“Well, I was hoping to have some for today, but it’s been an absolute disaster trying to make them.” Her voice is full of defeat, and it makes me wonder if there’s more to her failed attempts at making butteries, something adding to her melancholy. “Just add it to the list of things I can’t do.”

  “How bad was it?”

  “Bad.”

  “Were you using my da’s recipe?” I ask.

  “No, I found one on the internet.”

  “Mistake number one, lass. Online recipes don’t have the special touch.”

  “Well, I wasn’t about to call up your dad while he’s on holi-boobies.”

  “Holibags.” I let out the smallest of chuckles. I feel her glance my way, but I keep my gaze on the path, not wanting to show her that I actually thought that was funny. “Maw keeps a recipe book in the cottage for guests who want to try some traditional Scottish recipes while they’re here. Butteries and red current jam are on the first page, I believe.”

  “That’s good to know. Although, given my track record, I think I would screw up your dad’s recipe too.”

  “The hardest part is folding in all the butter. But once you have the technique down, you get used to it.”

  “Have you made them?” she asks.

  A large rock about two feet high blocks our path, and I lift myself onto it first, ducking out of the way of another branch. I turn to assist Bonnie, but she already has one foot up on the rock, hoisting herself up. When she stands, she sets her hands on her hips and glances around. We’re still under heavy tree cover at this point, but it will clear out soon, and I’ll be interested to see her reaction when the pristine valley comes into view. “Yeah, I used to help me da make ’em early in the morning.” I let out a heavy breath, remembering those mornings.

  Take pride in everything you do, son.

  The menial tasks, the ones no one wants to do, those are the tasks you should always take on to help the town.

  Remember who you are. You’re a MacGregor, and we take care of our own.

  Throwing pottery isn’t helping this town—it’s a waste of time better spent somewhere else.

  Those early mornings held some good moments, but most of them sit sour in my gut—especially since he retired quickly and left Maw in the lurch with the shop, essentially turning away tourists and going against everything he’d ever instilled in me.

  Not to mention the fact that he wouldn’t let me anywhere near the kitchen to help out Maw.

  Hell . . . I can’t even think about that now.

  Not when I’m trying to wash away those painful memories as I hike up this hill . . .

  “Wow, I had no clue. You must have a good relationship with your dad, then.” If only she knew. “My parents wanted me to go to college; I told them I didn’t need to and that I would find what I was looking for in Los Angeles. Funny thing is, I wanted to go to college.” She pauses, her voice a little shaky, and I wonder if she’s going to cry. Please don’t cry. I wouldn’t know what to do. Hold her? Comfort her? Before I can make a decision, she continues. “I wanted to surprise my parents and tell them I actually was accepted into college, but the rejection letters rolled in, one right after the other. I could have gone to community college, but I was too proud for that. I decided I didn’t need college and moved to Los Angeles with Dakota.” She sighs. “I barely speak with my parents now. If I truly needed them, they’d be there for me, but I know they’re ashamed of me.”

  “I know shame well,” I say before I can stop myself.

  “Really? But it seems like you get along so well with your parents.”

  Well, that just goes to show—you can never judge a family from the outside. When you dive deep, you might find years upon years of pain.

  Wanting to avoid any serious conversation about my parents, I stay silent and continue to push back branches as we make our way up the hill. We’re starting to get to the steep part, where the path narrows and we’ll need to file together into a line. It’s the most grueling part of the hike, but well worth it.

  “Might want to drink some water. It’s going to get tough in a few,” I say.

  “Oh . . . okay.”

  And just like that, silence falls upon us once again.

  “Take my hand,” I say, leaning over the last boulder Bonnie has to climb.

  She doesn’t even second-guess it this time. Instead, she slips her small hand into mine, and I help pull her up. When she makes it over the rock, she lets out a big breath and drops my hand.

  “Thanks,” she says and then turns to look out over the hill we’ve just climbed.

