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She looks different this morning. Her usual sparkle is missing. She’s pale and washed out.

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “We agreed I’d work on Saturday to get the job done quicker. Don’t you remember?”

“Aye, I do.” She hugs herself awkwardly, looking everywhere but at me. “But I thought . . .”

I know exactly what she thought—that last night changed things. That I wouldn’t show up today because of what happened in the woods. But this is a job. This is how I pay my bills now.

“Well, I’m here.” I step past her into the flat. “Might as well crack on.”

“Actually, could we maybe not do this today? I’m not feeling great.”

I turn back and hold her gaze, observing the regret swimming behind her eyes. “Look, I know this is about last night. It’s like I’ve been telling you all along: I’m here to work. If we cancel today, it’ll just be awkward on Monday, so why don’t we get the awkwardness over with now, eh?”

She nods slowly, then her face crumples and she bursts into tears.

Shite. This is . . . new. I’ve had women get clingy after a hook-up. I’ve had them get angry when I made it clear it was just a one-time thing. But tears? Full-on sobbing? This is uncharted territory.

“Cat . . .” I rub the back of my neck, completely out of my depth here. “Come on now. You don’t have to cry.”

She tries to swipe the tears away with the back of her hand, but they keep coming—fat drops rolling down her cheeks no matter how she tries to hold them back.

“I’m s-sorry,” she chokes out.

God, what the hell do I do now? I don’t know the first thing about comforting someone who’s upset. It’s not like it’s a skill I learnt from my maw—she was hardly the epitome of maternal warmth. I can’t remember the last time I even heard from the woman. Hasn’t so much as sent a birthday card in years.

My first instinct is to leave. I’ve got enough on my plate without adding emotional support to the list. The police could show up at my door any day now with a warrant for my arrest. I don’t need this.

But something stops me from walking right out. Maybe it’s because Cat listened to me the other day when I needed someone to talk to. Or maybe I’m just not as much of a heartless bastard as I pretend. After all, I suppose there were times, when Johnny and I were lads, that I’d comfort him if he was upset. But . . . that was years ago. And anyway, this? A grown woman in tears? That’s an entirely different beast. Right?

“Come on.” Awkwardly I place a hand on her back and guide her through to the kitchen. “Sit down. I’ll, er, make tea, okay?”

She doesn’t protest, which I take as a yes. Good. I can manage tea. It’s just hot water and a bag. But the kettle’s hum doesn’t entirely cover her sniffling. Christ, what the hell have I got myself into?

Once the tea is ready, I hand Cat a mug then lower myself into the chair across from her. A bit late, I say, “Er, is it okay if I sit?”

Part of me hopes she’ll give me an out and say she’d rather be alone. But she nods and wraps both hands around the mug like she’s trying to draw every bit of warmth from it.

All right, now what? I’ve no idea what to say next. The silence stretches, broken only by the occasional hiccup or sniff from Cat.

“Honestly,” I say eventually, largely just to break the tension, “your family and breakdowns recently.”

Cat looks up, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “What does that mean?”

I take a sip of my tea. “Well, about a month and a half ago, I ran into Jamie on the old stone bridge. It was pissing down, and he was just standing there in the rain, getting soaked through. He looked like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.”

“Jamie?” Cat’s nose crinkles as if I’ve just short-circuited her brain. “As in, my brother Jamie?”

“Aye. Things weren’t going well between him and Maisie at the time. He and I had a bit of a heart-to-heart, if you can believe it.”

“Wow.” Cat wipes at her eyes. “I . . . had no idea. Jamie’s always acted the clown. Hell, even when he finished that hill race without his kilt, and with his arse—and everything else—out for all of Bannock to see, it was all jokes and laughs. It’s stupid, but I suppose I forget he has hidden depths under all that daftness.” She gives a watery smile. “As families go, we’re close. We really are. But I suppose everyone’s got bits of themselves they keep tucked away.”

I take another sip of tea then say, “So, you going to tell me what this is about?”

Cat draws a shaky breath. “Last night I had this really vivid dream. It was me, my brothers, and my parents at Loch Bannock. We used to have picnics there in the summer.” Her voice wavers. “It felt so real, you know? When I woke up, I missed them so much it physically hurt. Then you showed up at the door, and it all just became a bit much. Because you were the one who . . .”

She trails off, but she doesn’t need to finish. I know exactly what she means. I was the one who came across the crash. Who saw her parents dead in their car. Who called the ambulance for Jamie.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Cat says quickly. “And . . . I want you to know this has nothing to do with last night.” Her cheeks flush. “The dreams . . . they come when they come, and when they do, they knock me for six every time.”