And now she was gone. Who knew where? Thriving again in the poker world? Or lonely, like him, longing to wake up together again.
Sean shoved his phone back in his pocket. He was breaking his own race rules thinking like this.
‘You’re awful quiet, Seany,’ said Eilidh. ‘Not tired already?’
‘What, because I’ve not spoken in three minutes, I must be tired?’
‘Yes.’
The rest of his siblings laughed.
‘Don’t worry about me. I’m conserving my energy for the next seventy miles.’ Sean wrapped a slice of millionaire’s shortbread in a napkin and stuck it in his pocket. ‘You should all do the same.’
‘Nice energy boost strategy,’ said Niall. ‘Don’t talk. Stockpile shortbread.’
‘Aye, I’m sure I heard Sir Chris Hoy say that once.’
For all its faults, the coffee had touchedthe edges and given Sean a small lift. Combined with the morning sun edging the rain off its patch, his mood improved as they set off again, up into the hills, rising to Carradale, where you could see the rugged volcanic dome of Ailsa Craig rising proud in the sea.
For some reason – not that he needed a prompt – Ailsa Craig brought Cherry to mind. A solitary, strong, fearless presence.
Fuck it! After the race, he’d get in touch with her. He needed her. Missed her. He loved her. That was the truth. If he’d told her that, she might have stayed instead of needing to venture out to find her certainty. He’d claimed to have given her everything, yet he’d held those words back, needing to know she wasn’t leaving him.
Before fucking her against the wall.
What an arse.
But the future could be bright. Right?
A packed lunch and more coffee, forty-six miles in – nearly halfway there. Energy levels were where they should be, and they boosted each other’s spirits. It would power them along the twenty-two miles of craggy shores to Campbeltown, past more castles, woods and lochs and onto the curved, golden shores of Dunaverty.
‘Hard to believe a massacre happened here, eh?’ Jamie swept his hand across the beach over to the grey crags of Blood Rock, like an enthusiastic history teacher at the end of a very long school day.
‘My legs feel like they’ve been massacred,’ Cara groaned.
Sean was with Cara on this one. Normally full of boundless energy, he was so ready for this to be over, to see the bright lights of Kinshore on the horizon. To get home, fall into a bath and text Cherry.
But it was as they were leaving Southend and barrelling down to the southernmost point of Kintyre, the landscape wild and unsheltered, golden eagles wheeling ominously above, that Sean wondered if the bright lights were happening already.
A glare caught the edges of his vision.
What was that? He shook his head but continued pedalling.
Then there was a sensation of the ground being further away than before. Sean blinked hard, puffed out a sharp breath or two and adjusted his hold on the handlebars.
Focus, Seany.
‘You alright, bro?’ Nate sounded more serious than usual.
‘Aye, aye, fine. Just a fly.’
But the strangeness swept in again, and this time there was no mistaking it for dizziness. Sean gripped the handlebars, noticing distinctly the fading tan mark where his wedding ring had been. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Strange, as he’d been taking it easy. Was he dehydrated? Coffee wasn’t great for hydration, and he’d had a fair few cups today. He reached for his water bottle.
But there was no time to drink. It all happened in a split second as the gleam of afternoon sunlight cut across his eyes, and his vision spun again.
This time, his balance faltered and the front wheel of his bike caught the edge of gravel where it sliced into slippy, wet mud.
Underneath Sean, the bike twisted, front wheel first, and he was falling – off the road and down into the ditch – the sound of Eilidh calling his name the last thing he heard before he hit the ground.
