Page 55

I watch him closely, seeing the shadow of those years etched into the lines of his face, the depth in his eyes. “You came back different,” I say softly.

A wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Aye. But for the better, I think.”

I reach out and lay my hand on his shoulder—firm, steady, a promise without flourish. “If you ever find the weight of it to be too much and need someone to listen—or simply to sit in silence beside you—I’ll be here.”

His eyes hold mine, calm and steady. “Aren’t we doin’ just that?”

I study him for a breath longer, then let my lips curve into a small smile. “I suppose you’re right.”

My hand lingers for a heartbeat longer before I ease back, a playful smile tugging at my lips. “You are welcomed company, Finnis MacGregor,” I say lightly.

The comfortable quiet stretches until Finn speaks again, his tone thoughtful. “You huv’nae told me about boardin’ school,” he says, tilting his head as he looks at me. “How was it?”

I’m unsure how truthful to be. “It was… different, I suppose,” I begin, casting a glance in his direction. “Not like home.”

He waits for me to continue. His silence isn’t empty; it’s attentive, as though he’s giving me all the space I need to find my words.

“It was strange being there at first,” I admit, glancing out into the open space before us. “Everything felt so big, so polished. And I didn’t know anyone. It was just me, in this place, that felt far away from everything familiar.”

I look at him, and he frowns a little, his brow furrowing in that way it does when he’s deeply invested in what someone is saying. “Were you lonely?”

I nod, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. “Far more than I expected. Eventually I found companionship, routine. I even grew to enjoy aspects of it. But I always felt like an interloper. As though belonging was a performance I couldn’t quite master.”

He listens, truly listens, then replies simply, “Their loss was our gain.”

“Thanks, Finn,” I murmur, barely registering I’ve said it aloud.

He tilts his head, a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “For what?”

“For this,” I reply, gesturing to the space between us—to the quiet and the way he seems to know exactly what to say, even when I don’t quite know myself.

He gives me a small nod, his eyes holding mine a moment longer before he glances back up at the sky. “Anytime, Triona. I mean it.”

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest, his lips twitching with a familiar smirk and a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, arching a brow, though I’m already smiling.

He turns his gaze back to me, still grinning. “You know, ye’re a little too good at overseein’.”

“Oh?” I tease. “Flawless officiating, I’m sure.”

He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. His touch is brief, but it lingers—an echo across my skin. A thrill shoots down my spine, and though my cheeks warm, I hold his gaze, doing my best to mask the grin tugging at my lips.

“Flawlessly terrifying, more so.”

“Terrifying?” I scoff. “You’re just sore because I called you out. Maybe I ought to go easier on you next time—if you can’t handle the heat.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nae, wouldnae dream of it.” His gaze lingers on mine, and his grin fades, leaving an expression that’s far too sincere, far too real.

“But ye’re tougher than any of the men that played today. I’ll give you that,” he adds, his voice dropping to an indistinct murmur.

I huff a laugh, swatting at his shoulder. “I beat my brother once, and now you’re all acting as if I’m some fearsome supernatural being.”

A low, rasping chuckle escapes him as he catches my wrist before I can pull away. His thumb grazes the rapid beat at its centre. When his eyes lift to meet mine—shadowed, unreadable—my breath falters.

“I think it suits you,” he says, his tone soft, almost reverent as his eyes move over me in a slow caress. “Keepin’ us all in line.”

I wet my lips, and Finn clocks the movement instantly.