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She closed her eyes and kept them that way. ‘My sister was unwell. She’d been unwell for a long time, and...’ a tear slid down her cheek ‘...felt that no one was listening. She took her own life.’
The words finished with a sob and he pulled her forward into his arms.
He didn’t speak. He knew there was nothing he could say right now that would help. She’d told him hardly anyone knew and she didn’t really talk about it, so this had been building up in her for a long time. Pain didn’t lessen with time, often it was amplified. Often it became even more raw than it had been before.
He hated Kristie feeling that way, so he stayed there and he held her, stroking her hair and her back softly until she was finally all cried out.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.
She lifted her head and tilted her face towards his. ‘You said we were friends,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Are we friends? Because what I’m feeling... I don’t feel that way about a friend.’
He could feel his heart thudding in his chest. It was almost as if she’d been reading his mind for the past two months—ever since they’d sat on that log together. Since they’d shared that kiss. ‘How do you feel?’
She reached up and touched the side of his face. ‘How many people have you looked after in your house?’ she asked.
‘None.’
‘How many people have you made chicken soup for?’ She tilted her head and smiled at him.
He couldn’t help but return that smile. ‘None.’
She slid her hand up around his neck. ‘Then I’m going to take it for granted that all of this...’ she paused ‘...means something.’
‘I think you could be right,’ he whispered as he bent forward and finally put his lips on hers.
And all of sudden everything felt right.
CHAPTER SEVEN
November
‘I’M SORRY, MISS. That’s the just the way is it. We’ve cancelled the ferries for the rest of today. We can’t take them out in a storm like this. We’d never get docked on the other side, it’s not safe for the passengers or the crew.’
She could feel panic start to creep up her chest.
‘But you’ll sail tomorrow, won’t you?’
He shook his head. ‘Not likely. The storm’s forecast to be even worse tomorrow. And it’s to last the next day too. It could be Thursday before the ferries are sailing again.’
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t miss filming—not because of the show but because, if she didn’t film, she didn’t get to spend time with Rhuaridh. The guy she’d been counting down the last four weeks for. The guy she’d been texting every day. And most nights.
Gerry shook his head. ‘Louie won’t be happy with this. We’ll need to use whatever unused footage we have.’ He made a bit of a face and walked away.
The man at the ferry terminal gave her a shrug. ‘Sorry, it only usually happens around twice a year. Storms get so bad no one can get off or on the island.’
‘But there must be another way? A smaller boat? A helicopter? What if there’s a medical emergency?’
The man gave her a look. ‘To take a smaller boat out in this weather would be suicide. As for emergencies, everyone on the island knows that this can sometimes happen. If the doc can’t fix it, it can’t be fixed.’
She stepped back. He’d got her with that word. Suicide. She’d been desperate. She’d been ready to run around the harbour to try and charter a smaller boat. But she wouldn’t do that now. Not after that word.
She looked out through the glass at the ferry terminal. She couldn’t even see Arran on the horizon, just the mass of grey swirling storm, and hear the thud of the pouring rain.
Another month without seeing Rhuaridh again?
It had never seemed so long.
CHAPTER EIGHT
December
HE WAS WAITING at the ferry terminal. It was ridiculous. She would be driving the hire car but he still wanted to see her. Two months. Two months since their second kiss.
Sometimes he felt guilty, thinking he’d taken advantage. But from the stream of messages they’d exchanged since then, there had been no indication that she thought that.
