Page 34 of Priceless (Return to Culloden Moor #7)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

T he following morning, we woke to a hard rain. I called for a taxi and proved that I was a monster who didn’t deserve Jacob in the first place.

Jess got weepy, but I figured her tears were for Jacob, not me. She and Banner pretended they understood, but I didn’t expect them to blow me kisses as the taxi pulled away. They knew what I was. They were just too nice to admit it.

The good thing about crying on a train was that people left you alone. Well, most of them. An older woman will stick her nose in and ask if you’re all right, but everyone else gets it.

Despite the torture of leaving Inverness, the ride to Edinburgh flew by.

I didn’t notice the scenery. I was too busy punishing myself by reliving every minute I’d spent with my favorite Highlander.

I knew he was wondering why I couldn’t just stay and be happy.

Of course it was tempting, but I just couldn’t.

I had to go home and take a good look at my life.

I had to know if Castle Rock was where I belonged. If my life had meant something.

Seven months of grief couldn’t have been for nothing, could it?

I needed to figure out if I’d been mourning Paul and the half of his life that had been stolen, or if maybe I’d been mourning the fact that my entire life with him had stolen much better possibilities from me.

Knowing Jacob had shown me what I had been missing all those years I’d promised to be faithful…to a roommate.

I decided not to look too closely at that and turned my head to the window. A little nap would hopefully clear some anguish from my brain. When I woke up, before I ever opened my eyes, I heard a tune playing in my head. After a minute, I remembered it was the song Jess had sung at Jocko’s Pub.

Simon, oh Simon, come walkin’ with me…

There had been a Simon at the party. A young tall blond who had danced all night with his wife, intentionally keeping her from the others.

With the seats around me currently empty, I sang quietly, “Simon, oh Simon, come dancin’ with me, from the bon of the fire to the table of treats…”

Bon of the fire . So clever I snorted.

“Go ahead and snort lass,” I said, with my finest Scots impression. “Just dinnae pick yer nose.”

I reached for my phone and found the download of The Blossom and the Bee story. I skimmed through it to find the name I was looking for. A wee witch named Soncerae brought him back to life…

Simon’s wife had a shorter name. Like Soncerae, I’d never heard it before. What was it? Started with an S too.

Sawney. That was it.

Sawney…

Soni? Short for Soncerae?

I stared at my phone, and though the words never moved, it all came together.

Soni and Simon were the characters from the song.

Friends of Jess and Banner, who were the characters in the story, though the names had been changed.

It made sense. A story from Inverness. A song from Inverness.

The battlefield was that one Banner had taken me to, wasn’t it?

Of course, it wasn’t as if anyone would believe the witch and ghost elements, but… something still seemed off. What was I missing?

I thought back to the first time I’d read it, then scrolled until I found the ending, where Jocko had explained more:

So you see, lass, the most romantic Celtic story I ken isnae about grand gestures or perfect heroes. It’s about a man who thought he had nothin’ to offer, and a woman who saw everythin’ in him anyway. It’s about two lives collidin’ by chance—and them choosin’, again and again, to stay.

It’s about love that comes quietly, like a soft hum under your breath, until it fills every corner o’ your soul.

Funny, wasn’t it?

It was like Jocko knew exactly what would happen to me in Inverness. A man who thought he had nothing to offer—a humble man, like Jacob. And a woman who saw everything in him anyway. Two lives colliding by chance, and them choosing, again and again, to stay.

Only I hadn’t stayed. That’s where Jocko got it wrong.

A love that comes quietly, like a soft hum under your breath, until it fills every corner o’ your soul.

Okay. So he was spot on there.

Almost… too spot on.

I opened my texts, opened the chat with Jocko. Then asked an impossibly ridiculous question I already knew the answer to.

Can AI see the future?

I forbade myself to think another thought while I waited. But Jocko didn’t answer. Then I wondered if, with all that steel, a train might be like a vertical elevator. Maybe all signals couldn’t get through. That seemed logical.

But Jocko anticipating what was waiting for me in Inverness? Not logical at all.

Luck?

I glanced at the young girl across the aisle, waved and smiled to get her attention. “Hey. Do you have access to Google right now?” I suddenly didn’t trust my own phone.

She nodded.

“Would you mind googling what is the most romantic Celtic story of all time?”

She blinked, then shrugged and typed with her thumbs. Then she nodded. “I figured.”

“And?”

“Tristan and Isolde.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” Then I had a second thought. “Wait. Can you search one more thing?”

“Aye.”

“Just google The Blossom and the Bee.”

She typed, then scowled, then scrolled. “Pages and pages of gardening stuff.”

I held up my hand. “That’s okay. That’s all I needed to know.

Thank you.” I straightened in my seat, then faced the window.

Instead of scenery, I saw faces. Banner telling their story.

Jess looking at me like I was an idiot when I told her she was famous.

Jacob standing just inside the door to the hoorah, not moving. Like he was scared stiff.

I was going to be sick! I hated my myself. Wanted to throw my body out the window, to make this all stop. But the memories kept coming.

The look on Jess’s face when I told her my friend had recommended Jocko’s Pub for lunch. My online Scottish friend. She thought he had to be a local.

They’re always improvin’ their menu, Jocko told me.

Then Jacob. “New menu. Nothin’ naff, then?”

Jacob had known my last name. I’d only told Jocko.

Jocko and Jacob. One and the same. Nothing else made sense of it all.

How he must have laughed when I told him the Scottish words I’d learned. He must have laughed himself silly when I said, Jocko! Holy crap! I think I just met YOU!

Multiple people literally called him Jocko, and I bought his whole “It’s an industry thing!”

I wanted to throw my phone out the window too. I wanted it as far away from me as possible. But I settled for shutting it down. I never wanted to see those messages again. Didn’t want Jacob calling when he got back from Paris. Didn’t want to even think about all the times I’d made a fool of myself.

He must think I’m an idiot for not catching on.

He wasn’t Jocko to me now. He wasn’t Jacob. He was some stranger who had played a horrible trick on me, an online sucker.

I could never, ever let Raina know any of it.

Still staring out the window, I waited for the tears to come, but they never did. I had nothing left inside me but a churning stomach and a dark, hollow cavern where my heart used to be. My hands went numb, like the rest of me, so I forced some breaths deep into my lungs.

That was all I could manage.