Page 30 of The Love Leap (Timeless Love Chronicles #1)
Chapter Twenty-Eight
My toes bury themselves in the soft sand as an unspoken question hangs heavy in the air—will the mystical portal show up for an encore? The alternative options aren’t exactly appealing; we land in Gregor’s not-so-loving arms or face something far worse.
As I stand on the precipice of something new, memories yank me backward. Back to Toronto with its Lila-shaped comforts, parental drama, a smattering of friends, and one very spoiled cat.
But that isn’t enough now. Hemingway nailed it when he said: “In order to write about life, first you must live it.”
Until Cal swaggered into my world with his sailing prowess, barefoot charm, captivating stories, and those irresistible, sexy dimples, dating was just another shade of gray. What I craved was color. Depth and authenticity.
These weeks spent adventuring with Cal have been like a breath of fresh air after being underwater for far too long. No more aimless wandering through days that blend into each other; now every moment pulses with life.
My old self feels like a ghost from another timeline. Can I really go back to that drab existence after feasting on this vibrant buffet of experiences alongside Cal? The answer is elusive as thoughts of my cramped apartment are shooed away by visions of an unknown future sparkling on the horizon.
“So… this is it,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady but failing miserably. “We just... wade in and hope the magic portal zaps us back to the 21st century?”
Cal chuckles, a sound I associate with comfort, and my nerves ease up a bit. He’s holding his handcrafted boots—a clear winner over the modern boat shoes he used to sport.
“Aye, lass. Though maybe ye need a pair of ruby slippers instead. Click yer heels three times and say there’s no place like home.” His grin tilts off-center and sends butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Still, I snort at his silliness.
“And are you my wizard?”
“Nae, more like time-travelin’ tour guide, with benefits.” He casts a sultry wink in my direction. I feel heat creep up my cheeks as memories of that shared bed, that intoxicating kiss flood my mind.
The loch stares back at me, daring me to make the first move. It’s a now-or-never situation—dip our toes in or forever be stuck in 17th-century Scotland. I gulp a lungful of air, trying to stir up that audacious spirit that landed me in this predicament.
“Alright, let’s get this over with before I lose my nerve,” I declare, striding forward until the icy tendrils of water lap at my ankles, sending an electric shiver up my spine.
“If something goes wrong… it’s been one hell of an adventure, Cal.”
“We’ll make it, Amelia. Còmhla. It means together.” Cal’s voice echoes solemnly through the quiet night as he weaves his fingers through mine. The rough texture of his palm grounds me.
Hand-in-hand, we wade deeper into the loch, the freezing water swirling around our legs, rising higher with each step. I’m breathless and worn out but ready to leap again—fueled by adrenaline, fear, and a flicker of hope.
Is it just me, or is the water starting to glimmer with specks of silver and gold? A vortex of pink, green, and purple light seems to bloom beneath the surface. A glance at Cal confirms he sees it, too; his expression mirrors my nervous anticipation .
An enraged roar from behind us shatters the tranquil moment.
“Argh! Bloody MacDowell demons! Ye willnae escape me this time!” Gregor Campbell stands on the shore—wet and fuming with fury. Even from here, I can see the vein pulsating in his temple and a murderous gleam in his eyes.
“Quick, Mills!” Cal shouts, seeing Gregor charging into the shallows with his sword drawn. “We’re almost there!”
My breath catches in my throat, and my heart races as I push against the churning water—waiting for the vortex to swallow us whole. We have to hurry before we’re trapped in this era forever, at the mercy of a madman.
Cal tightens his grip on my hand. His eyes are ablaze with determination and courage, and I see the man he’s become, ready to fight tooth and nail for those he loves. For me.
“ Còmhla ,” he says, his voice steady. “No matter what happens, lass.”
I nod, my heart swelling with a love I’ve never allowed myself to imagine before. “Together.”
The water churns around us, the vortex growing wider as though it’s in tune with our determination.
We charge headlong into the fray, and suddenly, the portal within Loch Ness yawns open, sucking us into a dizzying whirl of colorful magic and moonlight.
My eyes squeeze shut as I cling onto my boots and Cal’s hand while time seems to drag us under.
Gregor’s livid cries are escalating, his splashing footsteps closing in.
But we’re already sliding out of his reach, the pull of the future dragging us deeper into the portal’s clutches.
The last image seared into my mind before light engulfs us is Gregor’s face twisted with fury and disbelief. He’s too late.
Then reality shatters into a riot of colors and we’re tumbling, tumbling, down through centuries, back to where we started—back to a future that I hope we can shape together.
As the swirling pink and green hues fade away, I realize I’ve landed on Loch Ness’ soft shore. Cal is beside me, his hand still locked tightly with mine. Our breaths come out in ragged pants.
Looking up at the night sky, I notice that the stars don’t shimmer as brightly as they used to.
The constellations are masked by a hazy glow—a dead giveaway of light pollution from our contemporary world.
A bittersweet nostalgia hits me as I recognize familiar cottages on the coast—we’re back in the present.
“We did it,” I murmur, like saying it louder might jinx it somehow. “We made it back. ”
Cal’s eyes twinkle with relief and joy. “Aye, we did indeed. Just in the nick of time.”
A ripple of laughter bubbles up from my chest, bouncing off the serene waters of Moray Firth with infectious energy.
The realization that we’ve outfoxed Gregor, leaving him trapped in the pages of history where he rightfully belongs, fills me with a heady sense of triumph.
I shake my head, trying to make sense of our wild ride—our victory feels as surreal as a dream spun from moonlight and Scottish mist.
“Do you hear that?” Cal’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
I strain my ears and catch the faint strains of music wafting from a nearby window. It’s a tune that feels like an old friend in this new reality. “Is that... Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper?”
Cal laughs. “Aye, it is. Fitting, right? A song about time, welcoming us back to the 21st century.”
“Of all the songs we could’ve heard right now, it just had to be that one. The universe sure has a twisted sense of humor,” I say.
His grin widens. “Well, at least there’ll be no more corsets and chamber pots for ye, Mills.”
“And no more kilts and swords for you, Captain.”
“I dinnae know,” he ponders out loud, brushing sand off his family tartan.
“The kilt suits me. And I might still need my boots in the fields. They’ll come in handy if I step in a cow patty.
” With a mischievous smirk, he tosses his boots onto the sand and steps into them before lacing them up, and I follow suit.
As we stand hand-in-hand under the starlit sky, laughing together like two kids caught playing hooky from school, relief washes over me like a wave crashing onshore. We’ve made it back—against all odds—and our feelings for each other are more potent than any magical vortex or vengeful clan.