Page 102 of Kilt Trip

Addie: When’s your project finished?

Devika: Two weeks-ish?

Addie: Want to visit? My room has two beds.

Her distress call was the equivalent of a camper calling her parents to pick her up on night one, and Addie pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She was a grown-up, dammit.

But there was nothing wrong with needing a friend. And she did need her friend.

Devika: Yes! Will you still be in Edinburgh?

Addie: Amsterdam

She couldn’t string any more words together. Couldn’t talk about it.

Boss Babe lit up her phone, and she silenced the call.

Addie: Can’t yet.

Devika’s text came in a second later.

Devika: I’ll be there.

Addie simply needed to get back out there. Get back to exploring. Get back to work.

All this reverse culture shock would wear off eventually.

Everything would go back to how it used to be.

43

The frigid streets of Edinburgh, shrouded in mist and silence, became Logan’s only refuge. He prowled through the city in the early mornings when he’d given up any hope of sleeping. He almost wished for someone to jump out and knife him, to make the pain inside match something he could grapple with, but no one so much as looked at him sideways.

The deranged laughter must have been inside his head. He’d actually believed in a future with Addie.

Logan spent the day on the beach, even though he’d told himself not to. He sat on the frozen ground, the cold sand spreading between his fingers, knowing what it would do to him and wallowing in it anyway. The words she’d said clanged around and drowned out everything else.

I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this.

Does your heart feel like mine?

When she’d said them, it felt like a declaration, a promise, and a future.

But now he could see how she’d hedged those words, and he cursed himself for being so naive. For hearing what he wanted to.

The intimacy of meeting new people on trips, of getting to know their hearts and their openness if only for a few days, must have watered down what he knew of human nature.

People were self-serving. Always.

The universe seemed intent on making sure he didn’t forget.

He ran his fingers through the stiff sand, flipping a bottle cap he found over his fingers. Out in the water, a shiny gray dome bobbed at the surface before slipping away with a quiet splash.

A selkie.

Logan’s heart slid underwater like the seal, sinking to the bottom. He’d known from the very first moment.

A selkie always returns to the sea.

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