Chapter 16

16

I t’s been almost a week since I’ve seen the guys. Jack is making one final push before the baby is born and needs all hands on deck, which means I'm alone in the pub every night after spending my mornings planning Charlie's baby shower. Despite staying busy, I find myself constantly thinking of them.

When I arrive at the pub Saturday afternoon, a man who looks to be in his late forties introduces himself as Patrick and tells me he's taking over for me, and I have until opening to show him the ropes. My stomach roils and it feels like I’m going to be sick. I send a frantic group text to the guys, but they only assure me that he’s competent and that the pub will be in good hands. I gape at the words on the screen. This isn’t part of the deal. I’m training them to take over, not some random guy who will mess everything up. Why the fuck did they think this would be okay?

"You don't need to worry," Patrick says, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiles. "I promise I'll take good care of her."

"Where–How–When–" I groan, scrubbing my hands over my face. Why hadn't they asked me first? Because I don't fucking own the pub anymore, that's why.

"To answer your questions, I was a bartender at the Balmoral before I moved to Harris for some peace and quiet. I quickly found there's such a thing as too much downtime, so I put an ad online. Theo saw it and got in touch last week."

"The Balmoral?" I gape at him. "And now you want to work here ?" That’s the downgrade of the century. I look at him more closely. "Why do you look familiar?"

"I've been coming in every week for months, Isla. I have big shoes to fill.”

I snort. "I guess I should be thankful I can finally move on. I just didn't think it would happen so fast."

The tears start the second I get in my car. I drive past the Manor House, parking by the barn, and enter the castle through the old servants' door. The stairs to the top of the west turret are brutal, but I welcome the pain in my lungs because it helps block out everything else. I throw my shoulder against the ancient wood door and squeeze through the opening. The battlement is rough against my shoulder as I sag against it, tears freely falling down my face, the wind ripping at my hair.

I feel so utterly lost. Like a plastic bag being whipped around in a storm–no direction, nowhere to go. I brace my hands on the blocks of stone, leaning into the space between them, screaming until my throat is raw. Screaming for the loss of a dream I held so close for so long. For the future I planned out so meticulously. For not having a plan for the first time in my life. My screams turn into sobs, and I fall to my knees, burying my face in my hands.

"Fuck, Isla." Theo's voice registers a second before his arms wrap around me, hauling me away from the ledge. He presses his lips to my hair as I sob into his shirt, smoothing his hand down my back. "Are you hurt?" he asks, a quiet urgency in his voice.

I can't do anything more than shake my head no, shuddering breaths wracking my body.

"I don't think I'm strong enough for this," I finally say, hiccupping.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I'll lend you my strength as long as you need it. "

I wipe my cheeks on his shirt, sniffling. "How do I walk away from what made me who I am? How do I start over?"

He swallows, his bottom lip trembling. "I'm so fucking sorry, Isla." He pulls me out of his lap and sets me on the ground, kissing my cheek. He turns in the doorway, "At least come inside so you don't tumble over." I blink up at him, confused. Emotion roils in his eyes like storm clouds, and then he’s gone. I follow his advice and go inside, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach. I know I’m a lot sometimes, but out of everyone I’ve been with, he’s the one I thought could handle it. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this was all a gigantic fucking mistake. I wipe my cheeks and take several deep, shuddering breaths before heading back downstairs.

I find Charlie out on the terrace and distract myself by interrogating her on everything to do with babies so I can plan the shower she deserves. I desperately want to confide in her but don't want to cause stress, so I keep it in and paste a bright smile on my face. When Theo hasn't texted me after several hours, I turn my phone off and head back to the cottage, a mix of fury and sadness churning in my gut. What I need is a glass of wine, a hot shower, and a good night's sleep. Everything will be better in the morning.

I wake to sunlight streaming into my bedroom, thousands of gold specks floating around me like pixie dust. I yawn, stretching my arms above my head. As I reach for my phone, my fingers brush against a piece of paper. I jerk my hand back. That wasn't there last night. Heart pounding, I sit up and pick it up with my fingertips. Warranty Deed is written in bold letters across the top. My heart drops.

Oh no. No, no, no.

I skim the paper to the very end, where all three of them have signed it. I turn it over, looking for some sort of explanation, and find a Post-It note.

I'm so sorry, Isla. I'm going to do the right thing for once. I can't wait to come back someday and see your dreams come true. I'll never forget you. -T.

P.S. Patrick is paid through the end of the month .

