The Highland Fling(101)

“Do you want a drink?” I ask.

“Water is fine.”

I nod. “Do you mind if I order a beer? I’m going to need it to get through this conversation.”

“By all means.”

“I’ll be right back.” I quickly go to the bar and put in two small orders of fish and chips and a lager for myself, which Hamish fills up quickly, along with a glass of water for Sorcha. When I make it back to the booth, I hand Sorcha her water and take a seat, bringing the pint to my lips and taking a large gulp.

When I set the beer down, Sorcha looks me in the eyes. “How are you doing, Rowan?”

“My father is dying. I could be better.”

“Have you come to terms with it?” she asks softly.

“No.” I shake my head. “He has, though.”

“He has.” Sorcha nods.

I take another swig of my lager. “So, what should we expect?”

“You want to jump right into it?”

I nod. “Might as well.”

“Okay.” Sorcha reaches into her purse and pulls out an envelope from the hospice provider we chose to help us make Da’s last days as easy and painless as possible.

Da’s doctor was instrumental in pairing us with a caregiver who will stay with Maw and Da through his last days. I can already tell she’s a kind and gentle soul, someone who will be there for us every step of the way.

I know we’re going to need it.



“Good morning,” I say, walking through the door of my parents’ house. Sorcha is already here, taking care of Da and making sure he’s comfortable in the hospice bed we set up in the living room. The room’s large windows look out onto the loch, letting in light and a cool breeze, which was what Da wanted.

“Aye, good morning,” Da says, sitting up in the bed and moving to the edge. His mobility is okay. He can move around the main level of the house with a walker, but if we go farther afield, he uses a wheelchair.

Maw comes into the living room, fully dressed and ready for the day. “Rowan, are you here for the grocery list?”

I nod. “Aye. I was going to run to the Mill Market quickly and then come back to help out Sorcha, like you said.”

“Thank you,” Maw says. “I’m running to Kyle to fill these prescriptions and pick up a few other things. Do you need anything, Sorcha?”

She shakes her head. “I have everything I need right here.”

Maw hands me a list and quietly says, “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.” List in hand, I go to Da’s bed, give him a quick kiss on the top of the head, and then set out.

Normally, I would walk, but given the circumstances, I hop in my pickup and drive the short distance into town, parking in front of the Mill Market. When I make my way inside, I grab a trolley and head straight to the produce section while glancing at the list.

Apples.

I need apples and—

Crash.

The trolley handle bumps into my stomach, and I look up to see a wide-eyed Bonnie looking straight at me, our trollies perpendicular to one another.

Hell.

When was the last time I saw her? Thought about her? Returned a call or text?

The answer to the last one: never.

I’ve thought about her constantly, when my da hasn’t been on my mind.

Last time I saw her . . . I pushed her away.

I saw red that day, took it out on her, and ran her out of my life.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, trying to get out of the way. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Nah, I wasn’t. I’m . . . sorry.”

“Guess we both were buried in something else,” she says, her voice wavering. “All right, well, I guess I’ll be going.”

“Bonnie—”

“See ya.” She waves quickly and hurries toward the checkout counter. With a quick word to Shona, she abandons her cart and strides out of the store.

Fuck.

I drag my hand over my face.

What the hell have I done?

And then it hits me.

I quickly pull my phone from my pocket and glance at the date.

“Fuck,” I mutter, pulling at my hair until pain radiates down my skull. “Fuck.” I squeeze my eyes shut.

I missed it.

I missed her fucking opening day.

Not only have I fucked up what we had by displacing my anger, but I also broke a promise, one that meant the world to her.

“Everything okay over here?” Shona asks, appearing by my side. “Swearing in the produce is cause for concern.”

“Sorry.” I stick my phone back in my pocket. “Just realized I missed something.”

“Aye, the reopening of the Hairy Coo Coffee Company.”

“How did you know?”

“Just an inkling.” She rocks back on her heels. “I was there, but not until the afternoon. None of us were able to show up till then.”

“Why?”

“Tour bus got stuck, so we all went to help them out. No one was at the opening. Heard from Isla that Bonnie was devastated.” My gut churns. “Don’t blame the girl for going back home—she’s had a rough go at it, what with getting in a fight with Dakota, losing you, the coffee shop . . . and now that your maw is back—”