Page 112 of Of Heather and Thistle
Byrdie chirped again, louder this time, her little nose twitching in accusation. Heather turned fully onto her side, propping her head on her hand as she watched the silent standoff. “I think she’s mad you took her spot.”
Flynn exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand down his face. “You mean the spot on the bed she lets you borrow?”
“Exactly. I’m just the tenant here.” She grinned.
Byrdie made her point clear by hopping onto the bed and landing directly on Flynn’s chest with surprising force for such a small creature. Flynn let out an exaggerated grunt. “Och, are ye serious?”
Byrdie, completely unbothered, circled twice before sittingsquarely on his sternum, her fluffy tail curling around her paws. Her glare was unwavering as if assessing whether or not he deserved to stay. Heather laughed as Flynn sighed in defeat, dropping his head back against the pillow. “This is it, isn’t it? I’ve lost.”
“I hate to break it to you, but she outranks you,” Heather teased, reaching out to scratch behind Byrdie’s ear. Byrdie purred a deep, smug rumble but didn’t move from her perch.
“Traitorous wee beastie.” Flynn opened one eye, shooting Heather a look. “Let me get this straight. I’ve had to work foryourtrust for weeks, and the cat’s already got a throne?”
Heather shrugged. “She’s been here longer.” Flynn exhaled dramatically, giving Byrdie a pointed look. “Fine, lass. We’ll negotiate terms.”
Byrdie blinked slowly as if considering the offer, then stretched luxuriously before hopping off Flynn’s chest and onto the empty pillow beside Heather, nestling into it as though she had allowed this arrangement to continue.
Flynn groaned. “So I’m allowed to stay, then?” Heather smirked. “Seems like it. Consider yourself lucky.” Flynn rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “Aye, I do.” His voice had softened, and her stomach flipped when Heather met his gaze.
He wasn’t just talking about Byrdie anymore.
Heather swallowed, her fingers grazing absently over the edge of the blanket. There was something about this moment—the warmth, the ease of it—that made her chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with fear. Flynn reached out, tucking a stray curl behind her ear before trailing his fingers lightly down her arm. “I like waking up with you,” he admitted, quiet and unguarded.
Heather’s breath caught. She wanted to say something, but the words tangled in her throat. Byrdie chose that moment to roll onto her back, stretching luxuriously before letting out a tiny snore.
Heather huffed out a laugh, breaking the tension. “Looks like you’re stuck with both of us.”
Flynn grinned, his hand still resting against her arm. “Aye, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
Heather tilted her head. “You sure you’re up for it?”
His fingers slid down to her hand, lacing them together. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, lass.”
Heather’s heart stuttered, but she didn’t pull away this time. She squeezed his hand back, and for once didn’t feel so lost.
Chapter 34
She wasn’t ready to make a decision—but she wasn’t prepared to leave either. So, she settled in. For now.
Mornings at Glenoran started slow, with Byrdie curling up at the foot of her new king-sized bed as if she belonged there, her snores filling the quiet room. The primary suite was something out of a dream, a space Flynn had built with his hands. Expansive bay windows overlooked the misty moors, and the whirlpool tub—that glorious whirlpool tub—quickly became her sanctuary. But it wasn’t just the suite that felt different. The entire house had changed.
When she first arrived, Glenoran had felt like a tomb—hollow, haunted by time and loss, its grand rooms filled with shadows and whispers of the past. The walls had creaked beneath the weight of history, and every darkened hallway had felt like a reminder of all the things she’d lost. She had tiptoed through its halls like a stranger, like she didn’t belong, like she was just passing through.
Now, warmth had seeped into the very bones of the place. The once-drafty corridors no longer felt cavernous but cozy, touched by the scent of fresh wood and the soft glow of light filtering through restored windows. The hearth in the sitting room crackled each evening, filling the space with golden light—not a relic of the past, but a steady, welcoming presence. The kitchen—where she had once stood feeling out of place—had become a second home, a place where she and Flynn made tea in the evenings, where Byrdie perched on the counter like a queen overseeing her domain.
Heather had never lived anywhere quite like this. Evenings were spent unpacking—truly unpacking, not just living out of suitcases, not just existing in a place, but making it her own.
She found little ways to claim the space: a vase of fresh wildflowers on the windowsill, a stack of well-loved books beside the bed, one of her mother’s old sweaters draped over the chair in the corner. There was a candle on the nightstand that smelled like cedar and rain, a fuzzy throw blanket on the couch, and boots left by the front door—not because she was visiting but because she belonged here. Glenoran had been lost and forgotten once. So had she.
But now, both of them had beenrestored.
Flynn had stopped raising his brows when he found her curled up on the massive bed, wrapped in blankets, Byrdie tucked beside her. He smirked, muttered something about her “settlin’ in nicely,” and kissed her before heading downstairs. Heather ignored how her heart twisted whenever he said things like that. She wasn’t staying. And she wasn’t going either.
She sat on the edge of the bed, the soft morning lightspilling through the bay windows. Byrdie stretched beside her, flicking her tail lazily, but Heather barely noticed. Her phone was in her hand. Ivy’s name was on the screen. For a long time, she just stared at it.
Ivy had called her months ago, voice dripping with regret, with nostalgia, with all the little hooks that made Heather believe—just for a second—that maybe, maybe they could go back to the way things were. But now? After everything? She wasn’t that girl anymore. Heather took a deep breath and hit call. Ivy answered on the second ring, her voice bright, effortless.
“Well, well. Look who finally remembered I exist.”
