The North Star

by Wendy Cole

  I hated and loved it all at the same time.

  I loved it because it made things easy.

  But I hated it.

  His sudden change in behavior confused me. Was it me? Had he finally given up his chase? Finally gotten over whatever infatuation he seemed to have? As much as I hated to admit it, the thought bothered me.

  “Again,” he barked the word like a sergeant, pushing me to keep going.

  It was the same thing every morning. For three hours, we’d spar and rest, spar and rest. Then, Bard would declare us done, and he would take off into the woods. He’d stay there, doing god knows what until dinner. Then, he’d shower and go to sleep.

  I lifted my fists and got into stance. “Bring it, big guy.”

  Bard smirked and lunged for me. I dodged, kicked a leg behind his and pushed against his chest, just the way he’d shown me. The move sent him spiraling backwards onto the ground.

  “Very good.” He smiled and hopped back to his feet. “Another few weeks, and you’ll be a regular G.I. Jane.”

  I laughed. “I’m not chopping my hair off.”

  Bard grinned. “Neither am I.”

  “You talking or fighting?”

  Bard lunged again, quicker than usual, and sent me gently onto my ass. “Don’t get too cocky.”

  He smiled down at me with one eyebrow lifted.

  I grabbed his ankle and jerked him down beside me.

  He hit the ground and laughed, big and loud. Goosebumps peppered my arms at the sound of it.

  “Alright.” His chest rumbled. “You win today. Let’s call it.” He stood and knocked the dirt off his jeans.

  I hurried to my feet just as he turned to leave, the same way he did every day after we trained.

  It was so unbelievably boring alone in the cabin. At first, I loved the distance, but now, not so much. I’d go crazy soon if he kept this up.

  Bard started towards the tree line, and I grabbed his forearm.

  He stopped and turned back to me.

  I swallowed the solid ball of nerves in my throat and could practically feel them land in the pit of my stomach. “Um…where ya’ goin’?”

  God, I sounded so stupid.

  Bard continued to stare at me, his face like a graven image, completely unreadable.

  It made me feel dumb. Why was I bugging him? I’d made it clear I wasn’t interested, and now I was pestering him.

  “Never mind,” I removed my hand from his arm and bit the inside of my cheek.

  Bard’s eyes cut. “Why?”

  I cleared my throat. “I’m bored.”

  “Do you want me to stay?” He took a step forward and lifted my chin, eyes searching, reading.

  I swallowed hard. My heart rate spiked. “Maybe.”

  Bard’s lip twitched. He tilted his head. “Alright.”

  “You don’t have to, though.” I motioned towards the woods. “You can go do…whatever it is you do.”

  “I know that.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the cabin.

  Bard didn’t slow until we were inside. Then he gently pushed me down to sit on the sofa.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Snacks. I’m hungry.” He disappeared into the kitchen, and I could hear him rummaging through the cabinets.

  I wiped my palms onto my jeans and tried to ignore my thundering heart. Why was I so nervous?

  Bard’s presence was strange after all the time he’d spent away. I was so used to the house being empty. Him suddenly being there made it seem almost too full.

  He came back after a few moments with his arms full to the brim. He took the seat beside me, plopped two bags of chips into my lap, a bottle of soda into my hand, then spread the rest of his bounty across his thighs.

  “You weren’t kidding.” I took in the amount of food he’d gotten: three kinds of chips, two kinds of dip, a can of processed cheese, a package of cookies, and a handful of granola bars.

  Bard grinned. “I’m a growing boy, Tequila.”

  “Growing?” I snorted. “If you grow anymore, someone’s going to need to yell timber every time you fall.”

  “That would get annoying.” He shoved a handful of chips into his mouth then chomped them with a boyish grin.

  “Why? You fall that much?”

  He swallowed. “Every time I look at you.”

  Then he held out a chip.

  I took it, popped it into my mouth, then looked everywhere but him as I chewed. Why did I do this to myself? Did I want this? Yes. Yes, I did. Did I need it? Absolutely not.

  But out in the woods, on a mountain, away from the rest of the world, from life and karma and bad decisions…the line between want and need blurred

  “Can I ask you something?” he said, his tone soft.

  I looked over, but he had already busied himself with the wrapper on a granola bar. He didn’t look up, and I could tell he was taking longer than was needed.

  “What?”

  “How’d you…” He looked intently on his granola bar as if being careful with his words, “how’d you get mixed up with him?”

  Then his eyes met mine, wrapper forgotten.

  I stared at him. It wasn’t something I liked to think about, let alone discuss with someone else, but something had changed between us. Training every day made us develop a natural connection, almost like we were…a team.

  I chewed my lip. No. It would be a good thing. It could help him understand why he was so dangerous. Why I couldn’t…

  “He showed up one day and promised a better life.”

  I gauged his reaction but found none. It was just a blank expression; his total attention. I sunk back into the cushion and snatched the granola bar from his hand.

  “The foster home I was in was pretty bad. They had ten kids: one theirs and the rest temporary.” I pulled the wrapper apart, took a large bite, then chewed slow as my mind wandered off into another time. “We all slept on twin mattresses lined across the floor of their basement except for their son. He had a room upstairs.”

