Chapter 28

28

T he bathroom was quiet except for the low hum of the washing machine. As he sorted through the laundry, Nathan’s mind was a mess – the kind that made his skull feel like it was going to split open. The morning school run had been a blur. He’d dropped off Abby, Becca, and Paul on autopilot.

Sir Hubert rubbed against his leg and purred like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Lucky furry fucker.

Nathan’s hand touched something silky in the laundry basket. He pulled it out, and the fabric slipped through his fingers like quicksilver.

Gennie’s yoga top.

Her image flashed through his mind. Her lithe body, skin glistening with sweat, the soft flesh of those full tits.

‘Fuck.’ He tossed the top aside.

Only to snatch it back up again.

He held it to his face and sucked in a deep breath. Her scent hit him like a fist to the solar plexus, sweet and earthy, the salt of her sweat. His pulse pounded in his ears.

He was in so fucking deep.

Nathan closed his eyes and pressed the fabric to his nose. For a second, he felt her skin under his fingertips, warm and smooth. Her hair brushing his cheek. The slide of her tongue against his.

He buried his nose in the soft fabric, a ragged groan ripped from his throat. The softness of the top clashed with the hard, raging want inside him.

Only she was able to soothe it.

But how was that possible after she’d betrayed him?

Right. It wasn’t.

Then why was he still consumed by this desperate, clawing want for her – the kind that was destroying him?

Heat pooled in his balls, his cock swelling and straining against the denim. He should push these thoughts away, shut them down. Shouldn’t be thinking about her, imagining her, wanting her like this.

But fuck if he didn’t yearn for the scorching friction between them. So much it made his eyes water.

He’d had her in his bed, his home. Gripping the sheets, biting his pillow as he buried himself deep inside her. Those damn sounds she’d made when she’d tried to be quiet as he’d fucked her.

Oh God.

The need for her possessed him. He pictured taking her again, slowly, deeply.

He needed a distraction. Had to get her out of his system. Still pressing his face to her top, he moved his hand down.

Gennie…

The honking of a car snapped him back to reality.

He dropped the yoga top as if it had scorched his fingers, stepped to the window, and pulled the curtain aside. Adnan, who owned the pub and burger joint in town, got out of his car with a face like a thundercloud.

Shite. The case of gin he’d come to pick up. It had completely slipped Nathan’s mind, lost in the mess of the last few days. No bloody wonder.

He shook his head. Sniffing dirty laundry like a creep.

What have you become, MacMillan?

His gaze flicked to another car lurking outside the gate, its occupants armed with cameras. Fucking paps were back. They hadn’t been skulking around when he’d dropped Abby off at school earlier, he was sure of it.

To his surprise, Adnan didn’t waste a second. He charged across the private lane that ran past the house like a mad bull. Nathan watched from the window as Adnan closed the distance. The vultures were huddled in their car, cameras ready, when Adnan reached them.

He smacked his flat hand on the bonnet. ‘Oi, you wankstains! What the hell do you think you’re doing here?’

The paps, caught off guard, hurried to roll up their windows.

‘Think you’re clever? Think you can park here and harass people? Newsflash: if I see your ugly faces around here again, you’ll regret it. I’ll make sure every fucking pub, every inn, and every hotel within miles knows your stupid faces. You won’t get a pint, a pillow, or a pot to piss in. Try me, you worthless cunts!’

The paparazzi exchanged panicked glances. Even scum like that understood the power of a local vendetta in a small town. They revved the engine and took off like the hounds of hell were snapping at their heels. Adnan stood his ground and his glare bore holes into their retreating taillights until they were completely out of sight.

What the ever-loving fuck just happened?

Nathan stumbled downstairs and opened the door as Adnan approached, still seething with rage.

‘Why did you do that, man?’ Nathan asked, genuinely bewildered. After all, they’d only ever been casual acquaintances, their interactions limited to the odd gin delivery. He’d either drop the crates at Adnan’s joint or Adnan would swing by the distillery next door to collect them.

Nathan felt a strange sense of gratitude. He moved aside and invited Adnan into the house for the first time. ‘Cuppa?’

‘Aye, I could do.’ Adnan stepped into the hallway. ‘Bloody vultures. Swarming all over town because of that film. Laying siege to my place without buying anything. Cheap bastards. Bad for business.’

