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385 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 5, 2025






“From that moment on, I locked my feelings deep inside my chest. I flirted and taunted and threatened to steal her away from my brother in the night. I ruffled her hair and flicked her nose like a big brother would.
But mostly … I avoided her, because every time I saw Juniper Ross, she owned me a little bit more.”
“You ended things over a bloody video call, Alistair,” I hissed, glancing around to make sure no one overheard us. “You said I was the love of your life, got down on one knee and asked me to marry you, then only six months later – just after my dad had died, no less – you broke up with me in a two-minute conversation”
“Now, Macabe.” Eyes fluttering closed, she fell back on her elbows. “Are you going to fuck me better than he ever did?”
“It was the tight squeeze of her eyes that had me stumbling back. If I continued, would it even be me fucking her? Or the memory of
him?”
* * *
“Allow me to be crystal clear this time.” My eyes bounced between hers. “I wanted to fuck you because you’re you, that never changes. But I also knew why you wanted me. I’m not a good man, sweetheart. I’ve betrayed my brother in my mind more times than I can count, and I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d selfishly taken what you offered when it was little more than pain-fuelled revenge for you.” Biggest regret of my life. Well, second, it sat right below letting Alistair meet her first.”
“rumours around the village suggested I slept about, but the truth was, a monk had seen more action than I had in recent years. The last time a woman so much as touched me was so long ago, I couldn’t even recall her face. Not that I’d tell Juniper that, I had some pride left.”
* * *
“I was man enough to admit she’d struck me stupid, following me to my car, tempting me until I could scarcely remember my own name. I’d been half crazed from a single taste. If I’d hoped it would be enough to cure my need for her, I’d been sadly, foolishly mistaken. My balls were still blue five years later.”
“How many men have touched you since that night?”
“Probably fewer than you think.”
“That’s all you’ll give me?”
* * *
“I hadn’t so much as touched a man for almost a year before this thing with Callum”
“Alistair was back in Kinleith.
It felt as though he’d crossed an invisible boundary line, spinning all my carefully crafted calm out of control. The control that Callum had been chipping away at for weeks now, if I was being honest.”
* * *
“I wasn’t certain what had affected me more. Seeing Alistair for the first time since he shattered my heart or his brief head tilt when he’d spotted Callum and I together.”
* * *
“It can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it can’t go anywhere (she means the relationship between her & the H).” And the longer it went on, the more dangerous a game we were playing.
April folded her arms. “At the threat of sounding repetitive, but again, why?”
“Alistair! They all have so much going on right now with Jim, I’m an extra problem they don’t need.”
“Alistair gets zero say in your love life. And I’ve seen the way Callum looks at you, you’re the furthest thing from a problem for him.”
“My brows flew up, about to ask what the hell that meant, when Callum’s attention slid from the game to the sideboard. The ring box I usually kept hidden in my junk drawer sat open, the diamond glinting in the fresh band of sunlight filtering through the window. Everything with Callum had left me feeling … muddled and I’d pulled it out last night to torture myself. I must have forgotten to put it away.
The floor tilted. My steps slow and choppy as I rushed to snap the lid shut. I knew it was too late. The pinch of his lips told me he’d already seen the contents.
Neither of us spoke for a long moment. The seconds passing almost audibly when I refused to look at him.
Then he was at my side, his large hand covering mine, skin surprisingly rough as he slipped the box from my fingers and brushed a thumb over the closed lid. “Why do you still have it?”
“To remember—” The words rose up my throat, tangling at the tip of my tongue. “Someone can swear you’re the love of their life a thousand times, that doesn’t make it true.”
He set it back on the sideboard carefully. “Did he cheat on you?”
The question surprised me. Had he and Alistair never spoken about this? “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters.”
No, he hadn’t cheated. Sometimes I wished he had so I could look back and pinpoint the moment it all went wrong. A reason to rage and scream. A reason to burn his pictures and cut up his clothes. When a person abandons you for the simple reason of not loving you enough, everything becomes very … quiet. A small wound that lingers, festering beneath the surface.
* * *
“You look like a fucking queen in his dress. You keep his ring on your sideboard like a goddamned trophy, what am I supposed to think, Juniper? I told myself over and over again that it didn’t matter, so long as I got to keep you.”
“The only reason I wore this dress is because I look phenomenal in it and thanks to you I’ve finally reached a point where I don’t look at it and feel terrible about myself. I didn’t think you’d even recognise it.”
“The past few weeks have helped me realise— you have helped me realise that I’ve been using it (her engagement ring) as a kind of physical representation of how unlovable I am.”
“His light brown hair, the exact same shade as Alistair’s”
* * *
“the blue eyes he shared with Alistair flashing a sharp cobalt.”
* * *
“He’d grown more handsome in the year since I’d seen him, features a little more chiselled with age, the scruff of facial hair a little longer. I used to find him too rugged, favouring Alistair’s more refined features.”
* * *
“Better than Alistair?”
I pursed my lips, considering. “Different. It’s hard to fully compare. Sex with Alistair was always incredible, but this was … I don’t know, charged. In a way I’ve never experienced before.”
* * *
“in true Callum Macabe fashion, his stream of chatter didn’t halt. The man could be six feet below water and still find a way to steal the conversation. One of the most obvious differences between him and Alistair, Callum didn’t simply speak, he performed. A born storyteller. When passionate, his eyes dazzled and he embellished with his hands like a conductor leading a symphony, making it all the more impossible not to get drawn in.”
* * *
“I couldn’t pinpoint precisely when it happened, but the starling blue Macabe eyes had morphed into an affiliation with him, not a memory of Alistair.”
* * *
“His hair was shorter too. Shorter than I’d ever seen it. His shoulders were broader, ready to burst the seams of his thick navy jumper.
He looked good (her ex).
I hated that I noticed and compared, because Callum looked better.”
* * *
“I wanted him so badly (the H) that even Alistair’s return hadn’t curbed the hunger for long.”
* * *
“I squeezed his fingers. He squeezed right back, bringing his other hand around to cover my knuckles, holding on like I was a lifeline. I’d never been that for anyone. For my entire relationship with Alistair, he’d been the epitome of a stiff upper lip. Always in control. Rarely brought his work home with him. Never once needed to lean on me”
* * *
“Loving Alistair had been easy. And still it had broken me. I’d allowed it to break me.
This thing with Callum wasn’t love … not yet. It was worse – it was hope.”
“I heard the two of you fucking once, did you know that?”
What?
“You sighed his name, over and over and over. I thought I’d go insane from the sound of it.”
“We were more than a couple, June, we were best friends. I failed at that.”
“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I don’t expect you to.” When I came back to face him, the bleakness in his expression caught me off guard. “I know I don’t have the right to ask you for anything but … I feel like there’s this gaping hole in my chest and you’re the only person who can fill it.”
“Alistair … I’m not …” Shit, I couldn’t believe I had to say this. “I’m not in love with you anymore, I haven’t been for a long time.”
“I know that,” he said, a little hollowly. “I told you, I want to spend time with you. To be … friends.” His eyes, almost identical to Callum’s, flicked away as he spoke. Flustered. Hesitant. “Do you think it’s possible?” So damn hopeful.”
* * *
“Alistair gazed at her like she’d hung the fucking moon, eating up every word from her lips”
* * *
“Are you still in love with her?”
He was silent for long enough for that niggle to grow wings that lurched around stomach. “No. At least not in the way you think. Obviously, you know how impossible she makes it not to care about her, even when she’s infuriating.”