‘I know. God, I know.’ A tear slips and she swipes it away angrily. ‘Hannah asked if he was my Prince Charming. I told her princes are overrated. Dragons steal more treasure.’
I don’t think. Just reach for her. Haul her in. She stiffens – instinct, pride, that iron-willed Harrington armour – then melts, face buried in my neck. Her tears scald my skin. Her shoulders shake a little.
I hold her tighter.
Something’s happening, and I’m too far in to tell myself it’s just a passing thing. But fuck me if I know what to do with it.
‘She’d like you,’ she mumbles into my collarbone.
I trace my hand up her spine. ‘Doubt it. I’m shite at karaoke. But I’d love to meet her.’
Charlie pulls back, eyes red-rimmed and blazing. ‘You mean that?’
‘Aye. Can’t wait to be levelled by the two volcanic Harrington girls.’
She sniffles and giggles at the same time, then sits up. The moment breaks, just a fraction, and she’s already shifting gears, pulling herself back together.
But something in me doesn’t reset.
I brush my thumb over her cheekbone to catch the last trace of salt. She has no clue how close I am to slipping. How much of me she’s already taken without trying.
She stretches, shaking it off. ‘Right. We should get ready. It’s a long drive to Skye.’
Charlie’s back on her feet. Walls up again. But I’ve seen what’s underneath. Fine. She can pretend I didn’t get in. I won’t.
Chapter12
Charlie
The bridge to Skye rises ahead, a sleek arc over the steel-blue sea leading toward mist-dusted mountains. The road narrows as we climb, the guardrails disappearing into open sky. A good place to clear my head.
Not that it’s working.
Brodie’s driving, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the gearstick. He’s humming to the radio, utterly at ease. Every so often, he flicks me a glance, checking in without saying a word.
And I don’t know how to deal with it.
I don’t know how to deal withhim.
Somewhere between him holding my hair back while I puked out my dignity, going to that event alone, then coming straight back to take care of me – something seriously changed.
His hand grazes my knee every time he shifts gears, and I leave it right where it is, so he doesn’t miss it.
I thought I knew what I was getting with Brodie MacRae. Brutally ambitious. Obnoxiously cocky. Hot temper. Impossible to control.
But this? The patience. The quiet steadiness beneath all that bluster. The way he lets me be imperfect – not just allows it, but accepts it – like it’s not something I have to apologise for?
I’ve never had that.
Callum was nice. Or so I thought. I also thought I loved him. But with him, I think I was always performing to an extent. Always shaping myself into the right kind of girlfriend. Callum never… Callum preferred me polished. And for my father, I had to be the right kind of daughter, the right kind of businesswoman, the right kind of heir to his sports management empire.
Fucking exhausting is what it was.
Brodie doesn’t want a performance, and that’s a lot for a girl like me.
The real gut punch, though?
He said he wants to meet Hannah.
