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“You and Fin,” I say, urging them to return to better, happier times. “Remember? Remember how good you were?”
“I remember punishing him,” Luke drawls, and Finlay bristles at this recollection. Punishment. No — it had been anything but, as Finlay had fallen to his knees and worshiped Luke in the truest act of absolution, gentle fingers tying his messy hair, framing Finlay in place like a photograph of a scene its participants had never wanted to end.
“No. No, that isn’t what happened. You can pretend otherwise but you remember how it unfolded. I know you do.”
“Think he should suckmeaff for a change after a’ the crap he’s put me through,” Finlay mutters darkly to me.
“Coming fromyou?” Luke snaps. “Who the hell’s fault is it I’m stuck here in the first place?” And I’ve had it. I’vehadit. I slam my palms between their chests as they snarl at each other, hackles raised like rival wolves.
Luke seems to realize he’s stepped out of line. In a bitter voice, he says, “I apologize. Toyou.” It isn’t addressed to Finlay. “I am so unbelievably sick of this place. In secretly being sheltered in a property belonging to Oscar Munro —again. I had no desire to leave the country of my birth, but if this is the reality… at least abroad I’d have my liberty.”
I stroke Luke’s back tenderly. He’s hurting. It radiates from him, the way his heart has been bludgeoned by pain, the way he’s lashing out. Being so alone after his mother’s death… It seems obvious now but agreeing to Luke’s plan to leave Lochkelvin is possibly the worst thing we could have done. We should have left with him.Iwould have left with him.
Hesitantly, I reach over to pluck the dagger from his hand, lowering it onto a metallic block near the other sharpened weapons. I wonder if, in his confinement, Luke has been spared a moment without weapons.
“Hogmanay’s tomorrow,” I tell him with a tentative smile, and for one shallow moment, I’m thrilled at my pronunciation. It had been a long car journey with Finlay teaching me different words in Scots and Gaelic. “Fin told me there’s a huge street party here. We could go out, have fun?”
Luke shoots me a baleful stare. “Are you joking?” His hand is still raised and curled, as though the ghost of the dagger is enough to protect him.
“It was sold-oot months ago,” Finlay states carefully, “but we could still see the fireworks from the rooftop.That’dbe enclosed.”
“Do youwanta sniper to pick me off?” Luke snaps. “Is that your master plan? I haven’t even gone up there myself. I don’t wantanyoneto know there’s someone here.”
“Have you gone outside? Have you exercised at all?”
“I’ve been training non-stop,” Luke growls. “I’ve also incorporated the many staircases here into my exercise regime. There are alotof stairs.”
I’ve never heard anyone speak about staircases with quite so much dark rage.
“And fresh air?” Finlay probes. “‘Cause I think ye’re sufferin’ from the effects o’, ah, goin’fuckin’ mental. Whit shite has MacKechnie been teachin’ ye?”
Luke raises his chin, eyeing Finlay defiantly. “To trust no one.”
“Whit, trust no one but him?” Finlay sneers.
“No, not even him. He’s very good in that regard, very thorough. And so I do. I keep to myself and I trust no one now. It’s better that way.”
I’m at a loss. He’s closed himself off so completely — and while that had always been the intention of the safe house, it had never meant to apply to us. “We’ve missed you,” I whisper. “Danny and Rory have missed you, too. Why can’t you see that we’re here for you?”
Luke shakes his head. “I need to prioritize myself. I’m not sorry about it. You must realize — the people who have wronged me before are now at the very bottom of my list. So if it means I have to sacrifice my ties to you to survive…” He swallows and doesn’t finish the sentence, instead drifting over to the wooden plaque on the wall and wrenching another dagger free.
“Right,” Finlay drawls with a slow nod of understanding. “So I suck ye aff andthat’sthe moment you choose tae start ghostin’ me. Classic, Luke. Whit a rug-pull! Never expected that particular brand o’ fuckboy energy from ye.” He pauses, glancing around the room in distaste. “We’ll let ye get on wi’… whitever it is ye’re daein’ here. When you’re finished bein’ a complete twat, some broodin’ wee psycho-boy playin’ wi’ knives, we’ll be here for you. As per fuckin’ usual.”
“We’ll give you time,” I offer more diplomatically instead, with a placating smile. Honey is a more effective tool than vinegar, after all, and I imagine Finlay’s spiteful speech will be doing little to persuade Luke to loosen up around us. As we close the door behind us, there’s the echo of a dagger being thrown vengefully into the wooden plaque. I flinch at the suddenthwack.
“This must be a big change to his routine, having us here.”
“Ye’re too forgivin’, sassenach. He’s gone mad. Cabin fever.”
“He isn’t mad. But he’s like a caged animal in here…” I sigh, my feet automatically knowing which direction to turn. It had been fun in here once — but the ghost of our summertime laughter has faded from these halls. Hesitantly, I add, “I thought we’d get here and he’d be excited to see us. That we’d fall into bed together. That he’d have missed us.” My words feel embarrassingly naive. Maybe Luke would have been more receptive if Rory and Danny had been here instead of us.
Finlay’s hand runs lightly down the side of my arm. “Wecan still dae that.”
I shake my head. “Everything here feels wrong.”
Finlay gives a slow nod, his eyes searching around the place where we spent so many long, happy weeks together. “Aye, ye’re right enough,” he sighs. “Noo Luke’s fuckin’ cock-blockin’ me an’ a’. It’s fine. He gets like this sometimes, when he remembers who he is. Curse o’ bein’ the fuckin’ chosen one. Heavy existential crisis. I have a feelin’ he’ll be back tae himself once he realizes whit a tit he’s been. He cannae keep up the broodin’ facade thing too long.”
When I raise my eyebrow at Finlay, he gives me a tired smile.
