Page 33 of The Love Leap (Timeless Love Chronicles #1)
Chapter Thirty-One
Stepping into The Tipsy Trow, the off-kilter vibe hits me like a punch in the gut.
The delightful sign outside has vanished, replaced by an over-the-top neon number above the bar that screams Campbell’s Cavern.
It bathes the worn leather furniture and peeling black and gold-leaf wallpaper in an otherworldly glow.
“Excuse me,” I say to a guy nursing what looks like his fifth pint of something dark and ominous. “I’m looking for Cameron MacDowell. Is he here?”
“MacDowell?” He snorts, shooting me a look that’s equal parts pity and amusement. “You’re about three hundred years too late for that, lassie. Wolf Campbell is the one you want—over there behind the bar.”
I try not to gasp as my gaze lands on a towering figure with eyes colder than a rainy afternoon in Inverness. Definitely a Campbell through and through.
“Thanks,” I mumble, quickly re-lacing my left boot before approaching this Wolf character—because if there’s one thing I’ve learned so far, it’s that properly laced boots can make all the difference when dealing with a Campbell.
“Hi,” I start, striving for calm in my voice. “I was hoping to speak with Cam MacDowell...”
Wolf cuts me off mid-sentence, his tone oozing disdain. “No MacDowells here, lassie. This town is Campbell territory, and this joint’s mine.”
Territory? My chest tightens at the thought of this warped reality Cal and I have stumbled into.
“So... nice place you’ve got here,” I venture casually, leaning against the bar. “How’d you come to own Campbell’s Cavern?”
Wolf barely looks up from his cleaning, his voice gruff. “Been in my family for centuries.”
“Centuries?” I echo, struggling to keep my shock under wraps. “That’s... impressive.” My mind races with the implications.
Something went horribly awry when Cal and I jumped into the Loch Ness Portal.
“Yeah,” Wolf replies curtly, clearly uninterested in further chit-chat.
“I bet it’s fascinating, running a place with so much history,” I press on, undeterred.
“Stories,” he snorts dismissively, finally meeting my gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Who needs stories? Ye outsiders are all the same...”
I defend myself as best as I can while my thoughts twist like a cyclone—what happened to Aven Valley? And more importantly, how can Cal and I fix it?
“If you ever fancy swapping tales,” I offer lightly despite the dread coiling inside me.
He declines politely but firmly. Turning away from the bar, I scan the room for any hint that could help me decode this perplexing new world.
“This place reminds me of a pair of well-loved sneakers,” I call out, my voice a bit too bright. “They’ve seen better days, sure, and they might even be a bit funky. But there’s something about them that keeps pulling you back.”
Wolf’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening at my metaphor. A twinge of regret pricks me. That was probably not the best way to lighten the mood.
“Who are ye calling smelly?” His voice is chilly, suspicion heavy in each word. “Are ye one of those MacDowells? Always poking around where ye shouldn’t!”
I blink, taken aback by his sudden hostility. “MacDowell? No... I’m just visiting. Looking for Cameron and Callum, actually, but it seems I’ve got the wrong address.”
“Clearly,” Wolf mutters with a derisive snort. “The MacDowells’ land has been long gone. And good riddance. ”
I swallow hard against the unease bubbling up inside me. “Right,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Thanks for your... hospitality.”
As I turn from the bar, my mind races with worry and confusion. What happened to Aven Valley? Why does this feud between Campbells and MacDowells seem so much more intense than before?
He calls after me just as I’m about to leave, curiosity finally winning over his frosty demeanor. “What’s yer name?”
“Amelia Sutherland,” I reply after a moment’s hesitation.
His eyebrows furrow in thought but he shakes his head dismissively after a beat or two. “Never heard of ya’. Stay outta trouble though; we don’t need any more drama here.”
I force a weak smile as I step away from him. “Trust me, I’m not here to cause any trouble. I just need to find my friends and go home.”
He snorts in response, turning back to his glass polishing. “Good luck with that.”
My thoughts are a tangled mess of doubt and fear as I distance myself from the bar.
I need to find Cal—God, I hope he’s safe—and figure out how we can fix whatever damage we’ve done by traveling through the Portal.
But first, I have to understand this unfamiliar Aven Valley better, which means it’s time for Detective Amelia Sutherland.
Feeling dizzy and overwhelmed, I slide into a corner table and order a plate of fries; comfort food might help me focus better.
As I munch on a fry, my mind drifts back to Rosewood Cottage and its peaceful seaside cove that used to be my sanctuary from reality.
Now, though, reality has slammed into me like a tidal wave, and all I can do is try not to drown.
“At least you’re still here,” I mumble down at my combat boots. They feel like the only link left to who I was before everything went haywire.
“Did ye say something?” An old man’s gruff voice breaks through my thoughts.
