Summer xxx
I run it through online spell-checks ten times. Send it to Lulu, who gives it a thumbs-up. I load it up in my Picturegram drafts, but I’m too scared to hit post. I pace up and down the room, scrolling mindlessly through my feed while I try to build up the courage.
I don’t know what I’ll do when my mum sees the article. She’llhateme.
“Summer.”
I spin. Alec is in the doorway. He’s dressed in business clothes—fancy slacks and a pressed blue shirt. His dark hair is slightly mussed, like he’s had his hands in it.
His expression is cold, and I die a bit inside. Did he hear me last night? Does he know what I did?
“I need to make a video call with a prospective buyer,” he says roughly, not looking me in the eye. “You’re slowing the streaming speeds. I understand you’re—” His eyes flick to my phone. On my screen, someone is twerking to a Doja Cat song.“I understand you’re working,” he says coolly. “But if you could stay off the Wi-Fi until I’m done, that would be helpful.”
Oh God. I’m interrupting vital farm work with my twerking videos. “Okay, sorry! I just need to post something real quick…” I stabposton my apology. “There. I’ll put my phone on airplane mode until you’re done.” I do it immediately and show him the screen.
He doesn’t respond. His eyes travel over me, taking in Cameron’s jumper. I smile, trying to look incredibly innocent and like I didn’t have my brain shagged out by his two best friends a few hours earlier.
“Thank you,” he says stiffly. “That’s kind of you.” He disappears again, and I flop back onto the bed.
He knows. He totally knows, and now he hates me, like everyone else. I look down at my phone. Normally, after I post something, I’m glued to it for hours, frantically watching the likes and comments roll in, but I guess I can’t today.
I hope the apology is enough. I’m so tired of this mess. My entire body is jittery with energy.
I take a deep breath and get up. I need a distraction, or I’m going to lose it. Hopefully, Fraser and Cameron won’t mind some company.
TWENTY-SEVEN
SUMMER
Ifind the two men surrounded by sheep in one of the east paddocks. Cameron is stooped next to a ewe, and Fraser is calling orders to Scout. The sheepdog is sweeping around the herd, trying to pull it into the centre of the field. I hang back, not sure if I should join them.
Fraser turns and sees me, and a brilliant grin spreads across his face. “London!” He waves me over. “Come join the chaos.”
I push open the gate and pick my way through the sheep. Fraser slings an arm around me, kissing the top of my head. “How nice of you to come visit us,” he murmurs into my hair. “You okay, baby? You look a bit nervy.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him.
Cameron straightens, eyeing me flatly. “Why are you here?” he demands. “You’ve never come to the fields before.”
“Just fancied some fresh air,” I say brightly, looking around me. “What’s going on?” The sheep seem a lot more rambunctious than usual. Several lambs are chasing each other, and quite a few appear to be trying to escape. “Everyone’s very…lively.”
Fraser laughs. “Aye, it’s the babies’ first time at pasture, so they’re losing their minds a wee bit.” He watches a couple of little black rams roll over each other in the grass. “Dafties.”
I look for Crumpet, but I can’t see her amidst the milling animals.
“Your wee one’s over there, hiding under her mum,” Cameron says, pointing to Viola happily chewing grass a few feet away. Crumpet peeks out from between Viola’s legs. She’s a third of the size of the other lambs.
I kneel down and smile at her. “I didn’t realise how tiny she was,” I say. “How’s she doing?”
“Not well,” Cameron says bluntly. “She’s barely eating, and Viola has the maternal instincts of a brick.” As I watch, Crumpet notices me and stumbles a few steps closer. Viola sticks out her face and shoves her to the ground. Crumpet stands up again determinedly, taking a few more steps. Again, Viola knocks her into the mud.
My chest hurts. “It’s like she hates her.”
“Aye,” Fraser says. “It’s a pity, really. Crumpet is a shy one, and she needs her mammy. We were hoping the change of scenery might mellow Viola out, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”
“So what happens now? Can you put her with another mother?”
“Nah, the ewe would just think Crumpet is trying to steal her milk. Trying out the paddock is usually a turning point. Hopefully, Viola will accept her. Worse-case scenario, she’ll become violent.”
