Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Shit.
Arran glowered. “Got a text from him that you ignored Monroe when she approached you in his store tonight. That you walked out without a word. Will said Monroe looked like you’d slapped her.”
Wee prick. “Got your spies watching me?”
“You know what this place is like, Brodan. Don’t pretend you don’t. Someone is always watching.”
“Well, isn’t that creepy?” I drawled.
Arran sighed. “I thought you and I were past this. I thought you weren’t pissed off at me anymore about what happened all those years back, but what you said a few weeks ago at the Gloaming has really been bothering me. You’re still holding that drunken night with Roe against me.”
I cut him an annoyed look. “I am not. Aye, there’s no denying I was angry at the time, but it was only because you fucking Monroe was like you’d fucked my sister.” Lie. Bloody lie. “I’m not angry now. I’m over it.” Honestly, I didn’t know one way or the other if that was the truth.
Arran scoffed. “If that were true, you’d still be talking to Monroe, not treating her like she doesn’t even exist.” I heard the censure in his voice and looked away. “Fergus slept with Arro behind our backs when she wasn’t even legal, and we all forgave him and her. Of course, that was before we knew he was a sociopath.”
Flinching at the reminder that my friend had turned on my family, had taken his beef with me out on them, I glared out at the dark sea. “Is it possible to catch up with my brother without him bringing up people who don’t matter anymore?”
“If she didn’t matter, you wouldn’t be so furious with her.”
“Arran … leave it.”
“She’s not had it easy.” My brother pushed. “Right now, she’s looking after her mum, and from what I remember, that woman was a witch to Monroe.”
I remembered. I’d wanted Monroe to move out as soon as she turned eighteen. Dad had even agreed to let her stay at the castle, but Roe was too prideful to do it.
“She’s living in Gordon’s caravan and winter is rolling in. She’ll be freezing her arse off out there, but she won’t accept a better place to live. I’ve tried.”
So she was still too prideful. I refused to picture her in a caravan by the water during the harsh Highland winter.
“Why do you care so much?” I asked lazily, as if I didn’t care that Arran cared.
My brother yanked on my arm, drawing my gaze back to his. He stared at me incredulously. “Because she’s my friend. I’ve known her my whole life. Because she’s a good person. And once upon a time, you would have died before letting anything happen to her. Do you even remember that?”
Rage flushed through me, but I controlled it. I turned it to ice in my veins. “Things change,” I told my brother flatly. “I haven’t thought about Monroe Sinclair in almost eighteen years. She means nothing to me. I couldn’t care less where she’s living or what she’s dealing with. She could fall off the face of the planet, and I wouldn’t notice.”
Arran curled his upper lip, and I tried not to wince against his disdain. “When did you turn into such a callous bastard?”
He walked away, slipping inside the house, before I could say another word.
Teeth grinding, I turned back to the sea and closed my eyes, listening to the waves crash, trying to find the peace I’d had before my youngest brother pushed my buttons.
I couldn’t.
All I could think about was the cold trying to burrow through my long-sleeved tee. And then all I could think about was Monroe, freezing and unprotected in a caravan anyone could break into. Only a few years ago, Fergus had broken into the one Robyn was staying in and attacked her with a knife.
The thought made my chest tighten.
Robyn had survived.
And Roe would survive a winter alone in a caravan.
She was made of stern stuff.
She’d be fine.
8
Brodan
THE PAST
* * *
As much as I was enjoying my time in St. Andrews, I had to admit I missed the hell out of Ardnoch. I didn’t know if it was being away from the Highlands in general, or if it was missing the people who made home home. That included Monroe. It hadn’t gotten easier.
We’d both just started our second year at uni, and leaving her again after weeks of hanging out was utter rubbish. So I was excited as fuck to come home for the weekend and see her. Being apart from her for weeks on end was rough. Not knowing how she was or what she was getting up to agitated me. We checked in all the time, we texted daily, and we called each other every week, but it wasn’t the same. She and I had been joined at the hip since we were five years old. Being away from her was like missing a limb.