Sparks in Scotland (16 page)

I laughed at his attempt to lighten the moment, though I wished I could figure out what had just happened. It was obvious he was conflicted somehow—but why? All the signs pointed to him liking me, even after knowing the truth about my last relationship's failure and what made me nervous.

Graham and I walked to the group and followed along as
­Steaphan led us to St. Rule's Tower, and then to the museum, where we saw more artifacts. But our contact info exchange gnawed at the back of my mind.

When we left the cathedral and strolled down the street toward our lunch destination, where Steaphan had made us reservations at a nice pub, it hit me what was worrying me.

I'd given Graham my phone, address, and e-mail. He'd given me e-mail only, despite me providing my info first for him to see.

The realization made my stomach pinch, and I walked in silence down the street, suddenly disheartened. Despite my efforts to shake it off, I couldn't. I knew there was a chance I was reading into this situation and he wasn't giving me a brush-off, as I was afraid.

But that didn't help the voice in the back of my mind that said once I left Scotland, I was probably never going to hear from him again. If he were really into me, wouldn't he have given me more ways to contact him? Like I had for him?

My unease about the whole thing remained the rest of the day.

Chapter
Sixteen

H
ome sweet home,” Steaphan declared
late Wednesday morning as he pulled the bus in front of our hotel in Edinburgh, the one we'd stayed in before. He opened the door to let our family out right at the front entrance.

On our way here, we'd dropped the other two families off at their appropriate places, where they'd take taxis to head to the local airport and fly home. Tilda and I had hugged hard and promised to stay in touch—with her, I could tell it was sincere and that she would. I couldn't wait to find her online and friend her. I already missed her fun sense of humor and her genuine smile.

My parents and I exited the bus for the final time, and ­Graham helped us get our bags out of the bottom storage. I thanked him in a murmured tone and shouldered my backpack. Then I looked
up at the familiar hotel and smiled for a second, glad to spend one last night in Edinburgh. It felt familiar, comforting. Plus, we were going tonight after dinner to pick up our kilts. I was beyond excited to try mine on.

Dad shook Steaphan's hand with lots of enthusiasm. “It's been wonderful. Thank you so much—you've made our trip amazing. And again, I appreciate all the help with research.”

Mom nodded and gave Steaphan a hearty hug. “Yes, and tell Mollie I can't wait to see you guys at dinner tonight. It'll be a great way to spend this last evening in Edinburgh.”

Graham shot me a sideways look at her words, which I returned with a shaky, polite smile. Ever since the awkward contact info exchange, I'd been on edge because of this guy. Why did he have to be impossible to read? I couldn't tell what he was feeling right now, couldn't discern if he had the same sinking sensation in his chest I did. His face was a smooth mask of politeness.

Then he blinked, and I swore I saw a flicker of something in his eyes, an uncertainty that made him seem vulnerable. “Ava,” he started in a hesitant tone, but was interrupted when his dad waved him over. The two of them leaned their heads together as they talked. Then Graham nodded, offered me an apologetic smile, and got on the bus, and I saw him shuffling around inside.

“—going to miss that lad,” Steaphan was telling my mom, a bittersweet look on his face as he stared up at the bus windows.

“What do you mean?” she asked him.

I paused in picking up my suitcases and listened to them, not even trying to hide my nosiness.

“Didn't Mollie tell ya?” Steaphan said, sounding surprised. “Graham's moving to America to start school there in the fall.”

I froze, unable to hide the small gasp that flew out of my mouth. What had he just said? Was it really true?

“He'll be in Ohio, living with her parents,” Graham continued. “Oh, now that I think of it, she was gonna mention it to ya tonight at dinner.” He gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Cat's outta the bag now, I suppose.”

Mom clapped a hand over her mouth and shot me a brief wide-eyed look, as if she was surprised I hadn't mentioned it to her. Of course, she was assuming I knew about it in the first place. “Oh, that's amazing! But I'm sure it's going to be an adjustment for everyone. And we'll be happy to help out however we can. . . .”