  I didn’t look at him. If I did, it would be too hard. “Their son was older, almost out of high school. He kept coming at me.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Bard’s voice was tight.

  I shook my head. “He didn’t get a chance. I met Drake, and…he was a lifeline.”

  “You ran away?”

  I nodded. “I did. I was only fourteen, but they didn’t really care about kids like me. We disappeared all the time.” I paused. “Drake was twenty-two…”

  “Twenty-two?” He bit the number out. “And you were fourteen?”

  I looked at him.

  His jaw was tight, his brow furrowed. “That’s…” His lips pursed.

  “He’s not a good guy, Bard. He didn’t care.”

  He looked away and nodded stiffly, eyes cast to the far wall, fists clenched at his sides.

  He’s not a good guy. I’d never bothered to make the statement before, and I suddenly realized why.

  There were no good guys before. To say that Drake wasn’t good would have been redundant. He was a man, a man I knew. It was only to be assumed. But now…

  I let my gaze roam over the profile of the man beside me, and I ran through everything I’d come to know about him.

  Bard was a good guy.

  I looked down at his fisted hand and placed mine on top of it.

  His gaze shifted over to the contact, then he heaved a breath, flipped his hand, and intertwined our fingers.

  We sat like that for a long moment, neither speaking, neither daring to draw attention and risk breaking the fragile moment.

  “Are you promising a better life, Bard?”

  He looked at me, eyes not sharp but open. Honest. He shook his head. “No, Tequila. I can’t promise something I can’t always control.” His fingers tightened around mine. “But I’d offer you mine, if you wanted it. I’d give it to you in a second.”

  My heart gave an extra beat as if answering him for me.

  I pushed th
e chips to the spot beside me and leaned closer. “Are you sure? I’ve done a shit job with my own.”

  His gaze shifted to my lips and lingered. “Let’s trade, and I’ll take care of it for you.”

  My chest rose and fell heavily. My mouth dried. I swallowed hard and wet my lips.

  Bard’s eyes sharpened.

  “Why should I trust you?” It wasn’t spoken with the same tone I’d used before. It was a genuine question, laced with the fear that kept me from closing the small gap between us.

  “Because I’ll earn it.”

  “I don’t know why you’d want to. I’m not sweet. I’m scarred and damaged.”

  “You’re like these mountains, Jessie. You’re wild, but, dammit, you’re beautiful. You could bring grown men to disaster if you wanted to.” He lifted his free hand and touched the loose hair hanging beside my face. “But I know these mountains. They’re home to me, and when I’m with you, that’s how I feel. At home.”

  I chewed my lip and narrowed my eyes. “You talk way too good.”

  “I do more than talk, Jessie.”

  “Yeah.” I heaved a breath and met his gaze. “You do.”

  I was tired of fighting. I didn’t care about wrong or right choices anymore. Karma had a way of biting me no matter which direction I went, and I wanted this. I wanted him. “I don’t want to fight this anymore.”

  Bard pushed the snacks from his lap and shifted his body closer. It put him sideways, his face lower than mine.

  I looked down at his open expression. Not pushing. Not demanding. I wasn’t aware that men possessed the ability to be patient, but Bard did.

  I’d been wasting time thinking I could deny this. I was no match, not from the very beginning. I wet my lips, stared at his mouth, then before my bravery could falter, I closed the gap and pressed my lips to his.

  He welcomed me, soft and warm and inviting. No pressure. No demands. An offering. A begging for acceptance. And I did. I accepted him. All that he’d proven to be. The kiss deepened, and my heart lightened. It felt right. It felt like so much more.

  Then someone pounded on the door.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The sound thundered through the room and shook the door on its hinges. Bard burst into action. He grabbed me, flipped me to the side, slid down to the floor, reached beneath the couch, then stood just as fast holding a shotgun.

  My eyes widened as he shook it in one hand, and the resounding click of a cocked weapon echoed in the room. Panic set in. The moment had arrived, and my heart was racing faster than I ever thought it could.

  But it wasn’t because of Drake.

  It wasn’t because I was afraid of my own death.

  Bard was here, and he wouldn’t run.

  I could tell by the look on his face, by the way he held the gun, by the way his eyes carved into me as if taking a piece to keep with him.

  Bard would fight until they killed him.

  A hundred and one emotions filled the space between us.

  Bard’s jaw clenched as the banging sounded once again. His free hand reached forward and jerked me to my feet, then before I could even recover my balance, his lips hit mine.

  He pulled me close with that one arm, and the kiss was nothing like the one we’d shared the moment before. It was as if he were trying to take a lifetime’s worth all at once. Rough. Desperate. It held no promise, only…

  Goodbye.

  Moisture pricked my eyes. A Goodbye. The end. I shut my lids tight. This was it.

  I’d dragged Bard down with me.

  The door shook again. It sounded more thunderous, even louder than the first time

  Bard pulled back and locked me in a hard stare. “Run, Jessie. Don’t look back.”

  I shook my head.

  No. I wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t ask me to do that.

  He gripped my chin and stilled me, his eyes blazing. “Yes, you will. You’re going to do what I fucking said, and you’re going to live.”