Come back? No. My fingers tremble as I power on my phone. Eleven missed texts and two missed calls. Henry sent all but two of the messages.

Isla

Isla answer me

You missed 2 calls from Henry

Is this what you want? Theo said he found you sobbing over the pub and that he couldn't stand it anymore. That he was going to do the right thing for once in his life.

He has us on the next flight out, Isla. Please answer me.

I don't want to leave. I don't remember the last time I was this happy.

God, that's selfish of me. I'm happy, but you're not, and that's what matters in the end.

Don't worry about us. We'll be fine. Can't wait to come back eventually and see what you've done with the place.

They just told us to put our phones in airplane mode. Our sim cards won't work in the states, so I guess this is goodbye.

See ya later, Red.

I wipe at the tears running down my cheeks, clicking over to the text thread with Dylan.

You have to do something, Isla. He's convinced he's doing the right thing.

Please.

Oh god. I grab my phone and the deed. When I can't find my keys, I lace up my tennis shoes and sprint all the way to the castle. I crash through the front door, calling for Charlie.

"Isla!" Charlie frames my face, her big blue eyes already filling with tears in response to mine. "What's wrong?"

"They left, Charlie." I sob into her neck, gasping for breath. My heart feels like it’s shattering into a million pieces.

"Who left?"

I hold out the paper to her, my hand trembling.

She covers her mouth with her hand. "But I thought they sank everything they had into the pub."

"They did. The pub was all they had."

"Did you call them?"

I shake my head no. "Their sim cards won't work now that they're back in the States."

"What will you do?" she asks, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I take one steadying breath, then another, my mind racing.

"You should go after them," Charlie says, answering her own question.

"Go after who?" Jack enters the foyer, alarm flashing in his eyes. Charlie hands him the deed. He turns it over, scanning the note on the back. "They left just like that? Without saying anything?"

"Henry and Dylan tried, but I had my phone turned off."

"Why did you have your phone turned off?"

"Because Theo found me sobbing at the top of one of the towers. Said he was sorry and left me there without another word. I was annoyed."

"Why were you sobbing?" he asks, getting to the root of the issue.

My face heats. "They hired someone to work at the pub."

"And?" He's looking at me like I'm daft, and he has every right. I can't even count the number of times I've complained to him about having to work there when I don’t own it. "I didn't take it well."

"Why, Isla?"

I turn away from him, unable to take the disappointment in his eyes any longer. "Because I'm scared. My entire future was planned out, and now it's...not."

"You’re too smart to be this dumb." He smacks my shoulder with the deed, letting it flutter to the floor. "How do you feel now that everything you wanted has dropped into your lap? Are you looking forward to shouldering the responsibility of the pub on your own? What happened to the brewery you were just talking about opening?”

"Be nice, Jack," Charlie admonishes, taking my hand.

"No. She's a big girl. Answer me, Isla."

I suck in a breath through my nose. "You're right. The thought of going back to the way it used to be makes me sick to my stomach."

“There you go. And how do you feel when you think about starting a brewery?”

“Excited for the challenge.” He pats me on the head like a puppy who finally learned a new trick. God, I really fucked this up. I let myself get pulled into the endless depths of what could have been instead of facing my fear of the unknown. "I'm going after them."

"No, you're not. You’re staying right here and helping us get the roof back on the old groundskeeper's house before the floors get ruined."

" The roof? " Fucking hell.

"We had a three-day window, and they left after the first day. It will take all of us to get it done before it rains.”

I want to be the petulant little sister. Ask him how that's my fault. But it is my fault. I shouldn't have let myself get in the way of the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

"I think a bit of a cooling-off period will be good, anyway," Charlie says softly. "The four of you will have time to get your priorities straight."

I don’t want to ‘cool off,’ but I nod anyway, knowing she's probably right, just like she always is.

"Meet me out back in ten. Charlie has some coveralls you can borrow," Jack says, leaving no room for protest. He wraps me in his arms, his beard scratching my temple. "You're the strongest person I know, Isla. You were wasting your potential by holing yourself up in that pub. Now's your chance to take your future by the horns and show it who's motherfucking boss." He turns me to face the mirror hanging on the wall. “Say it.”

I meet his gaze, tears of gratitude nearly spilling over. “I’m Isla MacLeod and I’m a motherfucking bad bitch.”

He grins. “Again.”

“I’m Isla fucking MacLeod! And I’m a motherfucking bad bitch!” I yell, my words bouncing off the walls.

Jack kisses the crown of my head, pride shining in his eyes. “And don’t you ever forget it.”