I flush with embarrassment as he eyes me curiously. “No... Just talking to myself,” I admit sheepishly before adding under my breath, “It’s been one hell of a day.”
He grunts in agreement but doesn’t seem interested in continuing the conversation.
“Does it always feel like a powder keg ready to blow around here?” I toss out, aiming for nonchalance. “You know, with the whole Campbell versus MacDowell saga?”
The man huffs out a laugh, sizing me up with a quick sidelong glance.
“Ye’re definitely not local,” he observes without any trace of malice. “But here’s a tip for ye, lass: steer clear of the hometown politics. It’s one gnarly mess, and those who get entangled rarely emerge unscathed. ”
As I finish my fries in the dimly lit tavern, I try to figure out where to go next. My eyes wander down to Wolf’s feet, where he sports flashy neon green sneakers that scream high-end, usually spotted on athletic superstars. Quite the contradiction to his otherwise rugged persona.
What could this mean? Honestly, who freakin’ knows? My Shoe Theory is flawed, I’ve lost Cal, and I feel like I’ve tumbled headfirst into Stranger Things’ Upside Down.
I tune into the conversation at the next table. Two women there paint a somber image of Aven Valley that’s as foreign to me as Mars.
“It’s just unbelievable,” whispers one woman, her voice trembling like an autumn leaf clinging to its branch. She stares into her pint as if searching for answers in its amber depths. “Another heartless concrete beast has sprouted up on what was once MacDowell land.”
Her friend, a woman whose face tells tales of years spent under the Highland sun, nods gravely. “Mayor Zeke Campbell couldn’t care less about us or our history,” she grumbles with an edge sharp enough to cut glass. She lowers her voice conspiratorially, “Just like his brother Wolf over there.”
“My great-granny used to say how different things were when she was young,” murmurs the first woman. “The place had... life.”
The second woman nods, her gaze wandering off somewhere far away. “I recently found an old history book with photos of their annual village fair,” she shares, frowning at some spectral injustice. “Seemed like everyone was having a blast.”
“True,” echoes the first woman, her voice heavy with longing and loss. “But those days are long gone now... I dinnae think they’re comin’ back.”
Their words hang between us like a thick fog over the Firth. This new Aven Valley is not my cup of tea.
The women’s bubble of nostalgia is abruptly popped by the entrance of Wolf Campbell, pulling up a chair, uninvited, at their table.
His broad frame, flattened nose, and venomous stare scream bad news.
He exudes an air of entitlement that makes my skin crawl, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the drama unfolding in front of me.
“Well, ladies,” Wolf drawls, a smug grin plastered across his face like he’s won the lottery. “I couldn’t help but overhear yer little trip down memory lane.”
The women stiffen like they’ve been flash-frozen, their expressions turning as icy as the wind howling outside. “Mr. Campbell,” responds the first woman, her voice tight with barely restrained fury.
Wolf chuckles in response to their palpable hostility.
“Now, now…what Zeke’s done here is not all doom and gloom,” he drawls dismissively, reclining in his chair with an air of smug indifference.
“Progress is necessary for any town to survive.” His words are met by a silence so profound it practically ricochets off the walls.
My fists ball under the table. I’m seething. This man and his brother are ripping apart Aven Valley’s heritage brick by brick and they dare to label it progress?
Wolf swivels towards me, a devilish glint in his eyes as if he senses my inner turmoil. Maybe he’s just relishing his moment in the spotlight. He winks conspiratorially—I nearly choke on my drink.
“Oh dear,” Wolf coos mockingly while patting his chest with faux concern. “Did I startle ye?”
I shoot him a glare through tear-filled eyes but bite back any retort—hurling my drink at him would probably be too satisfying for him.
“I’m just sayin’…” Wolf continues unabashedly ignoring my silent protest and pivoting back towards the women at his table. “We can either embrace change or be left behind.”
His words reverberate around the hushed pub like a death knell tolling for everything this town once embodied. Community spirit and respect for history are being shoved aside by greed and apathy.
A surge of melancholy sweeps over me. It’s not just about the physical transformation of this quaint little town anymore; it’s about the people here losing their identity, their sense of belonging.
The two women won’t look at Wolf. They stare blankly at their untouched drinks, their faces etched with despair that mirrors my own feelings.
It sounds like Gregor Campbell and his clan didn’t just take over Aven Valley, they’ve morphed it into something alien and unrecognizable. My heart plummets. This isn’t just about Cal and me anymore. The whole town is under siege.
Stepping back onto the cobblestone streets, the setting sun casts long shadows, painting a picture of foreboding. This isn’t my Aven Valley anymore, and I’m at a loss to navigate its treacherous terrain.
I have to find Cal, pronto. We need to untangle this mess, or we’ll be stuck in this warped rendition of his hometown forever.