  I glared at him. “No.”

  His teeth gritted and bared. His eyes sharpened again and scanned the room. They cut to the door as if searching…for an escape? A plan?

  But the next set of thunderous knocks was accompanied by a voice. “Police! Open the door!”

  My breath caught, and a million oh fucks ricocheted around my skull.

  Officer Jones.

  I forgot.

  Again.

  I didn’t just forget.

  I broke probation by skipping town.

  I was going to jail.

  “Actually,” I whispered, “running doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

  Bard held me in place. “Let’s see what he wants.”

  I gaped at him. “He wants to lock me up. That’s what he wants!”

  “Ms. Murphy,” Officer Jones’ deep baritone boomed. “While I should be taking your ass straight to lock up, luckily for you, I owe your employer a favor. However, if you do not open this door, I may just change my mind.”

  Bard stepped around me and slid the shotgun back beneath the sofa.

  “What if he’s lying?” I whisper-hissed at him.

  “Then I guess one of us is going to jail.”

  My face slackened, and Bard noticed.

  “It won’t be you, Tequila.” He strode across the room and grabbed the doorknob.

  The minute he pulled it open, the hangman himself zeroed his hard eyes on me and pushed his way inside. “You just can’t seem to get it together, Ms. Murphy.”

  Bard stiffened beside the mountain that was my probation officer, and his eyes narrowed.

  Officer Jones turned and studied him. “I’d like a few moments with my parolee.”

  It wasn’t a request. Hell, it wasn’t even polite.

  Bard paused for a long moment, and I held my breath for what would come next.

  His eyes met mine and stuck for a reluctant pause, then with a clenched jaw, he nodded and exited the front door.

  Officer Jones grunted in the direction Bard had gone then turned back to me. “Ms. Murphy, imagine my surprise when you didn’t show up for your routine appointment.” His eyebrows lifted. “There wasn’t any.”

  His steps echoed as he walked further into the room. “I should have had a warrant issued for your arrest that day, but instead, I gracefully decided to check with your new employer.” He towered above me and, despite his admittance to doing me such a huge favor, his expression suggested I’d killed every kitten he ever owned.

  “Zeke has requested that I do your visits here. He seems to think you are in some sort of danger,” he paused and grunted, “which I don’t doubt. Under normal circumstances, I’d refuse. It’s a violation for me to even agree to this.” He took a seat on the edge of the chair, testing the capabilities of the old piece of furniture. “You are a very lucky girl.”

  Each word was spoken pointedly, slowly, and his eyes locked mine in their disapproving stare.

  I took a deep breath and released it. My heart rate gradually returned to normal, and I took a seat on the couch facing him. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Don’t thank me. It wasn’t my idea. If it was up to me, you’d have been locked up a week ago.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

  Another grunt. “Any danger you may be in could be avoided. All you’d need to do is help.”

  Help.

  Testify against Drake, against the club.

  Commit suicide.

  “I don’t know anything.”

  His lips thinned. “Then, tell me, Ms. Murphy. Why is it that you’re out here?”

  I paused. Why was I here?

  I couldn’t answer honestly, and he knew it. He knew the real reason why. As bad as things already were, I wouldn’t become the rat. They saved special treatment for those. I hadn’t even played witness to what happened when someone crossed that line, but…I’d heard stories.

  Officer Jones continued to stare at me, waiting for a response.

  “Well?” he barked t
he word, his tone lifted and demanded.

  I searched my mind, fighting to come up with something worth the trip, something that didn’t involve the club, but his presence and the looming gallows that came along with him, all of it, had my brain in a damn coma.

  “Ms. Murphy! If you can’t even explain…” His voice thundered throughout the room.

  I spat the first thing that came to mind. “Bear hunting, sir!”

  He heaved a breath, leaned back more in his chair, and shot me a flat look. “Bear hunting.”

  I inwardly cringed.

  What.

  The.

  Fuck.

  “Yes, sir.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he stared at me. It was one long hard silent stare.

  “Ms. Murphy,” he started, his tone lacking any and all patience, “not only is it not bear hunting season, but being on probation, as much as you’d like to forget,” he glared at me, “means that you are not allowed to wield, have, touch, look at, think about, or even have a dream about a firearm.”

  I. Was. A. Fucking. Idiot. I wanted to crawl inside myself and smack inner Jessie across her face over and over and over.

  “Um…I’m not.”

  “You’re not what, Ms. Murphy?”

  “I don’t have a gun. We aren’t actually hunting them. We’re just tracking them, and then we…look at them?”

  He grunted, his gaze drilling.

  Beads of sweat tickled my forehead, and I fought against the compulsion to wipe them away.

  He continued to stare at me for another long, drawn-out, and extremely tense moment. “You are a very lucky girl.”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. I know, sir. Very lucky, sir.”

  “Stop talking.”

  I rolled my lips inward.

  He shook his head and stood. “I’ll be coming back. No, it will not be scheduled. No, you will not know when. Keep your nose clean, Ms. Murphy. If I find out you’ve even thought about anything illegal, I won’t hesitate to drag your ass straight back to jail.”