A grudging smile pulled at the corners of Nathan’s lips as they walked into the kitchen. ‘Cheers, mate. Appreciate it.’

‘Nae worries.’ Adnan waved him off. ‘But what the hell are they snooping around here for, anyway? Is it because of the kissy pictures?’

Nathan bit his tongue as he flicked on the kettle. Frustration boiled beneath his calm exterior. ‘Fucked if I know what’s so fascinating about it. I kissed a girl. Happens all the time, all over the world.’

’Aye, they’re looking for a juicy story. Or pulling one out their arses if they can’t find any.’ He sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Ye’ve kept a low profile for almost two decades.’

So Adnan remembered Nathan’s sordid past. Fantastic. ‘I’d rather not think about that time.’

‘Why not, MacMillan? You were in the limelight, raking in some cash, having fun with the lasses. And what’s one doobie and a shag among teenagers?’ Adnan guffawed as Nathan plunked the steaming cup in front of him. ‘Mate, I’ve done far worse. There’s nae video, but it happened. Also, back then, everyone had a sex tape – Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, Colin Farrell, Tommy Lee… So stop pishin’ yersel’ about the past.’

The rigid clench of Nathan’s jaw sent a pulse of pain through his temples. The old humiliation rose, a biting taste at the back of his throat. He’d spent half his life trying to outrun that shame, to bury it six feet deep. It was clinging to him like a malevolent shadow.

But as Adnan’s words sank in, a tiny fissure appeared in his fortress of self-loathing and mistrust.

Maybe he was right. It was possible that he’d been a prisoner to that shame, let it fester and devour him for far too long until it was all he knew. The world had moved on, but he had remained trapped in this endless loop of self-flagellation, punishing himself for sins long forgiven by everyone but himself.

’To be honest,’ Adnan added with a grin, ‘you weren’t half bad in that tape. Not half bad at all.’

Christ wept, did he want to discuss performance?

‘Adnan, I don’t know what—’

‘Naw, man. Hear me out.’ He put down his mug. ‘Ye’re a decent bloke, MacMillan. At least yer gin is decent.’ His laugh filled the quiet kitchen. ‘Ye’ve got a cracking kid, too. Abby’s thick as thieves with my niece Becca. And ye’re doing it all on your own. Must be hard.’

‘Hold on. You’re Becca’s uncle?’

‘Aye. Amira’s my baby sister. Blairdrochaid’s a wee toon, mate. Bit odd you’re not in the parents’ group chat, though. But I get it. Ye want yer privacy.’

Nathan let out a heavy sigh. ‘It’s not so much wanting, it’s more…a matter of survival.’

‘Is it, aye? Suppose these pap twats can make your life a nightmare.’

‘You don’t know the half of it.’ Nathan drew a hand along his jaw, suddenly dead-weary.

‘Anyway.’ Adnan pushed to his feet. ‘We’ve got yer back, yours and Abby’s, is all I’m saying. Drop by the pub sometime. And bring that girl again. Seems a good sort. She can put away a burger, too. Gotta respect that in a woman.’ He laughed again. ‘Now, let’s get that gin sorted, aye?’

Adnan’s words played on a loop in Nathan’s mind as they walked. Maybe being part of a community wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe it was time to stop living under a rock all the time. For Abby’s sake, if nothing else.

Nathan was elbow-deep in suds, scrubbing the hell out of a stubborn frying pan, when the shrill cry of the doorbell pierced the silence blanketing Glenwood Lodge. His gaze flicked to the clock.

What’s with this bloody day?

It wasn’t the Camerons’ turn to come over. And who else could it be? Probably some goddamn pap, hungry for a scoop. Well, he had a scoop for them, all right. One that involved a fist and a few choice words.

He snatched a tea towel and stomped to the door. With a grunt, he wrenched it open a crack, ready to unleash hell.

…only to be greeted by the shite-eating grins of Gordon and Martin Cameron.

‘Took you long enough, lad,’ Gordon tutted, his arms cradling a pie dish. ‘Aren’t you going to invite us in?’

Nathan hesitated. ‘Wasn’t expecting you today.’

‘We figured ye could use some company,’ Martin said and shouldered his way past Nathan with a hearty pat on the back. ‘Can’t let our favourite grump waste away, noo can we?’

Gordon squeezed past. ’So we thought we’d have lunch with you today.’

