Page 33 of Of Heather and Thistle

H eather kept her eyes on the road, hands tight on the wheel, but her thoughts drifted—to Flynn, to Glenoran, to the whirlwind of the past few days. Everything was happening so fast, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about any of it.

Flynn’s presence had been an unexpected constant, a quiet camaraderie settling between them. She hadn’t expected that—any of this.

As she turned onto the long gravel drive, the sight of Glenoran sent a ripple of nerves through her chest. Anticipation. Uncertainty. The weight of a decision not yet made.

It was hers—technically. But could she really handle it? Or was she walking into something far bigger than she was ready for?

She parked beside Flynn’s truck but stayed in the seat, gripping the wheel with white knuckles, eyes locked on the house. Glenoran stood before her—weathered, waiting. Hers .

A minute later, she opened the door and sighed, “Well… here we are.”

Flynn didn’t reply right away. He climbed out of his truck, shutting the door with a quiet thud. He stood, taking in the house, the land, the sheer weight of it all.

Heather hesitated before finally pushing her door open. “It’s mine,” she said, stepping out onto the gravel. “But I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

Flynn glanced at her, then back at the house, his expression unreadable. “Nobody’s ever ready for something like this.” He leaned against the side of his truck, arms crossed. “But you’re here. That’s the part that matters.”

Heather huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Guess we’ll find out if that’s enough.”

A flicker of amusement passed over his face. “Aye. I guess we will.”

Flynn pushed off the truck, ambling toward her with that easy confidence, nodding toward the house. “You know, Campbell, this place isn’t just a house. It’s a bloody time capsule.”

Heather arched a brow. “A time capsule?”

He smirked. “Aye. Built in 1725. It’s stood through rebellions, betrayals, maybe even hid a few fugitives.

If these walls could talk, they’d have stories older than most countries.

” His gaze drifted over the weathered stone, something thoughtful flickering behind his eyes.

“It’s stood through it all—fights, losses, the rise and fall of names long forgotten. ”

Heather looked back at the house, a new weight settling over her. “And now it’s mine.”

Flynn glanced at her, lips twitching. “Aye. No pressure. ”

She stared at the house, her mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of what Flynn was saying. It wasn’t just an old house. It had been a silent observer of one of the most significant periods in Scottish history. The weight of it settled in her chest like a stone.

How many lives had passed through these halls? How many secrets had these walls swallowed whole? The idea that her family—her blood—had been part of something so monumental made her feel both deeply connected and impossibly small. “I had no idea. That’s… incredible.”

Flynn chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s more than just stone and timber, you know.

” His voice dipped slightly, a quiet reverence threading through it.

“Places like this… they don’t just stand through history.

They carry it. Every wall, every beam—it’s a reminder of a time when people risked everything for what they believed in. ”

His gaze flicked back to her, steady. “If you bring this place back, you’re not just fixing up an old house, Campbell. You’re keeping a piece of Scotland’s past alive.”

Heather shifted, smoothing her hands over her hips, her gaze climbing the stone walls with something like awe.

It was strange—how something so old, so deeply rooted in the past, could suddenly feel like it was reaching for her.

She thought of her mother. Had she known about this?

Had she ever walked through these halls and felt the weight of history pressing down as Heather did now?

She wished she could ask.“I didn’t expect it to be…

so important. So much bigger than I thought. ”

Flynn glanced back at her, his smile easy, steady. “History’s like that—heavy… But yer not in this alone, Campbell. You’ll have help. ”

Heather took a slow breath, her gaze tracing the worn stone, the weathered windows. It wasn’t just an old house—it was a story waiting to be uncovered. She exhaled, glancing at Flynn. “If I’m doing this… I’m glad I don’t have to do it alone.”

Flynn’s grin widened. “Ye won’t be. Not while I’m around.”

Heather’s fingers curled slightly at her sides. The words shouldn’t have meant as much as they did. But standing here, in front of this house—her house—she felt the weight of them settle deep, steady, and certain.

Together, they walked toward the house, the weight of its history—and the weight of the future—looming over them, but there was a quiet understanding between them.

Whatever the challenge, they’d face it together.

As they approached the front door, Flynn looked over the house, his gaze sweeping over the crumbling facade and the overgrown yard.

He tilted his head, hands in his pockets, his brow furrowing slightly as he assessed the damage.

“This place has potential, no doubt about it,” he said thoughtfully, running a hand through his hair.

“But it’ll need a lot of work. Let’s start with the roof and foundation—can’t have the auld place collapsing before ye unpack yer suitcase. ”

Heather swallowed, taking in the enormity of what he was saying.

What if she failed? What if she poured herself into this place, only to find it would never feel like home?

Or worse—what if she started to care too much, only to lose it?

She’d known the place was a mess. But hearing it laid out so plainly still made her stomach twist.

Still, she must admit, Flynn knew what he was talking about. He glanced back at her, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Don’t worry. We’ll get it sorted. It’s just a matter of time and effort.”

Heather nodded, trying to keep her anxiety in check. “Right. Time and effort. Sounds… doable, right?”

“Absolutely,” Flynn said with confidence. “Once we start on the basics, it’ll be like piecing together a puzzle. One step at a time.”

He walked along the side of the house, inspecting the aging siding and the overgrown ivy that had claimed one of the walls. Heather followed, her mind racing with everything that needed doing.

“How long do you think it’ll take to get it livable?” she asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.

“Depends on how much you’re willing to throw at it,” Flynn replied, his voice turning businesslike. “But I’d say a solid six months to a year, depending on the scope of work. It’s not a quick fix, but it’s definitely doable.”