She and Steaphan continued to talk about the upcoming move and his transition to American high school, but I couldn't hear much past the emotions hurtling through me right now. Shock. Anger. Hurt. My stomach was a tight knot, and my fingers shook as they gripped the strap of my backpack.

I struggled to draw in steady breaths.

Wow, talk about being blindsided.

Not once this whole trip had Graham mentioned to me that he was going to move to America. Which seemed like a big,
big
thing to refrain from mentioning in a discussion. As I stood there, staring blindly at the sidewalk, all the pieces fell into place. His hot-and-
cold nature toward me, his apparent discomfort at the oddest times while we were talking. How he'd stiffened yesterday in St. Andrews Cathedral when Tilda had asked him about visiting America.

The fact that he'd given me only an e-mail address to reach him, not his home address.

And certainly not his forthcoming American one.

Embarrassment made my cheeks flame, and I white-knuckled my bag strap, jaw clenched painfully tight. It was hard to keep a fake smile on my face when my mouth was wobbling at the corners. This whole time I'd thought he and I had a real chance, but we never did. I was the idiot who hadn't seen it coming.

Once again.

My lungs seized, and I suddenly felt like sobbing. Hot tears burned my eyes, despite my efforts to blink them away. For days I'd been fearing our pending separation, whereas he didn't like me enough to even tell me the truth. I couldn't believe I'd fallen for a guy who cared far less about me than I did him. It was David all over again.

But worse, actually, because Graham knew my vulnerabilities like David never had. We'd shared things with each other that I'd never told anyone else. But to Graham, I was just a dumb ­American girl, a distraction to kill time during the summer, and the knowledge broke my heart into a thousand pieces.

“Earth to Ava,” Mom said, waving her hand in front of her face. Her eyes were wide with concern, and she leaned toward me. Steaphan and Dad were talking now near the front of the bus, and Graham was still inside it, so we were alone. “What's
wrong, honey?” she asked me. “You look terrible all of a ­sudden.”

It was hard to make myself speak past a grief-tightened throat. “I'm . . . not feeling well,” I finally said. My head throbbed, so it was the truth. At least partially.

She frowned and studied me. I wondered if she suspected the news had been a surprise to me, too—and not the good kind.

I pointed to my head. “Massive headache. Came out of nowhere,” I continued, knowing that would get her to stop studying me so closely. I felt bad using her migraines for my deceptive purposes, but there was no way I could talk to anyone about this right now.

I just wanted to lie in bed, cry, and figure out how I was going to scrape together my tattered pride.

Her eyes softened, and she cupped my cheek. “Oh, I'm sorry. Let's get you inside and lying down, okay? I have some medicine you can take if you want to.”

We scooped up our bags, and Mom went over to whisper to Dad, then shuffled with me to the front desk. Our check-in was quick, and before I knew it we were in a fresh room, my bed near the windows turned down and inviting me to crawl in.

I dropped my bags, kicked off my shoes, and slid under the covers, still wearing my jeans and shirt, willing myself to hold it all together until Mom left.

“Do you need anything?” she whispered as she went into the bathroom. I heard water running, and she came back out with a wet washcloth and a glass of water.

Her kindness made my heart hurt even more, and for a moment I wanted to just cry in her arms, like I used to when I was little. But I was so mortified at how blind I'd been regarding Graham's interest that I didn't want anyone to know the truth—at least, not yet. Just another secret to pack away deep in my head.

Not to mention we were supposed to have dinner with them tonight. I didn't want to ruin her last night with her friend.

“Thanks,” I told her with a watery smile, “but I'll be okay. Go enjoy lunch with Dad.”

She rubbed the hair off my brow and kissed my forehead. “Call if you need anything at all. I'll be back to check on you in a couple of hours.”

I nodded.

She shut off the light and left me in blissful, dark silence.

I wasn't sure how much time passed as I released the tears I'd been fighting back. I cried for how foolish I felt, how I'd let my guard down. But I also cried because frankly, I was going to miss him, even if it was ridiculous of me to do so. I figured Graham had real reasons for not telling me about his move, and while I didn't know them, I
did
know I hadn't imagined all of our connections. That much I could tell from honest retrospection. He'd held my hand on several occasions. Told me I was pretty. Sought me out time after time during our bus trip.

