“They sound like good people.”
“They are.”
A pause. A rabbit hops across the grass.
“My dad left too.”
“Aye?”
“Cheated on my mum, left her for another woman. My mum, she was heartbroken. Devasted. I’d never seen her like that before. And now, me and my dad, well, we still talk, but it’s never been the same. He’s not one for feelings, but we catch up about the weather, the news, that sort of thing. Once a year he sends me a birthday card. Sophie, my sister, throws hers in the bin. She cut him out of her life for what he did. Didn’t even invite him to the wedding.” I realise how close I’ve drifted to Angus, close enough that if he wants to, he can reach down and kiss me without taking a step. I flush. “Gosh. Sorry.” I flap my hands at my face, trying to calm myself down, and stumble backwards. “Look at me rambling on at you. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. It’s not like you asked.” I turn on my heel and stride towards my tent, determined to put as much space between us as possible, step after mortifying step. “Anyway, I should go to bed. Sorry again!”
“London,” Angus calls after me, his voice rumbling through the night.
“Yes?” I pause, despite myself.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For telling me.” His eyes glint in the moonlight. “And for asking.” Then he ducks back towards his own tent. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
After Angus closes the zipper, I linger outside and tip my head back in the wind. An infinity of stars whirls overhead.For a while I watch them, their winking lights, so far above us. Eventually, I crawl into my sleeping bag and fall asleep, dreaming of a soft Scottish brogue.
Chapter Fifteen
Angus
We wave at Ewan through the window as the bus pulls away.
Poor lad woke in agony, and even the combination of some serious painkillers, Lila’s compression bandage, and my shoulder weren’t enough to ease it. He limped along for less than five minutes before calling it, sweating and shaking, and we turned away from the rocky path and towards the road.
“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Rowan asks, nibbling on her lower lip.
I don’t look at her. I’ve already memorised the flush in her cheeks from the brisk morning wind, the way the sun makes the blue in her eyes shimmer like crystals, and the smattering of freckles crossing her nose like a gust of autumn leaves. If I let my eyes catch hers, I’ll get that awful rush of warmth in my chest and want to do something stupid like take her hand.
I cannot allow myself to take her hand.
Last night, all I could think about was kissing her. How soft her lips would feel on mine. What she’d taste like. I’m treading on dangerous ground. I’ve made myself a promise: no attachments. And I don’t intend to break it.
Especially not for the sister of the bride I’ve staked my farm’s success on.
No. Rowan is a city girl. Like my Ma, she isn’t meant for the country life. When the hike and the wedding are over, she’ll go back to where she is happiest. And I’ll be alone.
The way I’m meant to be.
But maybe, a treacherous part of my brain suggests, maybe today I can allow myself to walk beside her. That’s harmless enough, isn’t it? That’s the kind of thing a friend might do.
“Hello! Earth to Angus!”
I snap back to the present. “He’ll be fine,” I say. “Ewan’s a good lad. And it’s better if he stops now, before he really hurts himself.”
“I keep thinking about his poor friend. All that guilt he’s carrying around.” Rowan hugs herself tight.
“There’s always next year.” I try to sound comforting. “The walk will still be here.”
“You’re right, you’re right. He’ll be fine.” But her tone says otherwise, and when I glance at her, her mouth is curled in a frown.
