Page 13 of Of Heather and Thistle

H eather swiped her cheeks with trembling fingers as she walked briskly down the busy street.

The cold air bit at her skin, but she barely noticed because her mind was a swirling mess of anger, humiliation, and heartbreak.

She just needed to get home and crawl into bed.

She’d figure out how to be strong again tomorrow.

“Where to?” the driver asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Heather gave him her apartment address, her voice quiet and unsteady. She leaned back against the seat, clutching her bag to her chest as she stared out the window. The streetlights blurred into yellow and white streaks; her tears clouded her vision again.

She let out a shaky breath as the cab pulled away from the curb.

The night’s chaos clung to her like a second skin, but now, at least, she was moving away from it.

By the time the cab reached her apartment, the raw ache in her chest had dulled into a heavy, hollow weight.

She paid the driver, mumbled a thank you, and stepped out into the night.

Her apartment building loomed ahead, and she walked toward it with slow, deliberate steps, barely walking into her apartment before her phone buzzed.

Ivy.

Her stomach twisted as she stared at the screen. Her hands were still shaking. Her breath was still unsteady. She almost let it go to voicemail. Almost. Instead, she swiped to answer, putting it on speaker but saying nothing.

Ivy’s voice came through, bright and expectant, completely oblivious to the storm she was about to walk into.

“Okay, spill! Where are you? I thought you were coming back here! You’re totally ghosting me, aren’t you?

Ugh! —that means it was good… W ait, was it really good?

!” Ivy giggled. “Do I need to get the ice cream ready, or should we be blocking his number?!”

Heather stayed silent and then Ivy’s laugh faltered. “…Heather?”

Heather finally spoke, her voice like ice: “ You tell me.”

There was a beat of silence, then Ivy let out a nervous chuckle: “Uh… what?”

Heather’s grip tightened on the phone. “You said you’d never spoken to him, Ivy. ”

The words dropped like a stone.

Another pause.

Then, Ivy let out a forced laugh, breezy and dismissive: “Wait, what? …Who?”

Heather’s jaw clenched. “Sam.”

Dead silence.

Ivy recovered too quickly : “Oh my God— …is that what this is about? …Heather, come on… —what— …you think I had some secret meeting with him or something?”

Heather stayed quiet.

Ivy’s voice pitched higher, her laugh sharper: “Oh my God— wait… Did he say something weird to you? …Ugh, I knew he was kinda awkward. Bookish guys always are… What did he say? …Because if he made you uncomfortable, I swear I’ll—”

“—Stop.” Heather cut her off.

Another beat of silence.

Heather exhaled— a humorless, exhausted laugh escaping her lips. “You’re actually going to lie to my face right now.”

Now Ivy panicked: “Heather, no—hold on—what are you even talking about? Where is this coming from?!”

Heather’s pulse roared in her ears. “I talked to him, Ivy. …I know! ”

A dramatic silence stretched out between them that felt like the death of their friendship.

Then Ivy did the inevitable—s he tried to spin it. “Heather, babe, I don’t know what he told you, but you seriously need to consider the source.”

Heather closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe before she snapped.

“I’m supposed to believe you over him ? ”

Ivy latched onto it immediately. “Exactly!” She let out a breathy, almost relieved laugh, like she still thought she could salvage this.

“ He’s obviously twisting things, babe. He likes you—I mean…

duh… why wouldn’t he? …But guys do this all the time, you know?

They make it seem like the girl was all over them just to look cool. It’s honestly pathetic.”

Heather shook her head slowly. “…Ivy…”

“…What?!” Ivy’s voice was getting tighter, more desperate now. “…Girl, you know I’d never do anything to hurt you! Why are you letting some random guy mess with your head?!”

Heather inhaled sharply through her nose. “You said you’d never spoken to him.”

Ivy huffed. “I hadn’t!”

Heather’s voice dropped. “Then how did you know to suggest I go out with him?”

Checkmate.

Ivy’s breath hitched. Caught. Heather could hear her scrambling, trying to grasp for any excuse, but she had nothing.

Finally, Ivy let out a forced, nervous laugh. “Okay, wait— hold on. This is totally out of context.”

Heather felt something crack inside her. Out of context! Like this was some miscommunication .

Her voice came out hollow: “…So it’s true.”

And now Ivy snapped: “OH MY GOD, HEATHER, WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THIS IS SOME BETRAYAL? …IT WAS JUST A DATE! ”

Heather inhaled sharply. “Just a date?”

