Page 85 of The Highland Game

“I . . .” Jamie starts, his voice quiet but thick. “I told you about my panic attacks. I don’t open up about that stuff to anyone. But I told you.” His Adam’s apple bobs, and when he speaks again, there’s an ache in his words that cuts right through me. “Doesn’t that mean something? I want this—us—to work.”

His plea is raw, vulnerable, and so utterly sincere that it takes everything in me not to throw caution to the wind right and fling myself into his arms. To tell him we’ll figure it out somehow, whatever it takes.

But no matter how hot the chemistry burns between us, no matter how much I care about him, it doesn’t magically erase the things working against us. The rivalry between our businesses isn’t just some petty spat; it’s foundational to who we both are right now. If we try to build a relationship on top of all this chaos, it’ll only backfire spectacularly. And then we’ll both end up hurting even more than we are right now.

Rather than give Jamie hope where there isn’t any, the kindest thing—the only thing—is to be honest and direct with him. Which is why I say, “We can’t work, Jamie. We just can’t.”

The finality of my words settles between us, sharp and suffocating, like the last nail in a coffin.

“Anyway . . .” My throat tightens painfully. “I should go.”

And so, before I lose my nerve completely, I turn from him and leave.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

JAMIE

The rain patters against the snug’s window, a steady drumbeat that matches the throbbing in my head. I’ve spent the last hour pretending to focus on my laptop, but my thoughts keep circling back to Maisie. Always Maisie.

I pour myself another dram of Glen Garve, the whisky sliding down smooth and warming my chest, though it does nothing for the hollow ache inside me. It’s not like Maisie and I were even an item. There was no big dramatic breakup because we were never together in the first place. And yet, those months we spent gaming—laughing at stupid jokes, learning each other’s quirks, saving each other’s arses in boss battles—felt like something. But now . . .

I tried working it out of my system earlier, hammering through an extra-punishing session at the gym. My muscles are screaming from it, but my head is just as much of a mess as before.

Even last night’s whisky tasting—by all accounts a roaring success—couldn’t distract me. Not really. Kyle’s presentation was spot-on—no surprise there—and we shifted a decent number of bottles. But I couldn’t enjoy it, not knowing Maisie’s pub quiz was quieter than usual because of us. God, I’m pathetic. And today—without an event to pull people in—we’re quiet again. Not that I mind right now. The state I’m in, I probably shouldn’t be talking with customers.

My phone pings with a notification: SassyLassie has posted a new video.

I shouldn’t watch it.

I really shouldn’t.

But I do.

Maisie appears on screen, her flame-coloured hair gleaming under the glow of her ring light. Her warm, easy smile lights up the frame as she speaks with that calm, self-assured charm she has down to an art. “Right, a number of you said you’d like to see me play Highland Legacy, so here it is: my first gameplay video! And to mark the occasion, I thought I’d do something a wee bit special.” She explains she recorded the footage earlier with an American streamer called LevelUpLucas, some big shot with hundreds of thousands of followers. “All right, without any further ado, here we go!”

LevelUpLucas is . . . a bard (easily the most annoying of Highland Legacy’s classes). Not only that, but his avatar’s ludicrous bright purple hair doesn’t fit the game’s gritty vibe at all. Of course, it perfectly matches the stupid purple hair that LevelUpLucas has in real life. Go figure.

Am I just looking for reasons to dislike this guy because I’m jealous that he got to play with Maisie when that’s exactly what I want to be doing? Of course. Would I have any issues with his hair in literally any other situation? Doubt it. But I never claimed to be above pettiness.

“Hey, levelheads!” His voice is bright and obnoxious. Ugh. “Guess what? Today I’m going to be playing Highland Legacy with an actual Scottish person. Yep! Like, from Scotland—for real. And her accent? Oh man, just wait till you hear it. You’re gonna love it. Some of you might already know her—she went viral last week with her very first video. How crazy is that? She lives near that stone circle from the scene we all freaked out over. Wild, right? Anyway, say hi to my co-op buddy for today . . . SassyLassie!”

Her avatar appears alongside Lucas’s—the same one I’ve spent countless hours adventuring alongside. Then Maisie appears in a little box in the corner of the screen, adjusting a massive pair of headphones.

“Hi, everyone!”

Of course, just like LevelUpLucas, Maisie’s brightly coloured hair matches her avatar’s. When she does it, though, it’s clever and endearing, and that’s a totally impartial observation. Definitely not driven by feelings or anything.

The video is snappily edited: quick cuts of them bantering as they track down a group of kelpies accused of dragging villagers into their loch lair. The action is perfectly paced, their avatars leaping between moss-covered stones as tendrils of enchanted water whip towards them. Maisie delivers the final blow—a streak of lightning erupting from her staff—and Lucas whoops loudly. “Are you sure you’re not really a mage?”

Wow. That’s his banter? And this guy has how many followers? Maisie and I do so much better when we play together.

“Normally I just set everything on fire,” Maisie admits. “It’s kind of my thing. But I do have a few other tricks up my sleeve, and kelpies call for something with a wee bit more zap.”

“Fire magic, eh?” Lucas’s avatar whips out a lute and strums it like it’s some kind of mating call. Oh God. “That’s not all that can spark things up in this game, right? Have you, uh . . . ever explored the game’s romance mechanics? Asking for a friend.” He winks at the camera like he thinks he’s hilarious.

“No, not really my thing.” Maisie laughs lightly, but it’s the kind of laugh you give when you’re trying to smooth over an awkward moment. Her smile wavers for just a fraction of a second—not enough for someone like Lucas to notice, but enough for me.

“Oh, come on!” Lucas presses. “Maybe you and I should give them a shot! Give the people what they want, right?” His avatar sidles up close to hers on screen, an exaggerated pantomime of intimacy. “We all know why the TV show is so popular—and why your stone circle video went viral.”