When I got my results back, Mum was furious. I remember her demanding a meeting with my school. My English teacher smiling at her mildly.
Some children just aren’t gifted in certain subjects, Mrs Faye. There’s nothing I can do about that. We gave her accommodations to help. All of her classmates managed fine. We can’tmakeher understand.
My stomach turns at the memory. Alec’s copy of the book is so worn it’s held together with tape. He’s reread it multiple times. He reads this kind of stuff for fun.
I’m not surprised. He’s obviously clever. Clever and driven and focused and work-oriented. Just like my mum.
I hear low voices coming from the kitchen. I’m about to go join the guys when something else on the bookshelf catches my eye. A faded photograph of the three men as children. They mustbe about eleven. All of them are in school uniforms—white shirts and grey shorts. Cameron is staring solemnly at the camera, a streak of mud on his face. Alec is smiling slightly, a book tucked under his arm. Fraser is flashing a peace sign. I couldn’t stop my smile if I tried.
Behind it, there’s one more photograph in a small silver frame. It’s tucked right into the corner of the shelf. Feeling like a sneaky little weasel, I edge it out.
It’s a picture of teenage Alec with a man I can only assume is his dad. He looks a lot like an older version of Alec, tall and handsome. But something about his expression sends a chill through me. He has cold shark eyes. His hand, clasped on Alec’s shoulder, looks tight enough to hurt. Alec isn’t smiling. There’s a blank look on his face, as if he’s not fully there.
There’s a sudden boom of Fraser’s laughter from the kitchen, and I quickly put the photo back. Nerves pluck inside me.
What happens now? Was last night a one-off? Will they go back to work and leave me be? I check myself out in the mirror. I’m a mess. My hair is a bird’s nest, and I have makeup smeared around my eyes. I try to make myself presentable and quickly give up. If I’m a mess, it’s their fault.
When I get to the kitchen, Cameron is at the stove cooking. Fraser and Alec are both at the table. Fraser is holding a wriggly Crumpet under one arm and feeding her with a bottle, and Alec is on the phone. He sounds angry.
“You don’t need to repeat the figures, Councillor,” he says as I pause in the doorway. “I’m not debating your numbers. I’m saying that your insistence on driving up our costs while every other farm in Scotland is receiving relief is clearly targeted. This is illegal, and I will take you to court if necessary.” He pauses. “Whatservices? You don’t even take the wheelie bins out. The locals fix their own potholes. I?—”
Crumpet notices me and bleats happily. Alec glances up. His face glosses over, like he doesn’t want me seeing him like this. “Fine,” he snaps. “I’ll be in touch with your supervisor.” He slams the phone onto the table.
“Hey,” I say awkwardly, hanging back. “Er, good morning. Everything okay?”
Fraser leans over the back of his chair and grins at me. “Morning, London. C’mere.” He settles Crumpet down. She headbutts my calf and skitters off towards the lounge. Fraser yanks me onto his jeaned leg, pulling me in for a rough kiss. “How are you feelin’?” he rumbles.
“Good,” I breathe. “I had a good night.”
He grins. “You are so cute.” His hand slides up my leg, big fingers pausing at the red marks sucked into my skin. “Well, well. Who did all this then?”
“Me,” Alec says, picking up his coffee mug.
“You did a beautiful job,” Fraser tells him, and Alec inclines his head. “You mark up real pretty, honey.”
“Um, thanks.” I wiggle off his lap and into the empty chair between him and Alec. At the stove, Cameron starts sliding food onto plates. “Hey, Cameron,” I say.
He comes over and sets a massive cooked breakfast in front of me. “Make her eat,” he mutters to Fraser.
“Shehas a name,” I point out. “And eyeballs. You can look at them, if you want.”
Cameron just grunts and heads back to the stove. But his hip intentionally nudges me, which I think is the equivalent of a good-morning kiss from Cameron. I smile to myself.
“How are you feeling?” Alec asks me.
“Great.” I nod at his phone. “What about you? That sounded tense.”
His mouth curls. “The local council is…making things difficult for me. They’re being intransigent.”
“I don’t know what that word means,” I admit.
“Inflexible. They’re not seeing reason. I’m not sure what they want me to do. I won’tbeg.”
“You did forme,” I tease, biting into my toast.
Alec raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And when was this?”
“Last night! You said”—I make my voice all low and dramatic—“‘please let me kiss you.’”
