"Keep this torch by the bed, just in case the power goes."
"What's the name of that film wi' the lad and the dog?"
"I've opened this bottle of wine, and it'll go tae waste unless ye help me finish it."
"I swear this radiator was making funny noises."
Exasperated by the hundredth knock, Sage swung the door open. "What now, Euan? Haemorrhoid cream?"
And the best part was, Euan just laughed it off. Sage couldn't help but think of the time she made a comment like that to Ronin, and how he had sulked like a toddler.
Blair's face, on the other hand, was like a thundercloud hovering in the distance.
At lunch, Blair's jab hung sharp in the air.
"Bet ye've not had tae cook much in yer life," she said, her tone thick with scorn. "Gold-diggers usually don't."
Sage's fork kept moving. She’d spent the morning quietly prepping in the kitchen for her special meatloaf—browning the onions carefully, mixing the ground beef with just the right breadcrumbs and seasoning, shaping the loaf just right and glazing it with a sweet-tangy sauce so the edges caramelised just so.
She’d placed it centre-table, let the aroma waft first into the room, laid the plates with Euan’s grandmother’s linens, polished the cutlery until it caught the light. But Blair wasn’t easily won over.
Before she could decide whether to answer, Euan's voice cut in, with a tone she had not heard from him yet—though it wasn't stern enough.
"Blair. That's enough. You are twenty-one, not ten," he said, the vowels softer and rounder than usual. "I asked Sage to stay here. Ye need tae behave."
The rebuke was lukewarm, little more than a flick of water against a flame, but Sage appreciated it all the same. Blair rolledher heavily lined eyes, stabbing her food in exaggerated silence like the mashed potatoes were Sage's insides.
Later that afternoon, after another round of thinly veiled barbs, Euan turned to Sage, who was making her escape. "Do ye want tae walk doon tae the loch?"
She agreed with relief, and together, they strolled beneath the trees until the water opened into a quiet stretch. He stooped to pick up a stone, weighing it in his palm before offering it to her. "Ye want it flat," he explained, crouching at the bank. "Smooth enough tae cut the water, but heavy enough tae carry."
Sage folded her arms, pretending to listen with mock seriousness. "Oh? Is that how it's done?"
He cast the stone with a flick of his wrist, and it danced across the surface—one, two, three skips before sinking.
"Not bad," she said, then bent to select one of her own. She launched it with practiced ease, and it skipped four times before vanishing beneath the surface. She shot him a triumphant look.
His grin broke loose, warm and unguarded. "Ye've done this before."
"Once or twice."
They laughed together, closer than they should have been in just four days of knowing each other as the tension of the past day slipped away. Then the laughter faded, and she noticed his gaze shift downwards, lingering on her mouth. The air between them sparked with unspoken attraction, as if they'd stumbled into a spell neither wanted to break.
Before he could close the space, Sage blurted out in a rush. "I have a son, David. He's clever. Smarter than me, really. I'm so proud of him." Her throat suddenly filled with tears. "And I miss him...so much."
Euan's eyes softened. "Somethin' went wrong, did it no?" His voice was quiet, careful, as if coaxing the truth.
She looked away, blinking hard. "Everythingwent wrong."
He looked at her with those eyes like a still lake, and without a word, pulled her into a warm hug, arms closing around her in a way that felt both foreign and somehow everything she needed. He was a stranger, and yet, somehow, they connected in a way that she hadn't with anyone in a long time. For a moment, she let herself lean into him, breathing in the scent of soap and the faint spice of woodsmoke.
Then, a sharp voice cracked the air. "What's this supposed tae be?"
They broke apart to see Blair at the edge of the path, her expression a storm of betrayal and fury. Her arms were crossed, her glare fixed on Sage as though she'd stolen something that never belonged to her. She then proceeded to stomp off like a brat.
At dinner, it was worse. Blair waited until Euan left the room, then wrinkled her nose at the stew Sage had cooked. "Figures. Even your food tastes like it came out of a tin."
Sage clenched her jaw and ignored her, though it was getting harder to hold her tongue. Euan returned, none the wiser, and Blair's expression smoothed into boredom as she concentrated on her food.
