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He nods. “Two. Both good, dutiful sons following in my da’s footsteps.”

“Ah.” I’m starting to get a picture here. “That’s tough.”

“My da is a hard man. He expects obedience and loyalty above all else. In his eyes…I haven’t been very good at either.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, meaning it. I can’t imagine not growing up with the support I did. “For what it’s worth, I think your job sounds really cool.”

His lips turn up in a grin. “Appreciate that.”

There’s another lingering silence that only just begins to feel awkward, and I can’t pretend the questions aren’t bubbling up inside me.

“Okay, but have you ever found any cool stuff? Old family scandals or something?”

“And what sort of scandals would I be finding, pray tell?”

“I don’t know! Do you have some sort of secret proof lying around that the Loch Ness Monster actually exists? Like…are you the Scottish equivalent of the FBI guys covering up Area 51?”

A laugh spills out of him. “You have a wild imagination, cousin.”

“Sounds pretty evasive, if you ask me,” I answer slyly.

“I’ve found some interesting things,” he admits. “Nothing so fantastic as that, unfortunately.”

“Bummer.”

“Aye, it is.”

With every lull in the conversation, the nerves creep back in, the gravity of this day weighing down on me like a tangible thing. I twist my hands in my lap, biting my lip to try and stop the question that’s rolling around inside, but it’s useless really. I can’t help myself.

“Do you think Rhona hates me?”

Brodie lets out a sigh, seeming to consider the question. “Rhona is…She can be hard sometimes. Even when I was a lad, she was always sort of…stern. My mum used to say she just missed her boy. I imagine it’s hard seeing you after she lost him.” He nods to himself. “But I don’t think she hates you. I just think she’s coming to terms with things.”

“That’s…good? I can live with that. Hopefully.”

“You’ll be all right, mate,” Brodie assures me. He flashes me a smile. “Even better after that drink, aye?”

I laugh despite the uneasiness still lingering in my stomach. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Idolet the silence linger then, contenting myself with staring out the window as we creep across the green countryside toward town. I roll Brodie’s words around in my head, weighing them, hoping that he’s right.

Especially since the alternative is that one of the only real connections I have left to my dad might always hate my guts.

4

Lachlan

The rain is still pelting down on the slate roof of the pub, and I shake off as much of the water clinging to my jacket and hair as I can before stepping through the door of The Clever Pech. It’s a bit emptier inside than I thought it would be on a Friday afternoon—no one but auld Fergus doing a crossword in his resident corner booth and the twins chattering behind the bar inside. Blair notices me as I come in, elbowing Rory and gesturing my way just before Rory bellows out a greeting.

“Oi! There he is. Pissin’ down out there, is it? You look soaked to the bone, mate.”

“Aye,” I offer back, shuffling across the old wooden floor to slide onto one of the stools at the bar. “Bloody freezing too.”

Blair nods toward the shelf behind her. “You want your usual, then, eh?”

“Please,” I answer.

I grew up with Blair and Rory Campbell before moving away after my granny died, and despite the years between then and my move back earlier in the year—the bond between us didn’t diminish in the slightest. But that could partly be because the twins are borderline insane, and they adopt people like stray cats. They’re both tall,not quite my height but close, and their matching platinum hair is a shade so light, it appears silver under the sun. But their good looks are just a front for the slightly unhinged personalities beneath—personalities that got me into trouble on more than one occasion in my youth.