Page 166 of My Fake Dating with the Grumpiest Highlander
Even if I miss her laugh when I don’t hear it.
Even if the idea of losing her terrifies me more than any medical emergency ever has.
Even if I told her the truth:
I can’t keep pretending anymore.
“Dr. McLeod!”
I look up.
Jamison strides toward me, his walkie-talkie crackling.
“Is your medical station operational?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Excellent. We’ll need you this afternoon. Trial events begin in an hour.”
He hands me a paper covered in schedules and notes.
“Familiarize yourself with the program. And remain available.”
Then he disappears again.
I glance at the schedule.
Hammer throw. Caber toss. Tug-of-war. Other delightful opportunities for people to injure themselves in spectacularly stupid ways.
Surprisingly, the afternoon passes in a blur of minor medical issues.
A sprained ankle. Sunburn. A kid who got his finger stuck in a gate.
Nothing serious.
Nothing demanding my full attention.
Which leaves far too much room for my brain to think about Mary.
And Jamie MacNeil.
I haven’t seen either of them since this morning.
I don’t know where they are.
What they’re doing.
What they’re saying to each other.
And I hate it.
Ragnar stays near the medical tent the entire afternoon, stretched out in the shade like a loyal bodyguard.
“At least you’re on my side.”
He bleats in response, which could mean absolutely anything.
Around four o’clock, while I’m packing supplies after treating a minor burn, a figure appears beneath the tent.
