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“Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because you’ve given me no reason to. You think I don’t remember all the times I had to drag you out of trouble when you were younger? The fights, the shoplifting, the underage drinking? And now this, stealing from guests. It’s . . . beyond shameful.”

His words cut deep, not because they’re particularly harsh—I’ve heard worse—but because they drive home how little faith he has in me. Seven years I’ve been on the straight and narrow, for Christ’s sake! Well, mostly straight. Hooking up with the occasional hotel guest? Sure. But I haven’t been in a fight, haven’t got on the wrong side of the law, haven’t given him any reason to doubt me for seven bloody years.

“Aye, well, maybe if you’d been around instead of burying yourself in work all the time, things would have turned out differently,” I say bitterly.

Da grips the steering wheel even tighter, and silence once again stretches between us. Then he exhales—a shaky, weary sound.

“I’ll admit I could have done a better job, but I wasn’t expecting your mother to walk out on us—wasn’t expecting to become a single parent. And I couldn’t give up my work. I needed to keep money coming in.”

“Aye, so you had enough in savings to bail out your eldest son one day, right?”

Even as I say it, I wince inside. I meant it as a wry sort of joke—something to break the tension—but it lands flat. Maybe a bit cruel. There’s an awkward pause before Da lets out another heavy sigh then falls quiet again.

The countryside continues to roll past outside the window. Hills and sheep and old dry-stone walls, so bloody normal you’d hardly think anything had happened. I drum my fingers on my knee, restless.

“You look tired.” The comment comes out of nowhere, Da’s voice a touch softer than before.

I glance at him. “Aye, well, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He nods, and for a moment—just a moment—I think he might, you know, ask how I’m doing. But then he says, “Johnny wanted to come with me to the station. He’s been worried sick about you.”

My wee brother, always caught in the middle of the shitstorm between me and Da.

“Let me guess, you told him it wouldn’t take two people to collect me? Said he needed to work his shift at the resort?”

He doesn’t respond to this.

“I’ve not spoken to Johnny in a while, seeing as you asked him to keep his distance. How is he doing?”

“Stressed. Upset.” A pause. “He believes you’re innocent, you know.”

“At least someone in the family does.”

Da opens his mouth, hesitates, then shuts it again and shakes his head, apparently thinking better of whatever he was about to say. Instead he says, “You should meet with my solicitor. Discuss your options. I’ll cover the costs.”

“You don’t have to⁠—”

“I want to,” he interrupts. “Whatever has happened between us, you’re still my son.”

It’s not exactly a heartfelt breakthrough, but I suppose it’s better than nothing.

We don’t talk much more until Da drives back into Bannock and pulls up on Main Street by my motorcycle, which is still parked outside Cat’s flat. A couple of locals walk past and peer through the window at us. Da shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Reminds me of when you were younger,” he says quietly. “The stares. The whispers.”

I don’t reply. What is there to say?

“Don’t make me regret paying the surety, Robbie. Show up at the police station every week, as you were told, and stay out of trouble.”

“Aye. Will do.” I get out of the car. He drives off without any further words.

Is this what family is supposed to feel like? Because it just feels exhausting.

I glance up at Cat’s flat, but I don’t try her door. She’ll be at school now, teaching. Besides, I’m not fit company for anyone at the moment—not until I’ve had a shower and changed my clothes.

I swing my leg over my bike and start her up, the engine’s low growl vibrating up through me like an old friend. The ride home is short but cathartic, the road blurring beneath my wheels, the engine drowning out things I don’t want to think about. For a little while, I can almost forget about the cell, the handcuffs, the accusing stares as I was led to the police car. Almost.