Page 2 of Back Where He Belongs

CHAPTER TWO

HIKE

Kier was just fine with his own company. In Australia, solitude was his default. He spent his time roaming the thousands of miles of pastureland, talking to sheep, sharing the odd comment with a farm hand, and mulling over his thoughts. He’d never felt comfortable in crowds but bloomed in the company of a few good friends, or a special someone. There had not been a someone special for longer than he cared to remember.

The icy wind battered him as he marched in the middle of the deserted highway, following the white dashes that he hoped would lead to warmth and rescue. A sudden encroaching feeling of loneliness washed over him. It was an unexpected feeling. Kier was home now, but not having contact with anyone by phone was a worry. No one knew where he was, and the only people he could think of who would care were his family. He was well and truly alone in the world.

Kier hitched his rucksack higher on his back and stuffed his gloveless hands into his coat pockets. He lowered his head and pushed into the biting gale because one thing was certain, there was no way in hell he could survive a winter’s night in the Highlands without shelter and a roaring fire.

The haunting whistle of the tempest and the trip-trap of his booted feet on tarmac played counterpoint. And as Kier fell into a rhythm his thoughts grew dark. Dissatisfaction leached any pleasant thoughts he’d been having during his impromptu hike. He obsessed about where he’d gone wrong and where his life was heading. Because Kier now believed he had gone wrong. He must have done something wrong to still be single at twenty-nine.

Kier hadn’t been in contact with any of his old friend since he’d left for Australia all those years ago. They must have thought he’d fallen off the edge of the world or worse. For Kier, leaving had been like closing one book and beginning a brand new story. But now, so close to home, he wondered if he hadn’t picked the wrong book. His current storyline wasn’t the thrilling adventure he’d envisaged when he left, and most depressing of all was that there was no love interest in it.

In his early teens, Kier had been uncomfortable with his attraction to boys. He’d never come out to his family, and they never asked him questions about his sexuality. Living in a small community he’d worried obsessively that everyone was whispering about why such a good looking lad never had a girlfriend, and what he was up to with that Wee McLelland boy.

Kier and Douglas McLelland had been like peas in a pod from when they were children. Kier’s best friend had secretly become his lover when they both turned eighteen and were attending SRUC—Scotland’s Rural University College, where Kier studied Agriculture and Farming, and Douglas studied for a degree in Organic Farming. Their relationship remained a well-kept secret. To everyone they knew, Kier and Dougie were just best friends who had a tight bromance. The young men did everything together, and from the age of eighteen they had fallen into an easy pattern of life as friends and then as housemates and secret lovers.

After graduation Douglas dropped the bombshell, shattering the double life they had both lived. He decided he wanted to come out and set up a farm and home with Kier. But Kier was just too afraid, and he told Dougie that he wanted something else—he wanted to see the world, with or without him.

Kier left his feelings for Douglas far behind, and neither man had been in touch with the other since the day Kier walked away. Kier let out a self-depreciating laugh. He found it ironic that he’d left the small-minded rural community outside Inverness to escape his sexuality and his fear of being labeled as gay, and moved to the other side of the world to settle in a desolate backwater, where, due to his job and the lack of choice in sexual partners, he was jokily labeled as a ‘sheep shagger’ by locals.

The hooting shriek of Canada Geese caught Kier’s attention. He stopped walking and looked up at the sky, watching them make use of the strong northerly wind as they flew overhead. Twilight was encroaching, and the beauty of his surroundings suddenly hit Kier in the gut. He was rocked by the emotional response in his body. Scotland was as stunning as the tourist adverts claimed. He hadn’t appreciated it enough when he was faced with the rugged, verdant landscape every day.

Australia was also a beautiful country, but after years away, standing in the Scottish wilderness made Kier’s heart sing in a way Australia never had. He stared at scenes of huge cornflower blue skies, billowing clouds, mountains topped with glistening snow, and miles upon miles of lush ice-frosted glen.

A surprising thought popped into Kier’s head. Why did I leave all of this beauty behind for flat, dusty pastures and sticky heat?

Why had he decided to leave when he so clearly loved his homeland? Kier mulled it over as he trekked up a hilly stretch of road. When he was younger and less worldly wise he was afraid his family might disown him for being gay. So was it the discomfort he’d felt about his sexuality? Was it his pride, stubbornness, or the lure of adventure that made him leave his life, and his love behind? His relationship with Douglas was good—great even. And while on his travels Kier hadn’t found a man who could take Dougie’s place.

Kier was an attractive man, well-built and over six-foot-two tall and more than able to wrestle an errant Ram. Rusty freckles covered his pale-skinned face and became more prominent in the Aussie sun. Under his Reindeer bobble hat, he hid a head of Titian-red hair, and he wore a scraggly russet beard to match. He’d let his beard grow out over the last month and was relieved he’d done so as it provided a little insulation, keeping the chill wind from his face.

Kier rambled on, following the road as it rose in gradient to offer a view of a wide loch to his left as he breached the hill. He paused at the top of the hill and looked back down the windswept road he had just walked, surprised that the distance did not appear as far as it felt on his thighs. The only car he could see was a mile or so away—the heap of junk the rental company had lumbered him with. His shoulders sagged with the weight of the rucksack and his frustration.

The time was just after five p.m, and the sky was a wash of pastel hues—pinks and purples mixed in with rolling fluffy white cloud darkening at the edges with the encroaching twilight. Kier could taste the oncoming blizzard on his tongue. He put his face to the wind and pushed on.

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