“Nae—” His friend held out a staying hand. “—ye ken there is a grain of truth in my words. Life isnae so black and white. Winds turn, masts crack, sails have tae be jury-rigged. We make do until a new breeze comes and pushes us in an unexpected direction. Change is hard. It’s often messy and hurts like bloody hell. But sometimes, ye have tae leave the past and move forward into an unknown future.
Silence rang with Kieran’s words.
Alex pursed his mouth.
Yes, he did struggle to leave things to others, but that was only because he was a damn fine physician. He had worked hard to become such.
He didn’t have a problem with letting things go that needed to be discarded. He had sold McPherson Farms, had he not?
Kieran watched him, surely noting the emotions flitting across Alex’s face.
“I know ye, my friend,” Kieran continued. “It’s more than just rejecting things that are messy. Ye bury yourself in the things ye keep. Ye toss away the family farm because it holds pain for ye. And then ye use the excuse of your medical practice to run yourself to exhaustion every day. Of course, ye dinnae want tae give up your practice, Alex.” Kieran stared at him. “It’s an addiction for ye, as surely as alcohol was for your father. As sure as opium for Ian.”
The truth of Kieran’s words thundered through Alex’s stunned brain.
Was work an uncontrollable force of habit for him?
Couldwork truly be an addiction?
His logical brain scoffed at the thought.
But the part of him that had been agitated and frustrated since coming to London recognized that there was truth in the idea.
Most days, he felt an almost overwhelming need to run, run, run. And without the endless tasks of a medical practice hanging over him—with all the normalcy of his life stripped away—it was easy to see how incessant the feeling was. How pervasive.
“It’s all right tae slow down. It’s all right tae allow life to be chaotic and messy for a wee while,” Kieran said, voice gentle. “It’s all right tae allow others to carry the burden of care. I ken that life has dealt ye hard blows, vicious memories that would take any man down.”
Alex swallowed, a tell-tale sting smarting in his eyes.
Blast Kieran and his unerring words.
“But I ken better than most that ye can only run so far and so fast.” Kieran’s eyes were too bright. “Eventually the pain of it allwillcatch ye. Ye’ve seen me at my worst. Dinnae allow yourself to land there, my friend. It’s a terrible pit to crawl out of.”
Silence for a moment.
Alex swallowed over and over. The pain of Ian’s death would always linger. He could never escape it.
His lips trembled until finally a harsh breath escaped him.
Once.
Twice.
Damn and blast.
This was why he worked so hard. Because when he stopped there was simply too much tofeel.
He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it to his face, allowing it to soak his grief.
He could sense Kieran’s eyes on him. No judgment. No pity.
Just the quiet understanding of a man who had already stared down the greatest pain life could hand him.
“Always trust ye to say a hard truth, Kieran,” Alex said, mopping his cheeks. “My injury and unplanned holiday from my medical practice has been illuminating. But none of this automatically assumes that I should become a marquess, marry a bonnie lass, and give up doctoring for the rest of my days.”
And yet, even as he said that, that very future opened up before him.
Lottie sitting with him before a fire such as this one.
