Page 74 of Scotch on the Rocks

His head snapped up, purposeful strides wavering as he found me all too easily on the busy street, like he’d done so a thousand times before. An old dance our muscles had memorised long ago, then forgotten to alert our brains when the rhythm changed.

I didn’t know why I’d spoken his name, drawn attention to myself. The shock, most likely, because when his feet changed direction, heading right for me, his expression shifting from pensive to elated in a heartbeat, I was certain this was nothing more than a bizarre out-of-body experience. I’d almost forgotten Callum entirely, until his elbow brushed mine and then all I could think about was the scrap of space between us.

“June?” Alistair spoke my name the way you’d address an old friend you hoped to see again but hadn’t expected the reunion to happen quite so soon.

From behind round glasses, he ate up the sight of me, calculating the changes from the tips of my thick-soled shoes to my hair that was six inches shorter than it had been the last time we’d spoken. When he’d told me through a video call, guilt-ridden and teary-eyed, that I didn’t need to return the engagement ring. As though the four-carat diamond were a suitable consolation prize for losing the man you loved.

His hair was shorter too. Shorter than I’d ever seen it.His shoulders were broader, ready to burst the seams of his thick navy jumper.

He looked good.

I hated that I noticed and compared, because Callum lookedbetter.

Alistair paused an arm’s length away, a tentative smile softening the set of his harsh lips. “Hey.”

Hey.

Six years of nothing broken with three letters. They weren’t even the good ones.

I’d planned for this moment, replaying the imagined back and forth over and over. The ways I’d make him beg. Make him crawl. Now he stood before me and I couldn’t utter a single word.

His smile dipped uncertainly, turning into a frown as he glanced to Callum. “Cal, good to see you.” If Alistair found our proximity strange, I saw no hint of it as he pulled Callum into a back-slapping hug.

Callum’s posture remained a little stiff, but when he drew back, he was smiling, cupping Alistair’s cheeks as though he were seven years old. “Why didn’t you say you were coming?”

Alistair shifted, eyes cast down, and I remembered why he’d always refused to play cards. He couldn’t lie for shit. “I managed to wrangle some time off last minute, figured I’d surprise you.”

“You look tired,” Callum observed, taking in Alistair’s longer than usual facial hair and dark smudges beneath his eyes. And it was with a wash of relief I realised the urge to comfort, to wrap my arms around his middle and kiss the sharp point of his chin no longer existed.

“I’m fine,” he lied again. Speaking to Callum but looking at me.

My heart raced.

“Heather’s going to die when she sees you, the twins too – wait, where are you staying?”

“I haven’t decided. With Mum and Dad most likely …”

Their words faded in a hum as a different feeling settled, tight and uncomfortable like a vine curling around my chest. Alistair’s eyes kept finding mine, searching for something I didn’t know how to give. And Callum … Callum didn’t look at me once.

My scalp prickled, entire body going hot. My breaths turned choppy. Doubling, until the space of one became two.

You’re hyperventilating,the tiny, aware part of my brain warned. Unable to make the connection to my lungs.

I have to get out of here.

Black smudged the edges of my vision. I turned and stumbled – feet heavy as I tripped along the street without a word.

“Juniper!” Callum shouted. I kept going. Clawing at the zip on my jacket. I rounded the corner. Tarmac giving way to gravel. The sandstone village hall stood proud like a proverbial white flag.

Five steps. My car was five steps away.

I dug through my bag, searching for my keys.

Four steps.

Callum skidded to a stop in front of me. Both hands raised as though herding a wounded animal. “Juniper, just wait – are you?” He paled, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Are you crying?”

Was I?I swiped at my cheeks, stunned to find my hands came away wet. “I’m not bloody crying,” I spat, though we could both clearly see the remnants of tears. I hated every stupid one of them.

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