text Mal: If you have a spare hour.
Drive out to Ivy House and find out how bad it is.
His reply came almost instantly.
Before April, a weekly phone call from my baby brother was akin to winning the lottery.
Mal: A little more info might be helpful.
Callum: A leak of some kind.
Mal: Shit. I’ll head over in an hour.
Callum: Take April.
Juniper was like a bloodhound.
She’d eat Malcolm alive the moment she realised I’d sent him.
Knocking softly, Kelly popped her head through the door.
“Jill Mortimer is here with Biscuit.”
“Again? She was in last week.” Pulling on my white jacket, I coiled the stethoscope around my neck.
“Is her leg still bothering her?”
“Nope.” Kelly shook her head, fighting a smirk.
“Stomach issues, apparently.” Damn it , I scrubbed a hand over my jaw, scratching at the too long bristles.
Jill Mortimer couldn’t take a hint.
And she had more hands than a freaking octopus.
“You look tired, I can try and rearrange—”
“I’m fine. Send her through.”