Heather sighed, her mind racing. Six months to a year—longer than she’d planned, assuming she’d ever had a plan in the first place.

What would she do about her life back in Millhaven?

Her apartment was in limbo, subleased to Mark’s friend for now, but that arrangement couldn’t last forever.

And her dad’s house… She still hadn’t made any real progress towards selling it.

It just sat there, waiting, much like everything else in her life that felt unresolved.

Flynn studied her momentarily, his expression shifting—not teasing, not playful, but something closer to understanding. “Ye don’t have to decide everything today, you know,” he said, his voice softer. “It’s alright to take yer time.”

Heather blinked, caught off guard. Was she that obvious? She forced a smile. “That obvious, huh?”

Flynn shrugged, his grin easy but knowing. “I’ve seen that look before. People standing at the edge of something big—usually just before they jump.”

The weight of it all pressed on her chest as she glanced around the grand but crumbling Glenoran. Was she ready to take on something this big? Or was she running from the life she’d left behind?

“I’ll be honest, Campbell,” Flynn said, turning toward her with a rare note of gravity.

“This place is a right beast—but it’s worth it.

The history in these walls is something special.

If you’re really serious about restoring it, I can give ye a hand—my company handles this kind of work all the time. ”

“You’d help me?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.

Flynn shrugged, but there was something deliberate about the way he looked at her.

“I wouldnae offer if I didn’t think it mattered.

Besides, we’re old friends now, right?” His tone was light and teasing, but his voice had an underlying sincerity.

“I’ll give you a discount for the work. Let’s say you’re getting the ‘old friend’ special.

Ye’ll still be broke, but at least ye’ll feel better about it. ”

Heather let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head.

“Well, I guess that’s a win.” But underneath the humor, there was something else.

Relief. She hated admitting it, even to herself, but knowing she wasn’t in this alone made something in her chest loosen.

She had spent so much time carrying things on her own—her father’s death, the bookstore, the house in the city.

And now, here was Flynn, casually offering to take some of the weight off. She didn’t know what to do with that.

It was a relief. And—if she let herself admit it—maybe even a temptation.

She wasn’t sure what kind of friends they were becoming, but restoring the house with his help suddenly seemed less daunting.

“Well, in that case, I might just take you up on that,” she said with a half-smile.

“It sounds like I’ll need all the help I can get. ”

Flynn’s grin widened, and for a moment, Heather could’ve sworn she saw something flicker in his eyes—something warmer than just professional concern.

“Glad to hear it. We’ll get started soon.

I’ll get the team out here next week and start with the most urgent stuff.

If we’re going to do this, we’ll do it right. ”

Heather looked at the house again, feeling more specific and hopeful.

Maybe this wasn’t the disaster she had imagined.

Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something bigger.

She’d arrived in Scotland expecting to clean up a house and move on.

Now, she wasn’t so sure she even wanted to leave.

“Thanks, Flynn,” she said, her voice softer now, touched by gratitude.

“Dinnae mention it,” he joked, “Just doing my civic duty to ensure Scotland remains a no-transparent-pants zone.”

Heather laughed, a thread of tension loosening in her shoulders as she glanced at the house. “I’ll take that as a promise.”

Their hands met in a firm shake, and Heather felt a jolt of something unexpected—warmth that traveled straight up her arm from his palm.

His grip was steady, his skin slightly rough, and it felt like an anchor, grounding her amid her swirling doubts, and the gesture lingered just a second too long—long enough for her to notice.

Long enough for her to wonder if he did, too.

Her breath hitched, and Flynn’s smile softened, his hand holding hers just a beat longer before he released her .

“That’s settled, then,” he said, his voice low and sure. “Welcome to the chaos.”

Heather tried to play it cool, even as her heart thudded. “Chaos might be putting it lightly. This place is practically falling apart.”

“Aye,” Flynn said, a teasing glint in his eye, “but it’s yer chaos now. And lucky for ye, I have a soft spot for fixing disasters.”

Heather raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a bemused grin, “Are you calling me a disaster?”

“Not you, Glenoran,” he shot back with a wink. “You, Miss Campbell, are more of a… challenge.”

“Glad to know I’m keeping you on your toes,” she said, unable to stop smiling back.

“Always,” Flynn replied, his tone light but with just a hint of something else that made her stomach flutter.

He stepped back, his gaze sweeping over the house with fondness and determination.

“Right, then. Let’s get to it! I’ll come back tomorrow to go over the priority repairs and draw up a proper plan. ”

Heather glanced up at the house, its weathered facade and sagging roof still daunting but somehow less overwhelming with Flynn standing beside her. “Right,” she murmured.

“Ye’ve got time,” he said with a small smile, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’ll get there.”

As Flynn headed toward his truck, he paused, turning back to her with a grin. “Oh, and Campbell?”

“Yeah?”

“Try to avoid wandering off in the rain while I’m gone, eh?” He winked, his grin widening as he climbed into the truck.

Heather laughed despite herself, shaking her head as she watched him drive away.

The sound of his engine faded into the distance, leaving her alone once more in front of Glenoran House.

But this time, the solitude didn’t feel quite so overwhelming.

She turned back toward the house, wrapping her arms around herself as the wind carried the scent of damp earth and old stone.

A distant crow called through the trees, echoing like a memory.

The enormity of it all pressed in around her—the repairs, the history, the uncertainty of what came next—but something was different now.

She wasn’t entirely alone in this. For the first time since arriving in Scotland, that thought felt like something she could hold onto.

She took one last look at the road where Flynn had disappeared, then turned back to Glenoran.

It was broken. Haunted. Heavy with history.

But so was she.

And maybe—just maybe—if she could fix it, she could fix something in herself, too.