“And sometimes,” Mary adds, “fear keeps us from seeing what’s right in front of us.”
I frown. “That’s not exactly clear.”
“Next event!” Maggie declares.
Of course.
The tug-of-war is worse.
Alistair stands behind me, arms wrapped around my waist. Every time he tightens his grip, my heart goes completely off rhythm.
Across from us, Callum and Jane are perfectly in sync.
“You okay?” Alistair murmurs. “You’re tense.”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Keira…”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I glance back—and catch something in his expression. Soft. Frustrated. Familiar.
“Ready?” Duncan calls.
We pull.
Together, instantly aligned. Moving as one.
For a moment, I forget everything.
It’s not a performance. Not a contract.
It’s just us.
And it feels… right.
Then—
A loud bleat.
Hooves on gravel.
Hamish charges in like a furry missile, Rosita racing after him.
“Hamish, no!” Callum yells.
Too late.
He barrels straight into Jane, knocking her—and Callum—off balance. The rope jerks. We all go down in a heap.
Hamish stands in the middle, looking proud.
Rosita nudges him disapprovingly.
“I think we have a winner!” Duncan laughs.