  Green surrounds the panoramic landscape, peaks and valleys covered in freshly bloomed purple heather. The rich blue sky is dotted with puffy white clouds, though darker ones lurk in the distance, indicating an impending storm. I’ll need to keep an eye on that. A light wind picks up, swirling around us, causing her ponytail to whip in front of me and offering a brief cool-off from our steep ascent.

  “Wow, it’s gorgeous,” she says, hands on her hips as she peers down the hill. “I can’t believe we climbed that.”

  I’m fascinated with her reaction as she takes in the rolling scenery sprawled out in front of us. There’s something to be said about catching someone’s reaction when they experience my homeland for the first time.

  Awe.

  Complete awe.

  I glance out toward the loch and the valley, and I have to be grateful in this moment. I’ve trained myself to climb this hill and to be grateful rather than resentful. I might not be on the path I planned for myself, but I have to appreciate the air I breathe, the heartbeat in my chest, and the chance to keep taking one step at a time.

  When Bonnie turns around, her brow knits together. “Where did everyone go?”

  I look behind me, only to find our friends gone. “My guess, exploring.” I nod toward the castle ruins, about one hundred feet from the actual footpath. “Want to check it out?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  I lead her toward the front of the castle, where most of the stone is still intact. Three of the four walls are partially standing, the crumbling stone now halfway buried under the grass and soil around the base. Any wood that was used for the door or architecture is long gone, and in its place is a faint resemblance of a castle with an arch in the front, moss climbing up the sides, and a ceiling open to the sky.

  “Did a king and queen use to live here?”

  I chuckle and shake my head. “Nay, laird and lady. They occupied the castle, but when the South came to attack Corsekelly, they fled and never returned.”

  “Was that when Fergus’s ancestor alerted the town?”

  I nod. “Yes. The town was burned down as well as the castle. The southerners didn’t find the land worthy of their time and moved on. Neither did the laird and the lady, and they abandoned the place after seeing the ruined town. But to the townspeople, this was home, so they came back and rebuilt.”

  We walk through the stone-arch entrance and past a few fallen stones covered by grass and moss. Dakota and Isla are off to the right, their voices trailing softly, while Lachlan and Leith are performing their typical routine whenever we come up here. A boulder sits behind the ruins, about five feet wide and six feet tall. They compete to see who can scale it the fastest. They’ve shot an entire video on it.

  Fucking eejits.

  The clouds overhead block the sun as the wind picks up. Just as I thought: a storm is coming. I glance over my shoulder and take in the distance, trying to calculate the kind of time we have left up here. A shiver of fear climbs up the back of my neck at those dark clouds. Memories flash before me.

  Painful memories.

  Life-altering memories.

  “I can’t imagine how they wouldn’t want to come back to this. It’s beautiful,” Bonnie says, knocking me out of my reverie.

  “Sometimes people can’t see the value in what’s standing right in front of them,” I say, and her eyes flash to mine.

  The smallest of smirks pulls on the corner of her lips. “Are you saying I don’t value you, Rowan?”

  “Nay.” I shake my head.

  “Hmm, I think you are. And you know, it’s been nice not fighting with you.”

  “It’s been okay,” I tease, and she bumps her shoulder against mine, pulling me all the way back into the present.

  “Admit it, I’m not as bad as you thought I was.”

  “I never thought you were bad—just stubborn and far too talkative.”

  “Not all of us want to communicate like cavemen,” she counters, working her way through the ruins. I take a moment to admire her. Her hand trails over the mossy stone, and a smile lifts up the corners of her mouth. Hell, she truly is beautiful, and that smile, when it’s directed at me, makes my stomach dance with nerves. I can’t remember the last time I had that feeling. If ever.

  “I save my words—makes a bigger impact.”

  “Makes you seem like an asshole.” I just shrug in response, and she rolls her eyes. “Tell me, how many times have you been up here?”

  “More than I can count. Sometimes we’ll hike up here, all four of us, and not say a single thing—we just get lost in our own thoughts.” Many times, dangerous thoughts.

