She opened her mouth to send him away, but he stepped closer, large hands bracketing her arms, pulling her towards him. Then, his mouth was on hers—warm, unhurried at first, the kiss unfolding slowly, almost cautiously. His lips moved against hers with a tenderness that made want more, and when his tongue slipped past the seam of her mouth, it was tentative, exploratory, as though he were testing both her and himself.
She tried to pull back and that faint tremor was all it took for the restraint to snap. His hands slid from her arms to her waist, strong fingers tightening as he pressed her back into the doorframe. The wood was cool against her spine; the heat of him, overwhelming. His tongue tangled with hers, no longer tentative, the kiss turning deeper, rougher, hungry in a way that left her dizzy. She had never been kissed this way before ,like she was the very air he breathed.
One of his palms flattened against the small of her back, pinning her in place, while the other came up to cradle her jaw, holding her still as if he couldn't bear to let her pull away. Sage clung to his shoulders, lost in the sheer force of it—the taste of him, the raw need beneath it, and the truth she hadn't expected...
She wanted it just as badly.
By the time he drew back, her lips felt bruised, her breath shallow.
"I've wanted tae do that since I first saw ye on that train," he murmured, voice rough.
Sage touched her swollen lips, eyes dropping to the floor. She didn't need to feel guilty—Ronin had forfeited that right—but the guilt still burned through her chest like acid.
"I've booked my train back to Bristol tomorrow," she said softly, not looking up. "Twelve o'clock. Please...can you drive me to the station?"
His face fell, the raw flicker of hope in his expression dimming. "You're going back tae him? Your partner?"
She shook her head quickly. "No. I don't think I can. But we've been together for more than twenty years. I need to face him; I need to settle things. And I need to see my son. David is as precious to me as Blair is to you." She hesitated, then met his gaze. "Blair... She needs help, Euan. This isn't normal. The way she treats people...it's not right. If David behaved like that, I'd ground him for months."
Euan hung his head. He knew she was right, but he didn't know what to do.
Her tone was gentle. "You also deserve a life, Euan. You are an amazing man. And you don't know how hard it is for me to go back; I want to stay here and see this through. But you need to sort things out with Blair, and I need to go back and face themusic. Even if we never meet again, you still deserve to be loved, and Blair needs to understand that."
She turned away, trembling, clutching the doorframe as if it could hold her steady. Then she pushed him through the doorway and shut the door. Tomorrow would come too soon and not soon enough.
The morning came way too quickly. Breakfast passed in near silence, the scrape of cutlery and the tick of the old clock louder than either of them could bear. Euan sat opposite her, shoulders stooped with dark circles around his eyes, as if he'd slept even less than she had.
When the dishes were cleared, he rose without a word and carried her bags out to the car. She followed, heart thudding, watching the now beloved breadth of his back as he hoisted them into the boot. The air was cool, damp with mist, and it felt as though every sound—every birdcall, every crunch of gravel beneath their feet—was amplified in the absence of speech. The chemistry between them sizzled even as goodbye loomed on the horizon.
The drive to the station was short but endless, with neither of them filling the silence. Sage stared out at the green hills rolling past, her hands clenched in her lap, while Euan's grip on the wheel stayed tight-knuckled.
When the car finally slowed by the platform, she turned to him. His face was pale, eyes weary, as if he was trying to hold back words, as if they pressed against the back of his teeth. She stopped him before he could say anything. "Don't," she whispered, her throat burning with pain. "Don't make it harder."
She leaned across the gearshift and wrapped her arms around him. For a moment, he didn't move, but then he folded her into him, holding her with the steadiness she both craved and dreaded. Their mouths found each other again, lips clashing in a kiss that was gentler than the night before, but no less desperate. It lingered, sweet and heavy, before she pulled back. There was a connection between them that she couldn't explain, and now she had to leave it behind. "I have to go," she said, her voice breaking. "Thank you."
She stepped from the car, eyes wet, and shouldered her bag without looking back. On the platform, she boarded the train, finding a seat by the window. As it pulled away, she turned her face to the glass.
Euan was there on the platform, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his tall frame slouched as if the weight of her leaving had defeated him. He looked utterly lost, and the sight of him blurred as her tears finally fell.
The train rattled south, carrying her away from the green silence of the Highlands and back towards the life she had abandoned. Sage barely moved, watching the blur of fields and towns through the streaked window, her reflection pale and haunted in the glass. Each mile away from Euan closed the distance between her and Ronin, between her and David, and the knot in her chest grew more tenacious.
By the time the train slid into Bristol Temple Meads, her body felt heavy with exhaustion and nervousness. She collected her bag, stepped into the damp city air, and ordered an Uber. The drive through familiar streets felt strange, like walking intoan old photograph—everything the same, yet altered by her absence.
Her pulse leapt painfully in her throat when the car finally pulled up outside the house. She stood for a moment on the pavement, staring at the front door, the place she had once called home. Her hand shook as she lifted it to the bell.
The chime echoed faintly inside. There was a long pause before footsteps sounded.
The door opened.
Ronin stood there, hair mussed, a shadow of stubble on his jaw. His eyes widened, colour draining from his face leaving him looking washed out. He looked at her as though she were a ghost conjured from memory—someone long gone whom he hadn't dared hope to see again.
"Sage..." he breathed, voice caught between shock and disbelief.
Chapter 18
Ten days ago
Ronin stood in the hall, staring at the empty hook by the door. Her keys were always there...always. It annoyed her when someone left the keys anywhere else. His eyes flicked to the dresser, to the shelf by the stairs. To the kitchen counter, where he had found them.
