Chapter 6

Chapter Six

C onnor trudged along the water’s edge, cursing his damn luck. The waves swashed relentlessly against the shore, mirroring the unrest inside him. Kirsty had him ready to crawl out of his skin. For more than one reason. Tiny remnants of vanilla frosting from the cupcake she had smashed in his face still clung to his nose.

He ran a tongue over the edges of his teeth, trying to forget about the sting. She was unpredictable. In a way that drove him mad and sparked an awareness he hadn’t sensed since…well, since she had last stood close to him. A swirling tempest in a five-foot-six frame that could throw him off balance with a single glance.

Connor stooped down to pick up a pebble, watching it skip across the water. He couldn’t ignore the way she made him feel. Slender curves poured into that apron, tempting him to reach across the counter and touch her in all the right places.

Because remembered every single one of them.

He kicked at an innocent rock, sending it skittering across the sand. It wasn’t just her unpredictability and proximity that unravelled him. No, it was the memories of their past, woven into the very fabric of this shore.

The shared laughter and whispered promises that lingered everywhere in Cairnhaven. A phantom soundtrack to the waves’ lapping. Warm wind blew in from the sea. The more he fought it, the more those old emotions bobbed to the surface like corks. As he walked, the scenery around him blurred into a watercolour of dusky purples, blues, and whites.

The recollection of their last Hogmanay fourteen years and seven months ago surged up with the force of the rising tide, pulling him under.

Hogmanay – fourteen years ago

The night was wild with possibility, fuelled by youth and cheap whisky with Irn-Bru. Cairnhaven’s air was charged with the anticipation of the new year. Connor, Kirsty, Rhona, Stephen, and the others celebrated in the packed square full of locals and visitors. To Connor’s utter delight, Alistair and his girlfriend had fucked off to Paris.

The future looked bright.

Kirsty was a dreamer, not like him. They were eighteen and she wanted to go places. Connor never had any doubts that she would and he was more than happy to come along for the ride. The plans they made together, scribbled on napkins and doodled in the steam on the café window, were of travel and adventure. They were to write their own story across continents, leaving Cairnhaven behind to see the world. Eventually, they’d return here. To settle down together. That was the plan they’d been making for two years.

He was nervous. This was a big night for him.

But Kirsty was awfully quiet, unusually so. While everyone else was off their tits, she’d been absentminded. Something was preoccupying her.

Him, too. He felt the weight in his pocket and hoped he wouldn’t make a complete arse of himself.

Then – ten minutes before midnight, just as he was mustering up his courage – Kirsty pulled out a letter. She fidgeted with the envelope, her eyes darting away from his.

‘Okay, so… Mister Appleby wanted me to apply for a creative writing scholarship in London,’ she began, her voice hollow.

His heart sank as he listened, each word hitting him like a slap. She hadn’t told him she’d applied.

Why not? They told each other everything.

‘I didn’t think I’d get in. I sent it because I didn’t want to disappoint Mister Appleby.’ Her eyes filled with both dread and excitement. ‘But Connor, I did. I did get in.’

And just like that, their plans turned to ash. Not just for tonight. For their life together. That letter tore apart his whole world. A single piece of paper with the power of an earthquake.

‘I’m moving to London.’

The echo swirled around in his head. London. She was leaving. Not travelling the world with him. Not…

‘We can make it work,’ she said, gripping his hand. ‘It’s only three years. You come and visit. Or you’ll get a job down there.’

Empty promises. Stupid lies to soften the blow. It was over. She didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. But he felt it in his guts.

He couldn’t go to London with Kirsty because that was her leap. Her solo flight into a future he couldn’t shadow without losing himself in the process. There was nothing there for him. He was stitched into the weave of Scotland. He was an Aberdonian, ready to travel the world with her, their shared adventure, because it was only for a few months and it was clear they’d end up back home.

No, this was her choice. Not theirs. She’d made it alone. Without so much as talking to him. He didn’t matter, was just an afterthought. Second fiddle. The suffocating, stifling role of his life. The role he hated and couldn’t shed.

As far as he was concerned, she’d betrayed him more than any other person ever had.

Because she knew .

She knew how his parents had left him at home and gone to Disneyland with Alistair when he’d had scarlet fever. She knew about the car money. About his fucked-up family and that Connor sometimes thought he shouldn’t exist. She knew .

And she’d treated him the same way.

She’d ripped his heart out.

And he retaliated the only way he could, with harsh and vicious words. He wanted to hurt her as much as she’d hurt him.

‘What do you believe they make of a Scottish small-town girl down in London? They’ll laugh at you. You’ll come crawling home, tail between your legs. Who do you think you are? Better than us, eh? Acting all high and mighty. You’re a ridiculous, delusional loser, Kirsty Munro. You’re a joke. You’re nothing. Nothing!’

Connor knew he was lashing out, but the pain of losing her, of being so unimportant to her, was a raw, throbbing wound that drove him over the edge.

Kirsty’s face crumpled and turned white. Her eyes widened in shock, filling with tears. She stepped back, clutching the letter to her chest as if it were a shield. The betrayal and anguish in her gaze cut through him like a dagger.

Then she turned around, shoulders shaking, and ran.

Connor’s body tensed at the memory. Now, years later, he understood why she’d done it. She had to. The scholarship had been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A chance to make something of herself and pursue her dreams. And even though it had shattered his heart, he couldn’t bring himself to resent her for it.

Not today that was.

But back then, his teenage self hadn’t been able to see past his own pain and anger. Unable to understand why she would choose to leave him behind and chase a new life without him. Why she hadn’t talked to him about it, included him.

He tried to shove the memories as far down as the rusting anchors that lingered beneath the waves.

Naw, not working.

The past clung to him like seaweed to the shore. There was no sugar-coating it. He’d driven Kirsty away.

But she was back now. A woman, not the teenage girl who’d left. She had her life, he had his. There was nothing connecting them but their history.

‘Connor, lad. Ye look like ye’ve seen a kelpie,’ Doctor Emslie’s voice came from behind.

Relations with the town were still a bit tense in the aftermath of the bakery’s closing eight years ago. Some of them, like the Doctor, were engaging with him again rather than ignoring his presence. He wasn’t one to give big apologies or explanations. But he was here, trying to make amends by paying taxes and helping with the Cairnhaven Rugby Minis. As much as his job allowed him to.

Part of him wouldn’t have been surprised if some of Cairnhaven’s people crossed themselves behind his back or spat over their shoulders to ward off evil. But they’d have the wrong capitalist devil.

It’s Alistair you should be watching out for.

‘I’m okay, just thinking. How are you today, Doctor?’

‘Cannae complain. Taking wee Augie for a beach walk. Braw day.’ He threw a ball for his white West Highland Terrier. A frown appeared on his face. ‘What do ye have in yer beard? Is that cream?’

Connor wiped the back of his hand along his chin. Vanilla frosting. ‘Oh, that . Aye, that’s…erm…lotion.’

Doctor Emslie gave an approving nod. ‘Quite right. Take care of yer skin, lad. Just because we’re in Scotland disnae mean we cannae get sunburn.’

Connor ruffled Augie’s fluffy ears, said goodbye, and wandered back into the winding streets of his hometown.

Time to get that stupid frosting off his face and the woman out of his head for good.