“YES!” Ivy’s voice was laced with frustration now, anger replacing her panic. “You’re acting like I sold you off ! …I was trying to help ! …I knew you wouldn’t put yourself out there, so yeah—I gave him a little push .”

Heather let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “A push ?”

Ivy scoffed. “Oh, come on! If I hadn’t said anything, you never would’ve gone out with him.”

Heather’s stomach twisted. “So what did you say, Ivy?”

Silence.

Heather pushed. “You promised him something, didn’t you?”

More silence. And then—another sharp inhale. “Heather, you’re being ridiculous.”

Heather’s chest burned. “Say it.”

Ivy exploded: “FINE! …Yeah! —I promised him something— So what! ”

Heather’s pulse pounded.

Ivy let out an exasperated breath.

“It wasn’t even a big deal, Heather! I told him if he took you out, I’d—” She stopped and let the silence hang between them, then her voice dropped low.

Defensive. Biting. “—You know what? Screw this! —I’m done.

You wanna be mad at me? Fine… But don’t pretend like I forced him to like you.

He could’ve said no. But guess what? He didn’t. ”

Heather’s vision blurred. Ivy wasn’t even sorry.

“You know the worst part?” she asked.

Ivy huffed. “Oh, let me guess—I’m a terrible friend.”

Heather exhaled, her voice calm now. “I actually believed you cared about me.”

That shut Ivy up.

Heather let the words settle; let Ivy feel them .

Then she exhaled. “For years, I thought I needed you—” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t stop. “Turns out—you needed me… You needed to fe el better than me . ”

And then there was silence. Absolute silence.

Heather swallowed, her throat tight.

“Good luck, Ivy. You’re going to need it.”

And then Heather hung up.

Heather tossed her phone onto the couch and stood there in shock with her fists clenched at her sides. Her chest rose and fell with ragged, uneven breaths.

The silence in her apartment pressed against her, thick and suffocating. She could hear the faint bustle of the city outside, distant and unbothered.

Meanwhile, her entire world had just cracked open .

Her whole body was shaking with anger, with hurt, with the sheer force of holding herself back for years.

Ivy? …Ivy! … She had spent years thinking Ivy was the one who truly knew her, the one who had chosen her and stood beside her when no one else had.

Had it all been a fucking lie?

Heather let out a shaky breath, dragging her hands through her curls, gripping at the spiraled strands like she could physically hold herself together.

Her throat felt too tight. She squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the tears from burning their way down her face.

It wasn’t just Ivy. It wasn’t just Sam. It was… all of it.

…It was her father .

Heather let out a sharp breath, pressing her palms into her eyes and thought:

You’re supposed to grieve your dad when he dies. You’re supposed to feel loss—not this sick, tangled mess of a nger and resentment and relief and guilt.

She didn’t miss him. Not really.

She missed the version of him that never existed .

She missed the father who should have been there. The one who should’ve picked her up from school without being half-drunk and furious at the world. The one who should’ve looked at her and seen a daughter, not the ghost of the woman he’d lost.

But he hadn’t been that man—not for a long, long time. And now he never would be.

Heather let out a choked, ragged sob as the weight of it all crashed over her.

She sank down onto the couch, curling in on herself, her body folding like it was trying to disappear. The tears slipped hot and fast down her cheeks, her breath catching on every shaky exhale.

Byrdie, curled up in her usual spot on the windowsill, lifted her head. The cat blinked at her slowly, then hopped down, landing lightly on the armrest.

Heather barely registered it until Byrdie climbed onto her side, pressing her small, warm weight against Heather’s ribs.

Right against the ache.

Heather let out a shuddering breath, the pressure grounding her and crushing her all at once.

Byrdie didn’t purr, didn’t knead or nuzzle—just settled there, steady and silent.

Like she knew.

Heather exhaled sharply, one hand buried in Byrdie’s fur, the other clamped over her mouth as she tried to quiet the grief swallowing her whole.

Heather swallowed back another sob. The movement made Byrdie snuggle tighter with her back legs on either side of Heather’s waist and her front paws and chin on Heather’s chest .

It had all been a lie. Her friendships… her family… her entire damn life.

Ivy had taken what she wanted; Sam had made his choice. And her father had left her behind long before the grave had made it final. They had all done whatever the hell they wanted.

They’d taken enough from her already. Her future wasn’t theirs to claim.

But why was she the one falling apart?

An hour had passed.

The ache in her chest calcified into something else. Something sharp… something cold. She wasn’t going to sit here alone, drowning in everyone else’s damage, one second longer.

She inhaled deeply, her fingers curling into Byrdie’s fur.

She was going to Scotland.