My kids whisper-arguing was still loud enough to filter upstairs.
That’s when the smell of bacon hit my nostrils and my stomach grumbled in appreciation.
Last night came back in a flood, and with it the memory of getting into bed with Taran. I turned my head on my pillow and saw the space beside me was empty. Assuming she was downstairs, I sat up, scrubbing a hand over my face. My beard needed a trim.
Limbs heavy, I reluctantly got up and headed into the bathroom to relieve myself and freshen up.
It was too late for Cammie to go home last night, so she’d stayed in my guest room while the kids returned to their respective rooms. I asked Taran to sleep beside me. No funny business. I just wanted to hold her.
She’d quietly complied, but I could sense turmoil emanating from her.
The only thing that stopped me from feeling like absolute shit for putting everyone through last night was knowing we’d saved lives.
Shrugging on pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, I wandered downstairs, following the smell of breakfast into the kitchen. Sure enough, Cammie was at the stove cooking while the kids sat at the island, bickering about who knew what.
“Dad!” Angus hopped off the stool, almost face-planting.
My heart stopped for a second, but my boy caught himself and then threw his whole body at me.
I grunted, wincing as he hit my bruised hip.
“Angus, watch you don’t hurt Dad!” Heather cried indignantly.
“I’m all right, bud.” I bent to kiss the top of his head. His hair was damp and smelled of his shampoo, so Cammie must have already gotten him to shower. “What time is it?” I kept him close as we moved toward the island.
“It’s nearly noon.” Cammie waved a spatula at me. “Full Scottish breakfast for a full Scottish hero?”
I smirked, abashed. “I wouldn’t say no. Thanks.” I looked at Heather and then beyond her to the empty living room. “Where’s Taran?”
Heather’s expression fell and she lowered her eyes to the cup of tea in front of her.
Cammie met my gaze head-on, a frown appearing between her brows. “She left this morning. Said to tell you she needed to check on London.”
Disappointment was chased with a flickering sense of dread.
Last night Taran had barely spoken as we got into my bed. There was a brittleness to her that I’d put down to her worry for me and confusion over where things stood between us.
Remembering that haunted look on her face, however, I worried now that I’d read her wrong.
I’d felt a change in the wind, but perhaps it wasn’t for the better after all.
Call it intuition, call it this connection Taran and I had shared since we were children—a bond that seemed so otherworldly, like it snapped into place between us the moment Taran was born … I found myself releasing Angus and moving to the sideboard where I’d put my phone on charge before heading to bed.
Tapping on the screen, sure enough, there were several texts from Taran.
My heart started to pound as I swiped to open them.
I’m sorry for not being brave enough to do this face-to-face.
I know you’ll try to fight me on it, and I don’t want to put us through that.
I’m so happy you’re okay, Quinn.
But I can’t do this anymore. We’re over. For good. I’m sorry.
“Fuck!” I launched the phone across the room, and it hit the sofa with a thud.
“Dad!” Heather cried.
