Page 88 of Kilt Trip

Jabbing the End Call button, she sank to a cross-legged seat on the rocky shore. Ran her hands along the rocks. Picked up one after another and tossed them across the glassy lake where they all sank straight to the bottom.

Her throat burned with unshed tears. Tears she’d promised herself she was done with. But the impulsive conversation tore away all the distance between her and her father. Maybe a bigger person would’ve been happy for him or, at the very least, followed the path of light exposed through the newly cracked door. But she wanted to kick the door closed so hard it shattered and her dad felt the pain of a million splinters lodged in his skin.

His voice, his small apology for a big betrayal, reduced her to the lonely and heartbroken girl she had been. She hated him even more for it. Resented the hell out of the childish longing she had naively assumed would stay safely buried in the face of a rekindled connection.

She’d done everything in her power to avoid feeling this way for so long. She’d opened herself up to this conversation, to this hope, to this version of herself she was becoming with Logan, and her dad had ruined it.

Addie took quick breaths until she was light-headed, her mind buckling under the weight.

Logan appeared, worry etched around his eyes, and lifted her into his arms. “I’ve got you.” Trying to shoulder her pain.

But this was too raw to share.

She couldn’t feel her fingers. She was too numb to tell if it was even from the cold.

Logan led her back to the car in silence.

The open sky at the lake had been wide enough to contain all Addie’s emotions, but inside the stifling car they crammed in around her, pushing and throwing elbows.

The trees opened up as Logan turned back onto the motorway and she stared down the dark lane.

“Want to talk about it?”

Addie studied Logan’s profile, a moving picture of concern, lit from the dashboard glow.

She didn’t want him to make it worse. And she didn’t want him to make it better.

“He doesn’t know where the last picture was taken.”

Logan reached out and squeezed her knee. “Lass. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don’t need it. This weekend was perfect.”

And it had been. For a while. But that giddy hopefulness was sucked farther into the fairy realm the closer they got to the city, replaced by a deep sense of foreboding.

This thing with Logan—comfortable, warm, safe—this place that welcomed her with open arms...felt suddenly dangerous. Like it could be snatched away at any moment.

She wanted Edinburgh to be home with a fierce longing. But when had wanting ever been enough?

35

Jack looked up from the TV when Logan opened the door to their flat carrying Addie’s suitcase. His eyebrows pinched together. Logan wasn’t sure if she’d told him what they were doing this weekend, but Jack could put two and two together.

“Hey, Jack!” Addie sounded unusually chipper, like she was forcing herself into a good mood. Most of the drive back had been in silence. Logan gave her space, holding her hand while she processed the very real possibility that the location of Heather’s picture was lost to time.

Surely there were feelings mixed up in there over speaking to her dad. She’d downplayed it, of course, but it took immense courage to embark on a path of forgiveness. Logan was proud of her. And so bloody hopeful that she’d push herself with him, too.

“How was the weekend?”

“Dull.” Jack stood up from the couch and stretched. “Yours?”

“We figured out the future of The Heart.”

The fact that Addie had called her dad after their trip had kicked Logan’s confidence into high gear. This was the right direction for his future. Their tours could inspire, could connect people, not just to his country but to something bigger.

“Clan tours,” she said, stretching all the vowels in her terrible accent. “Find your Scottish roots—”

“Is this an Australian accent?” Jack asked, looking at Logan with wide eyes while gesturing to Addie.

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