June, Reimagined (44)

“I just need to step out for a bit, but I’ll be back shortly.” Lennox took his exit.

June sat back down on the bed in the room, now feeling cold. She grabbed the coffee off the nightstand and slammed it down in a few hot gulps. She needed clarity. Focus. How had this happened? How could Lennox do this to her? She must be overreacting, oversensitive, overreading the situation. Lennox was a good man. He would never kick her out and so quickly. Or would he? He had told June, just last night, that he was a bad man, but she had refused to believe him—had insisted he was wrong. Lennox had warned her, and she had turned a blind eye, out of lust.

June grabbed her clothes and raced downstairs. She changed into a fresh outfit and repacked her belongings, stuffing items into the bag quickly. In the living room, she stacked the blankets and pillow she’d used for the past five days, then wheeled her bag into the kitchen, fully prepared to leave before Lennox returned. Max stood at the door, blocking her way, a tennis ball in his mouth. June felt nauseous.

Max dropped the ball and nudged it toward her with his nose.

“I can’t, Max. I have to go.” But his puppy-dog face broke her heart. June picked up the slobbery ball. “Fine. Just for a minute.”

She rolled the ball down the hallway, and Max bounded after it, returning it to her like a trusty companion. “At least one of you is predictable,” she sighed.

Just then, the door opened, and Lennox came back in, hair misted with rain, mobile phone in hand. “You’re leaving already?” He seemed surprised, but then again, June couldn’t trust her judgment. Lennox picked up the tennis ball and tossed it down the hallway for Max. “Can I make you some food? The menu is limited, but I make a brilliant breakfast.”

“I’m sure you’re anxious to have your house to yourself again.”

“Aye, you’ve been quite a burden. My arms are tired from constantly putting the toilet seat down. And the dishes. How many cups does a person need in a day?”

June forced a laugh while her heart sank. “Well, it’s important to stay hydrated.”

An awkward silence fell between them then, neither making a move. Max had not gone after the tennis ball and was now intently looking out the storm door. He barked.

“Damn birds always taunting him,” Lennox said.

June extended the handle on her roller bag. It was time to go. Lennox took the suitcase from her hands.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I can make it back to the inn myself.”

“With your track record, Peanut, I wouldn’t be surprised if a sinkhole opened in the driveway and swallowed you alive. I’d rather be there just in case.” Max barked again, and then again. “What the hell, Max? Calm down. They’re just birds.”

The dog sat still at the storm door, attention on the cab in the driveway of the inn that was picking up travelers to take to the bus station. Twilight had fallen. June felt lost in time. Had the festival only been yesterday?

Max barked again, and Lennox scratched behind his ears. “It’s just a guest, Max. You see them all the damn time.”

“Speaking of guests . . . I should probably go.” June went to leave. She needed to keep moving.

“Wait, Peanut.” Lennox stopped her. His fingers traveled down her arm, teasing her one last time.

June couldn’t take it. She stepped back from his touch and used her last ounce of energy to act casual. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone about your VHS collection of Little House on the Prairie episodes.”

Lennox chuckled. “Appreciated. And I won’t tell anyone you sleep with your eyes half-open.”

June gaped. “I do not.”

“You do too. Trust me. I’ve spent a good while watching you sleep.”

Why did Lennox have to say things like that, only to confuse her? Was this a part of some twisted game? She needed to get out of the house, but when she attempted to leave again, Max blocked her way. He scratched at the storm door, whining to get out.

“Jesus, Max,” Lennox said. “What’s gotten into you? Do you know that person?”

As it turned out, the cab parked at the inn was not collecting guests, but rather depositing one. As June watched him get out of the car, sling his messenger bag over his shoulder, and examine a piece of paper, June was struck by how familiar it all looked.

“I didn’t think Amelia had any new guests checking in.” Lennox held Max back by his collar.

“It can’t be,” June whispered.

“Can’t be what?”

It had to be a figment of June’s imagination. There was no way what she was seeing was real. June pushed through the doorway, Max on her tail, and took off at full speed toward the inn. It wasn’t until she barreled into a real, live human being that June actually believed what was happening. She clung to him, pressing her nose into his scarf, breathing in the scent of coffee and books. June would have disappeared into him, melted into him until she dissolved, if she could.

“June,” he said.

Somehow, some way, Matt Tierney had arrived in Scotland.





NINETEEN


June hadn’t realized she was crying until Matt wiped the tears from her cheeks. She grabbed at him, still not believing her eyes. His hair was tousled and messy, and small bags hung under his eyes.