It was all so confusing and painful to think about. And my poor brain couldn't make any sense of it.

After my tears dried, I sniffled, wiped my face with the wet
washcloth, and sat up in bed. I sipped water as I got my rampant emotions under control. No matter what was happening between us, I wasn't going to spend my last day crying in bed. I was in ­Scotland; when would I ever get this opportunity again?

Grim determination filled me. I checked the time on my phone. Almost eleven thirty a.m. Mom and Dad were probably heading to their lunch reservation right now. Maybe I could text them and tell them I was up and ready to leave the room.

But first . . . Mom had brought Dad's computer in here, and it was currently sitting in its bag on the small desk. I fired it up and logged into chat. It was still early back home, but Corinne might be up if I was lucky. I had a sudden urge just to say hi to her.

AvaBee: You awake? I know it's early. . . .

A pause, then a moment later a message popped up.

FoxyCori: OMG!! So glad to hear from you. MISS YOU. Woke up a few mins ago and happened to hear my messenger chime. Glad I did!

Fresh tears sprang to my eyes, and in that moment I wanted my best friend's arms wrapped around me. But Corinne didn't know the whole story about Graham—I hadn't even mentioned him to her. So it wouldn't be fair to dump the whole story on her via chat messenger. Not to mention it would take a long time.

No, we could talk about it later, when I got home. In fact, I decided in that moment that I would tell her about David, too. Corinne was sensible; she'd help me sort through this muddle to find the truth.

And I needed to stop hiding the truth from the people who cared about me.

AvaBee: I miss you too. Sooooo much. We're heading home tmrw.

FoxyCori: It's weird not having you around. Let's have a sleepover soon, k?

AvaBee: Absolutely. I need girl time.

FoxyCori: And you can tell me all about the cute guys you've met.

When in doubt, deflect. My fingers flew across the keys.

AvaBee: And *you* can tell *me* all about how things are with Matthew. I'm sure I've missed some stuff . . . HINT

FoxyCori: Can you hear me sighing? Lol. Yeah, we have a lot of catching up to do. Have a safe trip home, k? XO

AvaBee: XO. Will holler when I touch down.

I closed messenger, then my dad's computer, and sat there a few minutes. Yeah, I didn't want to sit in this room by myself any
more. I didn't want to be filled with self-pity. I was going to hold my head up high and savor this last day here.

I grabbed my phone and shot Mom a text.
Feeling better. Can I join you for lunch? Where are you?

The phone buzzed a minute later.
Great! <3 Here's the address—it's on Princes Street, just a few blocks down. Be careful!!
Included was a picture of the building front, plus the address.

I paused, then typed,
It's just you and Dad, right?

Yup. We're not dining with Mollie and her fam until tonight. Don't worry, I'm sure you look fine. ;-)

She obviously thought I was concerned about Graham seeing me right now, looking like a mess. Well, I kinda was, but not for the reason she thought. It wasn't because I didn't want to look unattractive. It was because I needed time to get my game face on and not have my heart right there on my sleeve. Needed to pretend like this revelation hadn't shaken me so much.

By the time dinner rolled around later, I was going to be the world's greatest actress. He'd never know how much this had hurt my feelings. We could leave after this evening, each going our separate ways, and I'd still have my pride.

I darted into the bathroom and splashed water on my puffy face. I dabbed on a bit of makeup to cover up evidence of crying. Then I smoothed my hair, grabbed my fleece, and left the room. I headed down the hall, trying not to think about Graham and me standing in the rain on the Isle of Iona, or staring at Loch Ness.

Sitting on the bench in Pitlochry as he opened his heart to me.

Oh, this was going to be so, so hard tonight.

As I got outside and turned right, I saw Princes Street ­Gardens across the street from me on the left. My heart jumped to my throat as more memories bombarded me of lying on the grass right there with Graham.

Who was I kidding? I couldn't escape him. He permeated every corner of Scotland, invaded everything. Right or wrong, I was going to have to accept that and not let it negatively color my memories of this place.

Otherwise, I didn't have a chance in the world of getting over him.