I guess this is all my dad is willing to share with me—all he seems to want from me. And that’s okay. I don’t need more than that from him. It was stupid of me to think he and Icouldhave anything more than that. The way things are between us, all of it, is…fine.
The passenger door opens, and Jacob slides back into his seat, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead.
I involuntarily raise my hand to my bangs, adjusting them, remembering the way my hair was drenched that night at the pub, and when Jacob turns to put his seat belt back on, our eyes meet.
It’s not just his hair that’s wet, but his face too. There are tracks of water on his cheeks, and I can’t tell if they’re from the rain or tears. His eyes are red, but that could be from the wind. And his expression doesn’t help me figure it out. He’s completely unreadable.
The rain continues to fall, the dirt on the side of the road turning to mud, and I look away, hoping we’ll be out of here soon.
11
The car’s in park, fully turned off, and we’ve all taken turns getting out and walking around. I’m enjoying the fresh air and filming a video of the sheep with my phone. There are fewer of them than before, but it’s still quite a sight. I send it to my boss, Natalie, thinking she’ll get a kick out of this.
Note to self: Never film a season in Scotland.
She responds quickly, even with the time difference.
As if they’d let us. We’re a “beach” show remember.
I snort. Glad I’m not the only one still bitter about that note from the network.
Isn’t it late over there? Why are you up?
Reviewing travel packages. Was considering New Zealand, but I have a feeling they have a sheep problem too.
Probably.
I put my phone in my back pocket and lift my head to the gray sky. The rain’s cleared up a little, but there’s still a fine mist in the air, clinging to my skin.
I never thought this kind of weather could be beautiful. I spend most of my days in the sun, in L.A. and whatever beachy destinations we’re at for work, but something about the overcast sky and misty air is magical. Or maybe that’s just the effect of the Highlands. The way the green hills seem to go on forever, taking up all the space, filling your entire field of vision.
It would be nice to film something here, actually. Though Natalie’s right. The network would never let us.
I make my way back to the car, sitting in the driver’s seat, since my father asked to switch.
Beside me, Jacob’s reclined his chair, and his eyes are closed. His full lips are parted in sleep, his face unguarded. He’s softer like this, but not relaxed. I’m not sure if he’s dreaming, but there’s tension between his brows, something bothering him even when he’s not conscious.
A loud buzzing noise fills the car, and my dad, who was closing his eyes in the back, jumps, fumbling for his phone on the seat next to him, but it’s not his phone that’s vibrating. It’s the one sitting on Jacob’s lap.
I put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.
He blinks a few times, confused, his lashes fluttering, but his eyes grow soft when he sees me.
“Hi,” he says, and his voice is so tender, the quietest exhale, that it shocks me into silence for a moment.
“Your phone,” I say, flustered. I reach toward it, but stop when I realize it’s in a precarious position, nestled between his thighs.
He sits up straight, his sleepy expression turning sharp. “Oh.” He checks the screen, then answers the phone quickly.
“Maggie?”
My dad leans forward, his head peeking between the two front seats.
“Are you okay?” Jacob asks.
She replies, but her voice is muffled. I can’t make out what she’s saying. Jacob’s silent as he listens, but at some point, he lets out a loud exhale. He looks at my father and mouths,She’s fine,and my dad’s face goes slack with relief.
“Where are you?” Jacob asks, and a few seconds later he says, “Really? Okay, we’re only an hour away—”
