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He doesn’t need to finish. I know what he’s thinking, what he doesn’t say aloud.

We were both raised to carry what others couldn’t. To be unflinching, unshaken. There’s little room for softness in the shape we were forced to take. It hollows you out over time. And he’s been carrying too much, alone.

I place a hand on his shoulder, grounding him in the way only he and I understand.

“Ye never needed to doubt,” I say, my voice quiet but certain. “I’d have come, Callan. Always.”

His lips press into a faint line, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting mine again. The tension in his shoulders eases, though the gratitude in his expression is something I doubt he’ll ever put into words.

“Aye,” he finally says, giving a small nod. “Good.”

It’s a simple word, but it carries more than it seems, and as he steps back, I feel the unspoken bond between us as strong as ever. A tether that runs deeper than blood. It’s a connection forged in silence—in the heavy spaces where burdens are borne without complaint.

Beneath Callan’s steady gaze, I sense the stirring of unrest—a shadow that has yet to take shape. There are questions in him, tangled and unsaid, and though he hides them well, I know their weight.

He needs someone beside him—not to lift the burden entirely, but to remind him he is not alone beneath it.

And when he’s ready—when the silence breaks and the words finally come—I’ll be here. He’s never been one to speak before the time is right. And I?

I’ve always known how to wait.

“Right then,” Callan says, nodding toward the familiar stretch of land behind the farmhouse. His tone softens, the edges of his usual gruffness smoothing into something almost wistful. “She’ll be glad to see ye,” he murmurs, as though speaking more to himself than to me.

As he steps back to give me space, memories of Triona flood my senses, as vivid as if she stood beside me. I can almost feel her there, our shoulders brushing as she catches me up on the last three years of life—three years spent without me—her voice weaving stories that linger long after the words fade.

“Ye ken how she is. She’ll get bent outta shape if she finds out ye didnae see her the moment yer foot stepped onto solid ground.” I nod in acknowledgment, though words fail me.

Callan claps a hand on my shoulder, his voice low. “She’s out at the cliffs. Casey said her and Ma got in quite the row. Said it looked like she’d been holdin’ back tears, but she’s not the type to let ‘em fall where folk can see.”

I nod again, and my chest constricts as my gaze follows his—toward the worn path I know by heart, the one that winds through grass and wind and salt air until it reaches the sea.

Every nerve thrums. The steady beat of my heart begins to rise, louder now, pulsing with something I wish I could ignore.

Because beneath the anticipation, beneath the ache to see her again, there’s something else—something darker.

Guilt flickers through me, sharp and unwelcome. I shouldn’t feel this way. Not about her. Not when she’s always been Callan’s little sister… and one of my greatest friends, in every way that’s meant to matter.

But no amount of reason or restraint has loosened her hold on me. Not time. Not distance. Not blood that was never truly shared.

I take a breath, long and steady, trying to brace myself, not just for the moment I’ll see her again, but for whatever stirs inside of me when I do.

I realise, as I watch her from a distance, that the moment I dreaded isn’t dreadful at all. There’s a strange sort of peace in seeing her again.

No other woman could ever hope to compare to the allure that she possesses. She’s become the measure I never meant to make, the standard by which all others fall short. It’s not fair to them—and it’s not her fault—but it’s the truth.

Her absence carved something into me, a hollow space that no one else has filled. But even in that emptiness, I grew. The ache of missing her shaped me, forced me to become a man worthy of more.

She’ll likely never know that. Never see the way her memory has steadied me, how the thought of her lit a path when everything else went dark.

But I know. And somehow, that’s enough.

As I draw closer, I can see a great tension in her shoulders, the heaviness that weighs her down. I want to say something, but the moment feels too delicate to break with words. Instead, I step up behind her and gently place my hands over her eyes.

She gasps, which slowly turns into a chuckle that I can feel hum through my body. “Cal… or Casey?” She quiets as she runs a hand over my calloused knuckles. “Three seconds and I’ll know, so enjoy the mystery while you can.” She laughs, light and teasing, and a smile tugs at my lips.

I let my voice slip into the quiet between us. “Miss me, Little Doe?”

She stills, her whole body freezing as though the world has paused around her. I watch eagerly as she turns, her movements laced with disbelief and awe. Her gaze lifts, and for a heartbeat I can see so much there—surprise, relief, and a light that banishes the shadows that are haunting her.