Max
Against a backdrop of sparkling sea, I cruised down the coastal road towards the village of Portree on the Isle of Skye, my motorbike purring. After long days working on the outreach programme, fixing up cars in the grounds of a village hall, it was finally time to head home. Back to my job. Back to reality. But I was here on a mission.
It had also been three days since I’d walked away from Lia, and finally this morning, she’d messaged me.
Evie’s ma: All good here. We’re in our new home and settled. Evie’s fine.
I’d hit up a reply.
Max: Can you send me that picture you took of me holding her?
Evie’s ma: Have you accepted she’s yours yet?
That question had me stowing my phone to get back on the road, forcing myself to focus on another task.
During the autumn, I’d encountered a lad who clearly needed guidance in every part of his life. For a start, he’d tried to race me across the Skye Bridge—the two-lane long bridge that connected the mainland to the large island in the Inner Hebrides. I’d forced him to stop then called him on his shite, and he’d got up in my face, the little punk.
He wore an ankle tracker—a tag used by the police or probation officers.
A device I’d once worn myself.
At seventeen, I’d found myself in trouble after being caught speeding on my first motorbike. And by speeding, I was hitting it as hard as I could just for the buzz. The police gave me a slap on the wrist, plus two weeks in an ankle tracker which my parents later informed me was a deterrent more than a punishment.
I knew the fine line young lads walked. I’d felt the surges of testosterone that needed directing. I was lucky to have an understanding family able to guide me. Not everyone had that. I intended to pay it forward.
After a chat about his car, the teenager’s attitude changed. I’d helped him with minor repairs on the ancient Ford that probably wasn’t his, but then he’d vanished before we could tackle a more major and potentially dangerous issue.
Today’s trip was to hunt him down, or find out more about him from Baldwin, the outreach coordinator who lived here. He had all the contacts and suppliers, and he was bound to know who I was looking for.
All my frantic activity was designed at burning up energy I couldn’t use in other ways. In chasing down Lia. In the mindfuck that came with the wee redheaded bairn.
I couldn’t handle the Lia question so I focused on this one.
Up ahead appeared Baldwin’s house. Parking my bike, I eased off my helmet and knocked on the front door.
The man, a grizzled old biker, answered. “Max, I wasnae expecting ye.”
“I’m heading home but I had a question. Got a minute?”
Baldwin ushered me inside, and I took a chair in his tiny kitchen, refusing his offer of a drink.
The older man sat opposite, his grey eyebrows merging. “Don’t tell me you’re quitting. We need ye. The kids need ye.”
“Naw, I’m not.” Briefly, I described the teenager I was looking for.
Baldwin’s gaze narrowed. “I might know the lad in question. Black hair, attitude problem a mile wide, aye?
“Sounds about right.”
“Name’s Struan. Certainly pisses off the locals with his speeding.”
Struan. I locked the name in my mind. He’d refused to give up any details when I’d met him. “Any idea where I can find him?”
Baldwin shrugged. “No. He’s never been on my books. He doesnae live here, though I think his car stays on Skye. I’ve seen it parked up from time to time, though naw for a while. Suggests to me he lives on one of the smaller islands that doesnae have a car ferry serving it. Boats to here then drives out.”
“Can ye keep an eye out? He’s a prime target for help.”
Baldwin angled his head. “I will. You’re a good man, ye know. An asset to us. The lengths ye go to to help others is impressive.”
“I’m naw doing anything special.”
“But ye are. Most people run a mile from loud, boisterous troublemakers. Ye are doing all ye can to seek them out and help them.”
I should’ve felt pride at his words, but only shame followed. I didn’t feel like a good person, if anything, the opposite. Always angry. Never able to handle myself. Acting on instinct more than judgement.
Thanking him, I left his home and drove slowly down to the seafront. I left my bike and found a bench overlooking the sea.
Lia’s question repeated in my mind.
Did I accept I was Evie’s da?
Her description of meeting Maddock, plus his small piece of information on the act itself, hit me in graphic images. Them together. Fucking. It haunted me.
Yet they probably hadn’t made a pregnancy that way.
On my phone’s browser, I searched on paternity tests. The top articles guaranteed fast and accurate results for a few hundred quid.
Except Maddock and I shared matching DNA.
I narrowed the focus on our specific circumstances. On the twin brother issue.
The deeper I got into research, the more my gut churned.
One point screamed from the page, detailed in court cases rather than the multitude of companies selling their services. There was no test available to the public that could discern parentage between identical twins.
Which meant even if there was a small chance Evie wasn’t mine, we’d never know.
I shut down the search and stared out at the sea.
The island’s pretty view was a blunt fuck you to my turmoil.
One question needed answering. I called Maddock.
“Hey, I was just about to ring ye,” he said. “Gabe’s flying into Scotland later and asked if he could stay with us. But Rory and I are heading out this afternoon. We’ll be away for at least a week as she’s meeting her boss then we’re going for a driving tour. Gabe can sleep at our place, but would ye hang out with him? No clue what his plans are, but he could use a friend.”
Gabe was a pilot friend of Maddock’s. They both flew helicopters and had met during training. Gabe had ended up staying with us over Christmas instead of going to his own family. Maddock suspected there was bad blood there, but Gabe didn’t share much. I liked him, though. He was chill to hang out with.
“Nae problem. I’ll babysit him.”
Maddock gave a wheeze of a laugh. “Better get the practice in.”
He knew I’d seen Lia and Evie. I’d sent him a one-line message to update him, and to ask him and Rory to keep the information to themselves until I was ready to share.
“On that…” I chewed over my words then spat them out. “I looked up paternity tests, and there’s no way of telling for certain who Evie’s father is. I know what ye said but I’m stuck on that possibility she isnae mine.”
