“Jamie?” Avi’s head pops up. She’s got on my Empyreal sweatshirt and another piece inside me breaks. She dries her hands on a towel thrown over her shoulder, concern shifting across her face. I can only imagine what I look like to her right now. “What’s going on? Is it Angus? Lennox?” Her voice rises with each question, a fear taking over that someone might not be alright.
If only she knew… It’s me who’s not alright.
“They’re fine,” I clip, ignoring the looks of everyone else in the kitchen, feeling them all watching me.
“Oh, well…” She draws out the words, confusion replacing the concern that was marring her beautiful features. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
I shake my head and clench my fists tighter, feeling my fingernails bite into my palms. I incline my head toward the door and stalk past her, hearing the slap of my shoes against the tiles. Her brow furrows, but she follows me out.
The moment the door closes I whirl on her. “Is he mine?” I exhale the words with a lethal calm I’m definitely not feeling.
She stumbles back and her mouth goes slack. “What?”
“Is. He. Mine?” I know he is from what Grandad said, but I need to hear it from her. I need to know for sure.
She holds my stare and I swear I can see it all right there, in the eyes I’ve always loved so much. The truth.
“Oh my god. He is.” I rake my hands through my hair again, wanting to tear it out at the roots. My hands come away wet. I didn’t even realize it was raining. I can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything outside my body at the moment.
“Jamie, I—” Avi says with a step toward me, but I throw up a hand.
“No. You—” I wheeze, unable to pull in a full breath. “You don’t get—” I rub my hand across my chest, pressing hard like it will hold together the pieces of my heart that are splintering apart as I speak.
“Come sit, Jamie, you need to calm down. You’re—” She moves toward the swing. The swing that’s been both a place of love and a place of heartbreak over the years.
“I need… to calm down?” Everything comes out stilted, chopped and short because I can’t breathe. “Are you”—I suck in a short inhale—“fucking kidding me, Avonlea?”
“Jamie…” She glances at the kitchen, clearly afraid of who might be watching or listening.
Fuck.
“I need to go,” I say, stepping back. One step and then another until I bump into the tire swing. Then I turn for the cottage and the car waiting there.
“You can’t drive like this.” Avi’s voice is laced with concern—with regret and heartbreak and fear.
“I can’t fucking stay here,” I yell, eliminating the distance between me and the car while she runs behind me. I reach for thedoor and yank it open.
“Jamie, please, let me explain…” she begs, and I know tears are mixing with the droplets of rain on her face.
“Explain? Explain!” I shout back at her. Then I lower my voice to a forced whisper. “Explain to me that I have a ten-year-old son? Avonlea, you kept him from me… How do you explain that? My god, ten years. Ten fucking years. How? How could you do this?”
“Jamie, I—”
“No, I can’t do this right now.”
I slide into the seat and slam the door, throwing my bag onto the floor. Before she can do more than take two steps forward, I’ve wrenched the key in the ignition and shifted into reverse. I focus on the rearview mirror until I reach the alley that will take me to the street, turning the wheel and shifting into first. Before I step on the gas, I look out the window in time to watch Avi fall to her knees in the gravel with her head in her hands.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Avonlea – Eleven Years Ago
“Ilove you, Jamie,” I say, and then shake my head, looking at myself in the mirror. I feel ridiculous talking to myself, but I want to tell him and it has to be right.
How do you tell your best friend that you love them? Especially when they live half a world away.
“Jamie, you’re my best friend and I love you. As more than a friend. Ugh,” I groan. I can’t say that. But he leaves tomorrow morning and I have to tell him something. If I don’t tell him now, I won’t have a chance to tell him again until next summer and then it’ll be too late. He won’t choose to come back to Scotland, but maybe if he knows how I feel it will make a difference in his decision. If I wait, he’ll already have made his decision and there’s no chance we can ever be together. He’ll never come home. I can feel it.
But I know he feels the same way. He has to. After what we shared yesterday—making love in the van—that alone was enough to tell me he loves me the way I love him.
