I don’t know how I’m going to leave Lochview.
I feel…different than when I first came here. In these wild hills, with these wild men who don’t expect me to pretend, I feel like the younger, brighter, sparklier version of myself that I once tried to bury is stirring. It’s a part of me who was once too soft and odd for the world, but might be just right up here.
And I think I could actually like her.
FIFTY-EIGHT
FRASER
Iwake up the next morning feeling bad. My thoughts are slow and loud, and my chest aches like there’s a weight on it. I force myself to roll over, reaching for Summer.
My fingers touch the cold sheet. I sit up, flicking on my bedside light.
My bed is empty. Outside, I can hear the wind whistling through the trees, rain hitting the windowpanes. Slowly, I pick up my phone and squint at the time. It’s almost nine. I’ve slept too long. Everyone else will be up. I should get up.
I let myself fall back onto the mattress. I’m too exhausted to move. I want to sleep all day. I want to close my eyes and ignore the world. I want to stop existing, just for a bit.
It’s been a while since I felt like this. When I was a teenager in uni, though, this grey feeling slowly seeped into my days until it had soaked through everything. I was surprised when I went to the university health centre, and the doctor doled out antidepressants. I wasn’t the kind of guy who got depressed. I was the fun one. I liked drinking and joking and flirting and making people feel good. It didn’t make sense that this feeling could also be a part of me.
It’s not even sadness, not really. Sadness isn’t a big enough word for it. Neither is emptiness. Or exhaustion. Or boredom. If I had to put a word on the feeling, I’d choosepain. Every cell of me just…hurts. I’m aching like I’ve just been run over by a bus, and I’m too tired to even peel myself off the pavement.
As I lie there, a memory flickers up. Me in bed in my student flat the summer I dropped out of uni. It was June, the month before exams, and the air in our building was syrupy and hot. I wasn’t studying. Wasn’t doing anything. I just lay there for days on end, listening to my flatmates argue and laugh and shag through the yellowing walls. My phone was constantly dinging with messages. I couldn’t move to check them.
It was one of those days that I wound up drinking a bottle of Tesco Value vodka and waking up in hospital, Alec standing over me. I still remember his kind smile as he told me to come home.
Everything was fine after that. These days, when this old feeling seeps back in, it’s never for long. It’s rare that it sticks.
But today feels sticky.
I lie there, staring blankly at Summer’s side of the bed.
How are we going to let her go? She has one week left at Lochview. And then we’ll never see her again. Once she’s gone, everything will go back to how it was before. The sun will go back in. Alec and Cameron will start fighting. I’ll have to work constantly to keep them from killing each other. The thought makes me feel physically sick.
No.
With Herculean effort, I roll out of bed. I need to talk to Cameron and Alec.
When I stomp into the main room, they’re both at the dinner table, poring over Alec’s laptop.
“Hey,” Alec says, glancing up as I head to the kitchen sink and fill a glass of water. “I was just about to wake you. We need to rejig our delivery plans. Looks like a bad storm will hit tonight.”
I chug the water and slam the glass down. “Where’s Summer?” I ask, looking around the shadowy room.
“Said she was taking an ‘everything shower’ an hour ago,” Cameron says. “I don’t know what that means. Doesn’t she normally wash everything?”
“Great.” I head to the bathroom. I can faintly hear the sound of out-of-tune singing over rushing water.
“She said not to join her,” Alec adds as I reach for the door handle. “Said, I quote, ‘I don’t want you guys seeing behind the curtain.’”
Cameron’s frown deepens. “Makes nosense. We’ve seen her naked before. What is she doing that we can’t see?”
The heaviness on my chest increases. “Right. Okay.” I wipe my hand over my face. “What were you saying? A storm’s coming?”
Alec nods. His face is pale. “Looks to be the worst one we’ll have all season,” he says. “It’ll hit tonight. And we still have three deliveries to make before then. We were meant to do them when we were in Inverness, but I put them off because…” He trails off. We all know why. Because of Summer’s impromptu day out.
I shrug. “We’ll take ’em down tomorrow. Bring Summer with us again.”
“We can’t wait until then,” Alec says. “The roads might close. You two will have to head out today before it hits. You’ll probably have to stay overnight in the city.”