Maddock went silent, then blurted, “She’s naw mine, Max. Fuck, I didnae even known her name until ye said it, nor would I have recognised her ma in a lineup. I made a huge, drunken mistake, but I still wrapped it up, and the chance of that failing is next to nothing. Ye, on the other hand, went against everything Da taught us. The result of that is a child. There’s no ducking the fact.”
“I’m naw ducking it…” I heaved an exhausted breath. “It’s pride, aye? Lia was my first love.”
“And I ruined everything, I know.”
“It wasn’t ye. She’d already left me. Now this has slammed into me like a train. It’s hard to make sense when everything I thought I knew is up in the air.”
My twin considered his words. “Then work out what ye know as fact. There’s a ninety-nine-point-nine percent chance that ye are the bairn’s father. I am more than happy to never discuss this again and would never make a claim. That means if ye reject her, she’ll be fatherless.”
“I’m naw rejecting her,” I half shouted, jumping from the bench to pace the pebbled beach. “After what happened with Cait, and how hard Da fought for her, ye have to know I’d never walk away.”
“Then why the fuck are we having this conversation? There’s your answer.”
Was it? I’d needed him to say all of this, and suddenly it all fell into place.
“Fuck,” I bit out. “I’m a da.”
My brother sucked in a breath. “Aye, ye are. When are ye telling our folks?”
I closed my eyes for a long second, centring myself. “I’ll do it tonight.”
“Ye know they’ll be fine about it, after the shock.”
Our parents were the best, but Maddock had no idea of half the shite I’d laid at their door over the years.
“Aye. I’ll let ye know how it goes.”
He hung up, and I stared at nothing.
Maddock’s goading had forced me to one clear point.
I…wanted Evie to be mine. Hated the thought of her being confused over the subject as she grew. My sister had gone through a stage of feeling hurt every time she thought about the disconnect in our family. I could remember her sobbing on Ma’s lap, wishing she could be hers after some arsehole kid at school teased her over it.
Aye, that wouldn’t happen with Evie. I couldn’t hold on to a what-if when her identity was at stake.
Acceptance continued its slow creep over me.
I’d known about the bairn for just a few days, hadn’t told a soul yet, outside of those who knew, but aye, the matter was a non-issue.
I returned to Lia’s texted question and wrote an answer.
Max: She’s my daughter. No doubt.
It took a few minutes for Lia’s reply to come in.
Evie’s ma: I needed to hear that.
The picture followed, and I stared at the tiny girl in my arms. Through all the fuss, I’d barely asked any details, but tonight, I’d return home and share the news with my parents. They’d ask every question under the sun.
Max: When’s her birthday?
Evie’s ma: 3rd March. She was born in Dubai.
Max: Why there?
Evie’s ma: I was sick with the pregnancy and basically lived in a hospital there for months.
I turned my phone in my fingers, wanting more information. From our messages alone, a sense of longing hit me. For the child I barely knew, but also for her mother. Fuck it. I called her.
Lia picked up. “Hey,” she said softly.
“Is it all right to call?”
“Bit late for that question. But yes, it’s fine.”
“Where are ye?”
She hesitated. “I can’t say over the phone. We’re safe, though.”
I didn’t understand the rapid moves her family made, but I’d started to have suspicions. “Is your da a spy?”
Lia snickered. “No. He’s an expert in conflict management.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s brought in to handle tense standoffs between governments, or sometimes private individuals.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
“Why would you? It’s specialist and never reported on. But he’s incredible,” she added fast. “The best in the world.”
Hence the entourage that surrounded him.
“Where are you?” Lia asked at my pause.
“Isle of Skye. I’m heading home this afternoon so I’ll see my parents. I’ll tell them about Evie.”
“I’m sorry they couldn’t get to see her on our visit. Another time.”
My heart gave one big thump. “Can ye bring her back?”
Lia took an audible inhale. “You want me to? I was half expecting you to serve court papers rather than want to see me again.”
“I don’t want that.”
“Me neither. I told you, I want her to know her father. I know so little about you. Plus there’s practical things I need, like family medical history. I’ve been asked this before and had no answer for your half of it.”
In the line of my vision, boats bobbed on the briny sea, the scene tranquil. Yet a chill ran down my spine. “Max McRae, twenty-one. Healthy as anything. Is there a reason ye were asked? Was she ill? Wait, I want to know about ye, too. What made ye need a hospital stay?”
A voice sounded Lia’s end of the line, and she replied, muffled, then came back to me.
“I can’t talk now. There’s a lot in that, so can we catch up later?”
What the hell did that mean? I strode the beach.
“At least tell me about Evie,” I almost begged.
Lia’s interrupter spoke again. She made a sound of frustration. “I’ve got to go. Evie’s fine, don’t worry. But you ought to know, she doesn’t speak.”
I squinted. “She’s a bairn. They don’t speak.”
“By now, she should. Got to go. Is it okay to call tonight? I don’t want to interrupt your time with your parents.”
“Dinna be daft. Call when you’re ready.”
She hung up, and I returned to my motorbike, parked up by the road. This evening was going to be full-on, and my chest squeezed at the thought of telling my parents such a huge piece of news.
Then I’d also get to talk to Lia again.
For so long, I’d hated her. She’d torn out my heart and shredded the pieces, but a new story was emerging. One where she’d made a mistake in who she trusted and got so sick she was in a hospital bed.
I couldn’t help it, the surge of protectiveness that gathered in me. The hate had been instant, smothering the love I’d had for her.
But peel back the surface, and too much still lurked underneath.
I doubted I could ever trust her again, and probably the same applied in reverse. But one fact remained—Rory had been right. I’d been stuck, unable to get over Lia. And now… I had no idea where I was.
If we could talk without arguing, like we’d managed today, I was ready to work out something new.
