That time was almost past.
The ground shifted beneath my feet as if I stood on the ferry instead of onshore.
“Dad?”
“All good,” I promised her because I was determined I would be.
“Dad, you didn’t say anything about the games.” Angus came running over, a deep frown furrowing his brow.
“The games?”
“It’s the Highland Games next week. I just saw a poster.”
“I know.”
Heather made a face at her brother. “Why do you think Dad was practicing with the band last night? He’s playing the end-of-games’ ceilidh.”
“Are you not competing?” My son looked confused.
The Highland Games had an entire event dedicated to pipe bands. However, the pipe bands that traveled onto Glenvulin to perform were three times our size or bigger. There was no competing against a full pipe band. “No, not this time.”
“Well, I suppose if you’re not playing, I’m not missing anything. But I do like it when they throw the massive logs. You should do that!”
Angus referred to the caber toss. “Pretty sure there’s an art to caber tossing.”
“Fine. Guess I’ll be okay missing it.”
I experienced that wee gnaw of regret that it wasn’t in my power to make sure Angus was here for the Highland Games.
After helping my kids on board with their luggage, I hugged and kissed them goodbye and walked back down the gangplank with a clenched jaw and an anguished gut.
It didn’t matter how many times I’d done this over the last two years, it was fucking brutal.
I waited for fifteen minutes for the rest of the passengers to board and for the ferry to leave. It had just pulled away from the harbor when I felt a nudge against my upper leg. Glancing down, I found Akiva, Ramsay’s Alaskan malamute, rubbing her face against me. She’d never been a particularly affectionate dog, however it seemed Tierney had not only softened Ramsay but Akiva too. I petted her furry head in thanks.
“I tried to get here before the kids left.”
I glanced over my shoulder to find Ramsay approaching.
McRae was a big guy, an inch or two taller than me, but so broad of shoulder he appeared taller. I supposed he was intimidating with his size and pale gray eyes that seemed to cut right through you. But I’d felt a kinship with him, and for whatever reason, he trusted me when he didn’t trust a soul. I was the only person on Glenvulin, other than Tierney, who knew Ramsay was an ex-operative for MI6.
It was difficult to wrap my head around the fact that one of my best friends was once an agent who’d gathered intelligence for the British Secret Service for fourteen years. He had some very scary enemies, which was why we didn’t share any photographs or footage of our pipe band. And any footage that showed up online “mysteriously” disappeared. Cammie had grown more and more suspicious about it, but Tierney had become good at deflecting the conversation anytime it came up.
Some might say he was being overly cautious, but then most people didn’t know a man from his past and a small group of mercenaries landed on his island last year with the intention of killing him and Tierney. He, and to my shock, Tierney, who was a crack shot, took care of the problem, but it brought it home to me that Ramsay was not being paranoid.
There was a real reason he’d changed his name and moved to the middle of nowhere.
I was more honored than ever knowing he trusted me with the truth.
Ramsay clapped my back as he approached. “Wanted to be here for you.”
“Better you weren’t.” I turned back to watch the ferry move farther away. “It’s embarrassing to watch a grown man cry.”
My friend grunted at my joke. “Cry all you want, mate.”
“It’s totally and utterly shite.”
“I know.” Ramsay crossed his arms over his chest. “But you don’t know what the future holds. One day they might come back forever.”
