Page 93 of Dissonance

Rain hits the windshield at a steady rhythm as I pass the sign for Taunton Falls, the wipers dragging back and forth in time with it. Grey skies, damp roads, trees stretching on either side like they have no end. It’s always reminded me of home. Not LA or anywhere else I’ve been posted. Scotland. Cold, quiet, and untouched in a way that makes the rest of the world feel miles away.

And for a long time, this was the closest thing I had to it.

Was.

My grip tightens on the wheel as I pull through the gates onto Cooper’s massive property, tires crunching over gravel. Two new plots sit off to the side, half-built frames cutting into the blank canvas where there’d been nothing the last time I was here six months ago.

I cut off the engine and sit in the car, the rain tapping the roof, heavier than before. It’s the first time I’ve been away from Thea since I moved across the hall. One night, first flight back in the morning—the shortest trip I could manage to do this properly. Reaching for my phone, I unlock it and pull up her name.

Me

Just arrived. How are my girls?

It doesn’t take long for the reply. It never does.

Thea

We’re good. She’s been kicking all morning.

Found the bag of coffee beans on the counter after you left… Thank you.

Me

Couldn’t have you working without your fix.

Thea

Pulling the label off? Really? You want to keep your sources that bad?

A quiet laugh leaves me as I scrub a hand over my jaw.

Me

Enjoy the coffee, sweetheart.

Thea

See you when you get back.

One night. That’s it. Then I’m back where I’m supposed to be.

Shoving my phone into my pocket, I push the door open and step out into the rain. Gunner’s already outside, leaning against the stone wall, one boot propped up, arms folded, eyes moving across the grounds. He clocks me before I’ve even taken two steps, a slow grin pulling at his mouth.

“Highlander,” he calls out, lowering his foot and heading over. We meet halfway, clasping hands and pulling each other into a quick, solid grip that turns into a shoulder check.

“Good to see you,” he says, slapping my back.

“You too.” I give him a once-over, noting the relaxed stance, eyes still moving around the perimeter, the easy confidence of someone who’s found his rhythm. “Cooper still behaving himself?”

“Sweetest gig I’ve had.” He falls into step beside me toward the house. “He’s no trouble, appreciates what needs doing, doesn’t push back on it. Asks a lot of questions, though, mostly about my personal life, but I can live with that.” He jerks his chin back up the drive. “You good if I stay put in your house while you’re back? Or I can clear out, give you your space?”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’ve got a hotel for the night.”

“Sweet,” he says, already jogging backward, slicking his hair back from the rain. “Good to see you, Lockie. Let’s catch up properly sometime, yeah?”

I nod, watching until he disappears, then head inside. Kicking off my boots, I shrug off my jacket, hanging it in the entryway as voices carry from the kitchen. Ziggy’s in his highchair, covered in something red and sticky, wee hands slapping the tray between bouts of giggling at the mess he’s made. Cooper’s beside him, one hand braced on the counter, the other holding a spoon the kid’s clearly decided is entirely optional when hands exist.

“About time,” he says, the second I step through the door.