‘Is that so?’ Nathan asked. ‘Come on in, then. Seeing that you’re already halfway to the kitchen.’ He trailed after the pair, watching as they made themselves at home like they owned the place.

Part of him was far more grateful for their company than he should have been.

Gordon shoved the pie into the microwave, the buttons beeping under his fingers. Martin dropped into a chair with a groan.

As they sat around the worn wooden table, he fixed Nathan with a stare that could peel paint. ‘So, ye’ve been making quite the splash in the papers, haven’t ye?’

Anger simmered under Nathan’s skin, resignation tempering the burn. ‘Not by choice.’

‘We’ve seen the photos,’ Martin said. ‘We’ve read the headlines. Vitriolic nonsense.’

Nathan’s teeth ground like millstones. ‘Aye, it is.’

The microwave beeped, and Martin heaved himself up to portion the pie onto three plates. ‘A right load of shite.’ His face was unusually grim. ‘But it’ll blow over. They’re always hungry for fresh scandals, and there’s nothing to see here.’

‘No, there isn’t,’ Nathan agreed, his voice flat.

‘Seems those pap vultures were after that Chloe lass and her drug and party antics. Because she is big with the “Tictac”,’ Gordon said around a mouthful of tatties. ‘Now that she’s buggered off to rehab, they’ve latched onto this other actress instead. Zarah something-or-other, from that tits-and-dragons show. Game of Legends, was it?’

‘No. Hunger Thrones, ye daft coot’, Martin corrected with conviction.

A rusty bark of laughter tore from Nathan’s throat, foreign to his own ears. ‘You two are a trip, you know that?’

Gordon winked at him. ‘Of course we are. Now eat before it gets cold.’

Was that other woman the real reason these bastards were in town? If that were true, that would mean… Maybe Gennie had told the truth all along. Maybe she wasn’t the snitch he’d painted her as. And that meant…

He’d screwed it up. Colossally.

His fork hit the plate with a loud clank.

Regret writhed in his gut, a barbed noose cinching tighter with every breath. He’d let his fears cloud his judgement, let paranoia drive a wedge where there shouldn’t have been one. He wasn’t as good at protecting Abby – or himself – as he’d thought.

All he was good at was pushing people away.

Turned out he was a pro at that.

But… Even if she hadn’t betrayed him – which he didn’t say she hadn’t – she was still too young. Too hungry for life. She had the whole world at her feet, adventures to chase and dreams to catch. He was nothing but a shackle, an anchor dragging her down.

‘You mustn’t let this nonsense get to you.’ Gordon’s palm was a steadying weight on Nathan’s shoulder. ‘Let these cockroaches bully you.’

‘It’s not about me, it’s about—‘

‘Abby. Aye, we know,’ Gordon interjected and squeezing gently.

Martin reached over, his hand warm on his. ‘Cannae control the wagging tongues, but ye can control how much power ye give them. Did ye like the lass?’ Martin asked out of the blue.

Nathan’s cheeks burned like coals. He ducked his head, glaring at his plate like it had personally offended him.

‘Don’t be so personal, Martin.’ Gordon shot his husband a stern look. ‘Let’s talk about something else for a change. With Samhain approaching, how about we take you and Abby to the pumpkin patch down the A9?’

Nathan hesitated, his gaze drifted towards the window. The prospect of venturing out with the Camerons and Abby wasn’t unappealing, but the thought of facing the world beyond Glenwood’s walls right now set his teeth on edge.

‘What do ye say, lad?’ Martin’s voice punctuated Nathan’s reverie. ‘Pumpkin patch and all? Maybe a cheeky pint after?’

His shoulders slumped forward. ‘Abby would love that.’ He drew in a deep breath, ‘And I did,’ he said, more to himself than to the Camerons. ‘I do.’

‘Come again?’ Martin leaned forward, bushy brows waggling.

‘Like the lass,’ Nathan confessed, and the truth ripped from him like stitches from a wound.

‘It’s written all over yer face, lad.’ Martin grinned. ‘From the second we saw yous together. Clear as day.’

Gordon elbowed him. ‘You know our Andrew, my brother’s boy? He’s an extra in the film and all that. Random Scot number 1314. He says they’re shooting for another week.’

‘And so?’ Nathan asked.

Martin slapped him on the back again. ‘Gives ye seven days to sort this mess.’