  “I could see how that would be soothing.” She moves past a stack of stone that’s piled in the center of what I imagine was once the castle’s main living space. I once heard the stack was from the turret where the lady would hide from the laird. Apparently, they weren’t the kind of couple who were deeply in love. Maybe that’s why they didn’t stay. “So you’ve known the Murdachs since you were young, I’m assuming.” I nod. “Have you ever had a crush on Isla?”

  I rub the side of my jaw. “Aye. We dated for a few months.”

  “Seriously?” she asks, eyes wide. “Were you her last boyfriend?”

  I shake my head. “No, that was an unfortunate man in a town twenty miles north. After a few months of dating him, she came up to Leith, Lachlan, and me and announced that she was more interested in dating Mac’s sister than him.”

  Bonnie laughs. “I wish Dakota’d had a realization like that. Instead, she met Isabella, her ex, through a job I had. Isabella and I would have to work together a lot when our bosses were collaborating on a makeup line. She was very open about her sexuality, and she flirted shamelessly with Dakota. It took Dakota a hot second to understand it, but she was developing feelings for her. Isabella was not only her first but also the girl who made Dakota realize she’s gay.” Bonnie picks up a rock from the ground and tosses it in her hand. “If I ever run into Isabella on the street, I’d give her a piece of her mind. She played games, manipulated Dakota, and really messed her up.”

  Not sure what to say, I stay silent.

  Bonnie keeps talking, and I’m not surprised—she seems to be a person who, once she starts talking, doesn’t stop.

  “I’ve had my fair share of boyfriends, but they never mentally messed with me. Mostly, they were just idiots. Immature, not ready for a relationship. Then again, not sure I was either.” She sighs. “You don’t need to hear this.” She pats her stomach and looks around the ruins. It seems like she’d do anything to avoid eye contact with me. “Where’s the food? This girl is hungry.”

  I’m about to call out to Isla when I see her come through an arch, Dakota at her side. “Did I hear someone’s hungry?” she asks.

  “Starving,” Bonnie says.

  Isla lowers her backpack and unzips it. She and Dakota unfold a blanket, and we’re all taking seats just as Leith and Lachlan join us. Isla passes around some ham sandwiches, and Leith hands out drinks. Together, we feast, and by the companionable silence that settles over us, I can tell the hike has worked up everyone’s appetite.

  “Dakota was telling me you were trying to bake some butteries,” Isla finally says, turning to Bonnie.

  “You were?” Leith asks, looking far too eager.

  “Yeah, I was going to make some to bring on the hike to surprise you guys, but I failed miserably. Six attempts, and they were all epic fails.”

  “You should have Rowan help you,” Lachlan suggests with a sly grin.

  “I heard he knows how to make a tasty buttery,” Bonnie says.

  “You actually spoke to her?” Leith asks, the fucking eejit.

  “He spoke a lot,” Bonnie says. “A total chatterbox. Smoke was coming out of his ears from all the overthinking. Fascinating spectacle, actually.” She smirks at me, and hell . . . I like the teasing.

  “I’ve seen the smoke before,” Leith says. “But that’s only been when he’s trying to solve a simple math problem. Really takes it out of the big guy.”

  “What’s eight times six?” I ask Leith right before taking a bite of my sandwich.

  Leith’s eyes narrow, his smarmy smile turning into a frown. “Och, you know I failed miserably with my times tables. Way to hit me where it hurts.”

  “It’s true,” Lachlan joins in. “He always got his sixes, sevens, and eights mixed up.”

  “They are entirely too close together.”

  “So are the other numbers,” I say, and our little circle laughs.

  I feel lighter at that collective laugh. I didn’t realize how much I needed this reprieve, this camaraderie, until just now. Things have been heavy with my parents. I’ve felt angry, frustrated . . . hell, embarrassed, since I didn’t even know they were leaving. And being out here, with my friends—old and new—eases the ache in my chest. Gives me a fresh breath of air to my lungs. I glance over at Bonnie, and our eyes meet for a brief second before she turns away and takes a bite of her sandwich. I’ll admit that one little glance did a lot for me as well. Just in the last ten minutes, it feels like something has shifted between us: the anger seems to have dissipated, and a bond is forming. A bond that might develop into something more. My stomach dips. I don’t know—I could be wrong.

