He was desperate to hold her in his arms, but she continued to stare at him as though he were a stranger.
Inexplicably, her gaze hardened. ‘Didyouknow?’
‘Did I know what?’ He lowered himself gingerly down beside her, then flinched as she edged away.
‘About my dad?’
She wasn’t making sense. ‘Freya, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘His Parkinson’s,’ she spat. ‘Did you know?’
‘Parkinson’s?’
‘He’s got Parkinson’s disease and he didn’t bloody tell me.’
Mack shook his head slowly. ‘No, I didn’t know. How long has he—?’
‘No bloody idea. The damned GP surgery wouldn’t tell me anything.’ She barked out a bitter laugh. ‘They should have, considering I only found out because the receptionist slipped up big time.’
‘What does your dad say?’
Another laugh. It ended on a sob.
He inched closer, and this time she didn’t move away. He desperately wanted to comfort her but feared she might reject him.
‘I haven’t spoken to him,’ she muttered.
At the risk of getting his head bitten off, he said gently, ‘Don’t you think you should?’
Freya rounded on him, her eyes flashing fury. ‘Don’t you think he should have told me? I shouldn’t have had to find out like this.’
Mack took a deep breath. ‘I expect he didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Do you know anything about Parkinson’s?’
‘Not a lot,’ he admitted.
Freya stared up at the sky, blinking hard. ‘It’s a progressive, degenerative disease and it’s probably why he fell.’ Tears trickled down her face. ‘He isn’t going to get better; he’s going to get worse. And the stupid old bugger didn’t tell me because he knew what I would do. What I’m going to do.’
‘Which is?’
‘Stay here and look after him. For however long it takes, no matter what it takes.’ Her tears turned into noisy sobs, her body shaking with the force of them, and Mack gathered her to him.
It was as he held her tight, her damp face on his shoulder, that he understood that she wasn’t going to leave Skye after all. She was going to stay in Duncoorie.
And to his shame, his heart soared with the hope that maybe, given time, she might come to love him the way he loved her.
Freya paused outside Jean’s door as Mack was about to go inside. After her crying jag had eased, he’d walked back home with her, and she hoped his mother had some dry clothes he could fit into.
‘I’m sorry I snapped at you,’ she said, noticing the goosebumps speckling his arms and chest. His hair was still wet, and she could see a faint dusting of salt on his skin. He must be freezing.
‘It’s OK.’
‘You didn’t have to jump in. I wasn’t in any danger.’
‘You were sobbing your heart out,’ he replied. ‘Was I supposed to ignore it?’
‘Are you sure you won’t let me drive you home?’