Page 82 of Two Hit Wonder

Everything stopped.

Maeve's face went white. She looked at Cam. At Ellie. At Iona.

Iona couldn't speak. Couldn't look away. Could only watch as the truth landed.

"What?" Maeve whispered.

"She never told you." Cam's voice cracked. "Because she's Iona, and she protects everyone except herself. She's been carrying that for fifteen years so you wouldn't have to."

Maeve stared at Iona. Waiting for her to deny it. To explain. To say something.

Iona said nothing. There was nothing to say.

For a long moment, nobody moved. The only sound was breathing, ragged and uneven, and somewhere outside the building a car alarm going off in the distance.

Then Maeve turned, walked to the door, opened it, stepped through, and closed it behind her.

Iona stood very still in the silence that followed, and she knew that Maeve was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The path to the cottage looked exactly the same as it had when she'd left. Same stones. Same weeds pushing through the gaps. Same view of the loch in the distance, gray and flat under a sky that couldn't decide whether to rain or not.

Maeve had been gone for weeks, and absolutely nothing had changed. The world had the audacity to just keep going, apparently. The birds were still singing. The heather was still purple on the hills. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear one of Neil’s tractors rumbling across a field. Scotland hadn't noticed that her life had imploded. Scotland didn't care.

She was halfway up the path when Eejit bit her on the arse.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Maeve spun around, clutching her backside. The sheep stood there, placid as anything, chewing on nothing in particular and looking enormously pleased with herself.

"You absolute demon," Maeve hissed. "I've been gone for ages, and this is how you welcome me back? I could have you made into a jumper. Several jumpers. A whole wardrobe of knitwear."

Eejit blinked slowly, unimpressed.

"Fucking hell," Maeve muttered, turning back toward the cottage.

"Fucking hell!"

For a second, Maeve could have sworn that Eejit had gained the power of speech whilst she was gone. Then she realized that the small voice had come from over the stone wall. Her stomach dropped. A ginger head popped up, freckled face beaming with the particular delight of a child who had just learned something new and forbidden.

Hamish. Of course it was Hamish. Seven years old and already possessed of the worst timing of anyone Maeve had ever met.

"No," Maeve said. "You did not hear that."

"Fucking hell," Hamish repeated, tasting the words with obvious joy. He drew out the vowels like he was savoring a sweet.

"Stop that. Right now."

"Mum says that word's only for emergencies."

"This was an emergency. I was attacked by a sheep."

Hamish considered this with the gravity of a High Court judge. "Eejit attacks everyone. That's not an emergency. That's just Tuesday."

"It's Thursday."

"See? Extra not an emergency." He paused for a moment. "Can I say it if I get attacked by a sheep?" he asked.

"No. Go home, Hamish."