  “Get the fuck down from there. The storm is rolling in!” I yell, my patience wearing thin as I look up at Bonnie, standing on top of an outer wall that overlooks the valley. A few pebbles have crumbled under her feet already.

  “Where do you get off telling me what to do?” Bonnie shouts down at me.

  “I’m not carrying your body down this damn hill. That’s where I get off.”

  “Who said you’re going to have to carry me?”

  Fucking irritating woman.

  A crack of thunder rumbles through the hills, sending my heartbeat into a frenzy.

  Fuck . . .

  Panic starts to overtake me.

  The rest of the group decided to head down the mountain a half hour ago. We stayed longer because Bonnie wanted to explore some more. She’s spent the last fifteen minutes trying to distinguish where the bedrooms, the kitchen, and the living quarters were. I’ve spent that time trailing behind her as she climbs wall after wall. Knowing how bad the storms can be up here, I volunteered to stay back with her, even though Leith, Lachlan, and Isla all second-guessed my choice, each one of them saying they could stay with her while I headed down first.

  I was wrong.

  Terribly wrong.

  Standing on top of the ruins, arms spread, looking out toward the town below us, she’s speaking to Mother Nature, asking for forgiveness for the time she threw out an ice cream wrapper, missed the trash can, and watched it tumble down the street instead of chasing after it.

  Litter, basically.

  She’s apologizing for littering while panic grips my body, harder and harder, with every rumble of thunder in the distance.

  The wind whips through the trees viciously, the storm moving faster than expected, and I watch her sway backward, teetering on the edge of the weathered stone.

  “Jesus Christ, get down!” I yell as my palms break out in a sweat, ready to catch her.

  “Sheesh, fine, all right.” She maneuvers herself down the ruins and lands perfectly on two feet before turning toward me, a grin on her face. “See, I’m fine. No need to—”

  CRACK. BOOM.

  Thunder erupts above and nearly shakes me to my core. A sheet of rain splits through the clouds and descends upon us. As water pours down, I stare at her, angry and irritated, my patience hanging on by a thread.

  “Huh . . . who would have known it was going to storm?”

  “I did,” I snap. “I knew, and you wouldn’t listen. Did you really think apologizing about littering years ago was necessary?”

  She wipes the rain from her face. “Clearly Mother Nature didn’t accept my apology. That, or she’s making me pay my penance.” She throws out her arms and tilts her head back. “I receive your punishment with open arms.”

  Thunder booms around us, and I grab her arm, pulling her deeper into the ruins and into a small alcove where we’ll be protected. I hold her close, hoping to avoid any lightning strikes.

  “Uh, what are you doing?” she asks, her chin pressed against my chest.

  “Making sure you don’t get electrocuted.”

  “Look who’s overreacting about—”

  CRACK. BOOM.

  A sharp snap of light hits a pile of stones a few feet away. Bonnie yelps, burying her head in my chest and wrapping her arms around my body.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll admit it—ignoring you was a bad idea. I should have gotten down when you told me. Hell, maybe we should have gone back with the others.”

  I blink a few times, shocked that she’s folded so quickly. I was expecting a little more pushback. “Can I get that in writing, please?”

  “No.”

  She snuggles in closer, and I feel her tremble beneath me. I just hope she can’t feel me trembling against her.

  “Are you cold?”

  “Shaken,” she says. “My bones shake when I’m startled or scared.”

  “You’re scared?” I ask, feeling a little sorry for her. That’s right, put all your energy into her, not yourself.

  Focus. On. Her.

  “Aren’t you?” She looks up at me, and God, she truly is bonny. Droplets of water coat her long eyelashes, and rain runs down her perfectly plump lips, which I’m sure do wicked things.

  But then her words register.

  Aren’t you?