Page 115 of Scotch on the Rocks

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I wracked my brain for a way around it. “You could come with us, we’ll check in on my dad and come straight back.”

“No.” She made the decision for me, pushing me toward the car. “You know my presence will make things more complicated with Alistair. You need to go and be with your family, you’ll hate yourself if you don’t.”

Fuck, but she was right. Still, I hesitated, dropping my forehead to hers. “I’ll take my phone, keep me updated. Give it no more than an hour and if you haven’t found her, leave some food out and go inside to warm up.” I cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at me. “Promise me?”

“I promise.” Despite all her bluster, Juniper couldn’t lie for shit.

I kissed her deeply, dragging her bottom lip into my mouth. “I love you. Do you believe me?” If she didn’t believe I was coming straight back to her, there was no way I could force myself into that car.

“Aye.” Her smile was timid but real. My knees almost buckled at the relief of it.

Even with our audience, I kissed her again. I couldn’t help it. “When I get home, I expect to hear you say it back.” Another kiss. Slow and deep, to say I’d see her soon. “Be careful.”

* * *

“I think you like keeping me on my toes, Jim.” A sweet-sounding Lowlands voice sliced through the tense surgery room like bagpipes at a fucking funeral.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Dr Redford.” I climbed to my feet to shake hands with Dad’s usual doctor. She looked tired, her scrubs a little creased, her blonde hair beginning to slip from her top-knot. But her smile was as kind as ever. She possessed a rare gentle hand that managed to calm Dad.

“I volunteer every second Saturday.” She folded both hands around her clipboard as she glanced around the room. “A full house today.”

Heather was on her way with the girls. But every other Macabe had poured into two cars and currently took up most of the three-foot-square cubicle of the Isle of Skye Minor Injuries unit. The hour drive from Kinleith to Portree had passed in an agonising, knee-bouncing crawl, my thoughts spinning from Dad to Juniper then back again. I’d made Mal relay Alistair’s message, word for word, too many times to count, that Dad was okay, a little banged up, but conscious. I hadn’t truly believed it until I saw him with my own eyes, lying on the narrow bed, his hand clasped between Mum’s. Quiet, but alert, despite the long cut to his forehead. A nurse had looked him over initially but called a doctor to determine if he had a concussion and to stitch him up. That had been hours ago.

Dr Redford approached his side, giving Mum’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Looks like you’ve had an accident there, Jim. Line dancing again, were you?”

Dad didn’t answer and Alistair pushed to his feet, towering over the young doctor. “I’m able to stitch thewound myself if given access to a room and the necessary equipment.”

I scowled where I reclined against the wall. Alistair hadn’t spoken a single word to me, not that I exactly blamed him. Juniper was right … I’d let my jealousy get the better of me and behaved like an overbearing arsehole, all but knocking her over the head with my club and dragging her back to my cave. On top of that, I’d disrespected him as my brother. Aye, I didn’t believe he got a say in my relationship with Juniper, but he’d deserved a conversation – an explanation – at the very least. No wonder he’d punched me.

That didn’t mean he had the right to take out his frustration on the kind doctor. “Planning to stitch a wound with a broken hand?” I nodded to the swollen digits of his left hand, the skin already beginning to bruise. He’d fared far worse than I had. I’d have to teach him how to throw a decent punch once this was over.

Alistair scowled, tucking his hand into his jacket pocket as the doctor glanced between us like she expected a brawl.

The tension was starting to get to everyone. Mal couldn’t sit for more than a few minutes at a time and had taken to reorganising a jar of wrapped boiled sweets on the desk. April stood at his side, offering whispered suggestions on colour preference. The jar now ranked from purple through to red through to green. Even Mum – distracted as she was – had thrown worried glances between Alistair and me.

Dr Redford turned a saccharine sweet smile up at Alistair. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“I’mDrAlistair Macabe.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr Macabe. I’m Amy Redford and I’m in charge of this unit. You are very welcome to come through and watch me work. I could take a look at that hand too.”

Alistair frowned, then seemed to get the message that he was acting like a high-handed prick to this woman for no reason. Flushing, he cleared his throat and stepped back. “That won’t be necessary.”

Moving over to my parents, I dropped a kiss to the top of Mum’s head and brushed a hand over Dad’s shoulder, giving a light squeeze.

“We’ll wait here,” I promised them. Mum nodded mutely, her eyes locked on Dad as she followed him and Dr Redford from the room, like she could tether him to this lucid moment by sheer force of will. I couldn’t look away, but instead of Dad, I saw Juniper in that bed, forty-odd years from now. Would I make different decisions than my mum had? Or would I be clinging on just as tightly? The truth had me rubbing the headache building in my temples. “Fuck.”

“Language.” Heather’s hiss reached us before she even rounded the corner. Emily tucked on one hip, Ava barely awake, holding her mum’s hand. “There are children present.”

“Hey, peanut,” Mal said, obviously glad for something to do, scooping Ava into his arms, immediately settling her against his broad chest.

I used the moment of hugs and explanations to pull out my phone and check over my thread of messages to Juniper.

Have you found her?

Let me know you’re all right, at least.

Please, sweetheart.

---