Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
That’s why I was now departing the ferry and stepping onto Leth Sholas Harbor instead of writing my English essay.
I was here to end the break.
To melt the freeze.
Of course, I could have texted Quinn at any point during our breakup, but he deserved me to make the effort of doing this face-to-face. After all, he was the one who never wavered from wanting a future together. I was the one who stupidly got stuck in my head about it.
“Taran Macbeth?”
As I strolled onto Main Street, I was unsurprised to hear my name. Small island town and all that. I peeked from beneath the wool band of my winter hat to see Aodhan Macduff. He stood with the harbor master and Ruth, his Great Dane, at his side.
“Hi, Mr. Macduff. Mr. Ore.” I waved.
“Home for the weekend?”
I nodded.
“Let us know when you realize Glasgow is a cesspit,” Aodhan said with a good-natured wink.
I rolled my eyes and waved off his comment before carrying on toward Quinn’s. He’d moved out of his mum’s house at eighteen, into a flat above the fish-and-chip shop last year. Mum hadn’t allowed me to stay with him in his flat until I turned eighteen. As if somehow that would stop us from having sex. She was very, very wrong because we’d been having sex since I was sixteen and we’d started doing everything but sex for a year before that.
But it made Mum feel better, so I’d abided by that rule for a year.
The sight of the flat above the yellow building made my heart beat wildly. My stomach churned with nerves. The last time I’d felt this nervous around Quinn was when we were still friends and I realized I had a crush on him.
“Looking for Quinn?”
I glanced back over my shoulder at Aodhan’s question. “Aye.”
“He’s in the Lantern.”
At eleven o’clock on a Saturday morning?
Frowning, I nodded and headed in the opposite direction down the street. It was so unlike Quinn to be in the pub at this time on his day off. Aye, he and the lads visited the pub once or twice a month, but Quinn wasn’t a big drinker.
My eyes took a minute to adjust to the Lantern’s dim light. Winter on Glenvulin meant fewer tourists and at this time in the morning, there were only a few people in the pub. I spotted Quinn, staring stonily down into an untouched pint while his best friend Forde studied him. It was the look on Forde’s face that set my alarm bells ringing.
Forde Dallas was a pretty boy who attempted to cover his pretty-boy looks with scruff and tattoos. He used humor and charm as a guard and even after all these years, I didn’t feel like I really knew him. The one thing I did know was that Quinn was his family, and he’d do anything for him.
Right now, Forde Dallas looked absolutely gutted as he looked on at his friend.
What the hell had happened?
I was hurrying across the pub before I could think. “Quinn,” I said his name breathlessly as I approached the table.
My boyfriend’s head snapped up, his eyes flaring for a few seconds before his jaw clenched. “What are you doing here?”
The chill in his tone knotted my stomach with dread. “We need to talk. Please.”
That hardness in his blue eyes melted. But not with relief. Instead, they seemed to glisten with emotion. “Taran, what are you doing here?” he repeated, like he was terrified of the answer.
“Please, Quinn.”
Forde reached over and tapped Quinn’s knee. “Go talk to her, mate.” Why was his tone and expression so grim?
I was missing something.
Quinn nodded dazedly and pushed up to his feet, taking a second as if to steady himself. Without looking at me, he gestured toward the exit. “We should talk at my place.”
As I hurried to keep up with his long strides, the icy silence between us as we walked down Main Street reminded me of our last night in Glasgow. I told myself not to panic, that all the tension coming off Quinn was because I hadn’t apologized yet or asked for an end to the breakup.
But as this awful feeling emanated from him, I realized I’d made a selfish error in not communicating at all with him over the last few months.
What if he didn’t want to end the break?
I was out of breath from fear by the time we made it upstairs and into his small flat.
Quinn threw his keys on the coffee table in his living room and then slumped down onto an armchair, putting his head in his hands.
Not the repose of a man relieved to see me.
“Quinn …” His name was almost a whisper as I tentatively took a seat on the couch near him. I reached over to touch his knee. “I’m so sorry. I should have called over the last few months. I just … I’m sorry for putting you through this. My head was all over the place, and I just needed the break to figure things out.” I squeezed his knee, but he didn’t move. Didn’t look at me. “Quinn, I love you so much. That’s what the breakup made me see. I love you and we can figure this out. I … I don’t want to take a break anymore. I’ve missed you unbearably.”