A little like Isla Lang, if I was being honest. They were probably card-carrying members of theI’ll just phone you, it’ll be easierclub.
“And how do I do that?” I’d never really put much thought into whether peoplelikedme. I wanted people to respect me, that had always been enough.
She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Be a little less . . .you.” I heard Mal choke. “Ilike you,” she assured me. “But I’m in love with a grumbly bear of a man, so my tolerance for occasional arseholery is a little higher than most.”
“Harsh,” Mal said, at the exact same time I asked, “You think I’m an arsehole?” An accurate assumption, but I had to admit it stung. Just a little. To have it confirmed that my family also saw the very worst of me.
“Not to me,” she replied delicately. “But you can be a little . . . caustic.”
I scowled. “That’s code for arsehole.”
“I’m just saying, you’re not exactly . . .mellow.” Her eyes flicked to my freshly ironed shirt, to the smudge of grease I already knew stained the collar from the whisky crates. It made me calculate if I had time to go home and change before heading to the surgery. “And that’s fine, if that’s who you are.”
“Try to appear more mellow, got it. What else?”
“You should probably pay a therapist for this,” she said.
“I’m asking you.”
“Fine. You can be a little . . . self-involved.”
I came to a dead stop. So did she. “Everyone is self-involved.” It was the greatest plague upon mankind.
“Duncan from the hardware store literally said hello a few minutes ago and you completely ignored him.”
“He did?” I glanced over my shoulder toward the bright-blue hardware store, as though he might still be there.
“Aye, he did,” Mal confirmed.
“He must have said it too quietly then.”
April’s smile was pitying. So was the pat on my shoulder. “This task might be too big for my skills alone. You should ask Callum; he makes sweet-talking an art form.”
“I’m not asking Callum,” I said quietly, continuing up the street.
An awkward silence hung between the three of us. It felt like an eternity. I was grateful when Mal finally ended it. “You could join the shinty team.”
“Or enter the Cairn & Crust pie-baking contest,” April suggested, pointing to a Summer Fair flyer taped to a shopfront window. “It would be the perfect display of personal growth.”
Join us for Skye’s most competitive baking contest. Stay for crafts, food and face-painting fun. “I’d rather schedule an enema.”
Mal laughed at least. April kept talking. “Oh, I know what you should do! Get a live-in girlfriend, like Richard Gere, someone who canPretty Womanyou. That’s way more fun—” Her words were cut off by a sharp bark. Still ahead of us, Boy’s tail entered helicopter mode as he gave chase to a swooping seagull he had zero chance of catching.
“Boy! Come back, buddy!” Mal strode after him. The wrong move. Boy barked excitedly, mistaking Mal’s shout as playful. Tongue flopping, he spun in a circle then barrelled forward on his too-long legs with a carefreeyip.
“Oh my god,” April gasped, watching Boy race into the road. “Look out!”
My head whipped down the street. Time seemed to slow. Too focused on the seagull, Boy didn’t see the camper van taking the corner onto the high street too quickly, completely missing thePedestrians onlysign.
Mal bellowed a warning. April screamed, the sound muffled by the music blaring from the camper van’s open windows. The driver turned, laughing at something the girl in the passenger seat said.
Over the thud of my heart, I became aware of pounding footsteps, a shoulder jostling mine as someone barrelled past me, the end of a blonde braid I’d know anywhere because I spied it out my front window every morning.
What the fuck was she doing?
The ground seemed to tilt, my entire body turning numb. Logically, I knew it was adrenaline. Blood vessels constricting as fight-or-flight instinct set in. But I couldn’t explain it . . . I was trained for emergencies. I’d learned how to press emotions flat, steady my hands and do what needed to be done. Right then, all I could do was stand and watch as Isla raced into the road after Boy.
Through the camper van windscreen, I watched the passenger’s eyes widen and her mouth move. Shouting a warning to the driver.
