Page 103 of Kilt Trip

She leaves her lover crushed for the rest of his days, combing the beaches for any sign of her. What a fool Logan had been to hope she’d stay.

Standing and brushing off his jeans, he moved to a bench on the promenade to empty the sand from his shoes. He wasn’t getting anywhere, freezing his arse off, waiting to catch another glimpse of her.

She was gone.

Logan pressed his fingers into his eyes. He needed the steady assurance of an older brother’s company. And probably a drink. Logan had picked a fight because he couldn’t face the possibility that Addie might leave, but Jack had been right all along. Logan swallowed his pride, grabbing his phone and dialing.

“Hi, ye wee bawbag.” Jack’s greeting sounded cautious, lacking the usual humor, but maybe that was just Logan.

“Want to go to the pub?”

“Aye. I’ll meet you there.”

Head bowed against the wind, Logan almost missed the entrance. He pulled open the door, and the familiar smell of stale beer and mildewed carpet hit him. The band set up in the corner, and the tellies were all on this afternoon. He gave a half-hearted wave to the old men gathered round the table where he and Addie had sat that first day.

She was gone, but she was still everywhere.

He found Jack at their usual seats at the bar next to the kitchen window, tugging off his coat and scarf in the humid room. Jack pulled Logan in for a quick hug, the unusual affection cushioning the jagged pieces of his shattered heart, a comforting assurance that things would be alright between them. It wasn’t the first time Logan had been a dick and Jack forgave him. Or vice versa.

Jack’s overaggressive backslap sent Logan staggering—a step in the right direction.

He hung his coat on the hooks under the bar top while Jack stared at one of the many TVs littering the walls. “I ordered for you. This round’s on me,” Jack said with a wink—Gavin always let them drink for free—and pushed a tumbler across the wooden bar.

Logan took a sip, settling onto the high-backed stool. The comforting sounds of the pub washed over him. This place wasn’t trying to be cutting-edge, wasn’t always evolving. People loved it the way it was, with sticky menus, and overplayed footie matches, and dusty books skirting the perimeter of the ceiling.

He shifted in his seat to face Jack. “I’m sorry I snapped at you before. I know you were only trying to help,” Logan said.

“I think I had that conversation with the wrong person.”

Logan studied the live-sports schedule written out in multicolored chalk. Everything Jack had said was true: he was simply too late with his warning. “No, you were right. I truly believed there was some way to have a future with her.” But he couldn’t build a life with someone who didn’t believe in him, who left him to fend for himself, who would always put work first. He took a tentative breath and tried to regain some composure. To not let Jack see he was suffocating.

“She seemed fairly destroyed when she left. In fact, you owe me nachos for the horrible night’s sleep I got with her smashing around and packing at three in the morning. You should see the state of the flat. Mum has nothing on Addie’s cleaning abilities.”

Logan had pictured her angrily rolling Frank down the uneven pavement, a wheel breaking off and stubbing her toe when she kicked the hardside.

Surely crying always accompanied a midnight cleaning bender for Addie, but that image didn’t track with the way things ended. It left too much space in his heart for hope. He scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to wipe away that doubt.

Jack fiddled with his coaster. “She thinks you don’t want her, and I don’t know if I’m the one to blame for seeding this—”

“That wasn’t the problem.” Logan wanted her.

“Then, why aren’t you on a plane right now?”

“I’d like to wallow in self-pity a while longer, if you don’t mind.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow, and a swell of anger rose up in Logan. Why was Jack always so intent on pushing him?

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying? She cleared out of your flat. She got on an airplane. She’s gone.” Logan yanked his bracelet like loosening the leather could free him from the tightening in his chest, cinching down and cutting off his oxygen supply. “Once again, I pictured a life with people who weren’t interested and left me to fail on my own.” He always did like learning his lessons the hard way.

Jack winced. “Logan. We didn’t leave you to fail—”

“Didn’t you?” The whisky burned down Logan’s throat. This wasn’t a fight he should be starting. He was here to fix things with Jack, not pick at old wounds. But everything hurt so much, it clawed to get out by whatever means necessary.

“Alright, let’s have this out, then.” Jack crossed his arms. “Do you think I don’t feel guilty for leaving? Like I let you and Dad down? I do. But I wasn’t happy. Can you try to understand? It was preordained that I take over the family business with my brothers. This life was made for you, but I forced myself into it because no one gave me any other choice.”

Logan never considered how many of those expectations Jack fought against. The pained look on his face doused the fire burning in Logan’s belly.

Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I wanted so badly to feel that exhilaration you two had, to throw myself into guiding, but being on the road made me feel unsettled and distant. Like I was missing out on my life back home every time I stepped on the coach. You don’t know how many times I thought, Something must be wrong with me. Look at them and how much they love this.”

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