“She’s right, though. I was going to suggest a tickle fight to exert dominance. Her advice was much better.”
Juniper held my gaze, a warning in her eyes that I understood. “If you’re absolutely certain that you want this life with them, here on Skye, get on your knees and fucking beg her to be with you. Then keep on begging every day for the rest of your life. And if you’re not? Sell the surgery and let her go, because they both deserve better.”
“They will always deserve better.”
“Cut that shit out too. Whatever this thing is that makes you hate yourself so much, let it go before it ruins the rest of your life,” she said. “And definitely let that shit go if it hasanything to do with me, because I’m over it.” Her fingers linked with Callum’s. Point made.
I cleared my throat. “What about the surgery? I haven’t proved that I—”Was capable of it. Deserved it.
“To who?” Callum asked, glancing around the room as though the ghost of Jim Macabe might be perched at the kitchen counter. “Maybe Dad did leave you the surgery as one final opportunity to make you feel small. Or maybe it’s because it was his life’s work and there’s no one else he’d entrust it to. You’ll never know.” He released Juniper’s hand, and crouched down in front of me, gripping the sides of my face like he did when we were wee. I was slightly taller than him now, but it still had the same calming effect. “I might not know why, but I doknow you were miserable in Glasgow. Those first few months you were home . . . it’s like your soul had been sucked right out of you. Who gives a fuck why Dad left you the surgery, if it makes you happy?”
It sounded so simple when he put it like that.
Could I really stay? Put all this shit with my dad aside and try to be the man Isla and Teddy deserved? Run Kinleith Surgery with the same care he had? For the rest of my life?
I wanted that. The realisation came in a slow, dragging pulse.
Working at the surgery every day and coming home to the cottage every night.
Not my cottage, with its dark windows and the moving boxes still lining the walls. But the one next door. Where the air always smelled like apple and cinnamon.
I’d kiss Isla the moment I stepped through the door. Kiss her until Teddy made a gagging sound, then we’d sprawl out on the rug to build Lego.
We could hang pictures on the walls.
Fill the cupboards with food.
Drag in a freshly cut tree every Christmas and stuff it with multi-coloured lights and enough ornaments to make the branches bend.
Then in the summer, Isla and I could sneak out into the garden once Teddy was asleep, lie out on a blanket and watch the stars. Dig our bare feet into the dry soil because we weren’tevermoving.
I could see that version of the future clearly in my mind.
I wanted it. So badly.
But wanting and doing were two very different things. And the problem was . . . I needed to trust myself.
Needed to be sure I could be happy here long-term.
My feelings for Isla were real, but we were also wrapped in that exciting little bubble that came with a new relationship. If it burst a year or two down the road, I’d hurt them both.
I cleared my throat, holding back the urge to run to Isla and make that future happen right now. “I need some time. To think it all through.”
“You should talk to her,” Callum said again. “And soon. I actually like having my wee brother home.”
28
Isla
Voicemail: Good afternoon, Miss Lang. This is Linda calling from Kinleith Primary school. I’m just confirming receipt of payment for Theodora for September’s Loch Ness trip. Thank you, and please don’t hesitate to get in touch with any questions.
Isla: Just got a call from the school to say Teddy’s deposit was paid. Thank you for making this work, Cameron, Teddy is so excited.
“Your phone actually works, then?”
“Oh!” I jumped as a voice suddenly appeared at my side. “Shit, Heather, you scared me.”
“Sorry, thought you heard me.” She slumped beside me on the park bench with a sigh, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head.
