But there was this stubborn piece of me that could not let the woman go.
Sometimes Isla would make a casual comment, a quick update on Taran. I never told her to stop. And it was like she knew that I needed to know. She never mentioned romanticrelationships, but she’d talk about Taran’s work with different charitable organizations. How proud she was of her.
I was proud of her too, even though I had no right to be.
Fuck, I missed the sound of her voice.
Perhaps one of the reasons I’d never let her go was because she’d never returned to the island. Any mention of it caused Laird’s mood to turn black with resentment.
Taran refusing to come back here … it made me think perhaps she couldn’t let go either and ironically, that made me hold on even tighter to the memory of her.
It was so messed up.
For my marriage, I knew I needed to try harder.
Yet here I was with the lads at band practice, and I couldn’t stop eyeing Laird’s phone. He’d left it by the kitchenette sink. We practiced in a semi-converted barn on my mum and stepdad’s farm. We liked it out here because we knew we weren’t disturbing anyone’s peace.
But Laird, Forde, and Murray were distracted, chatting about a difficult rescue Forde had made with the lifeboat service two nights ago.
Pulse racing, I swiped Laird’s phone before I could stop myself. Gaze flicking quickly between the guys and the phone, I guessed Laird’s code (1234, the daft bugger), and tapped on his contacts. Tugging out my own phone, my fingers moved quickly as I saved Taran’s number to my device.
My palms were sweaty by the time I put Laird’s phone down.
An hour later, we all left the barn to return to our homes. Instead of parking outside of mine, I stopped a couple of miles down theroad and switched off the engine. Guilt clenched my gut, but it didn’t stop me from hitting Taran’s name on my contacts.
I let out a shaky breath, trying to think of what I’d say. How I’d start this conversation after nine years.
How could it have been that long since I last saw her?
The line connected and it was her. Her soft, low voice. “Hello?”
I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out. I just … I just wanted her to talk again.
“Hello? Helloooo?”
My lips twitched at that, even as emotion wrapped a hand around my throat.
“Hey, whoever this is, I can hear you breathing.” Taran’s tone held an edge now and I winced.
“Taran, babe, just hang up on them. It’ll be a spam call,” a deep, male voice sounded in the background.
“Spam callers usually try to sell you something or try to get you to give over details. Hey?—”
“Who is this?” a guy now spoke in my ear. “Fuck off and don’t call my woman’s phone again.” He hung up.
His woman’s phone.
Of course Taran had someone.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. What was I doing?
I had a wife and daughter, and I was sitting in my car calling my childhood sweetheart on a number I’d stolen from her brother?
This was fucked.
Quickly, I deleted her number and threw my phone on the passenger seat.
Enough, I told myself.
