Air wouldn’t come easy, as if I’d forgotten the rhythm. His confession was too much. There was nothing to hang on to, nothing to grasp in reality or in my mind.
“But I heard you. You love each other. I heard you at the mall.”
“She says that, but I don’t.” His teeth ran over his bottom lip before he spoke again. “I love you. It’s always been you.”
Too much didn’t make sense, too much didn’t compute. “You went back to her so fast. You—”
“You turned me down.”
“I was dying!” The ends of my words pitched upward with desperation.
“I know. That’s what Shane said.”
“Shane? What does he have to do with this?”
“He’s behind the whole thing.”
“Stop,” I begged, my hands pressed over my ears. “Stop. Please stop talking.”
“Lindy, let me explain.” His hands clasped over my shoulders. I shoved him back with both hands.
“No, because I saw you with her, and you were happy and you forgot me. You were nowhere to be found when I needed you because you were with her!” The tears began again. The flame was dying. I stumbled back to the fire ring and began propping it back up with smaller tinder.
He made no move to follow me, but he spoke anyway, voice soft and distant, lost in the memory. “I was trying to be happy. There’s a lot you don’t know from that time. If you’d let me explain—”
“No,” I said without lifting my head. “You’ve said enough.”
We sat on opposite sides of the fire. Though I could feel his dark eyes watching me, I dared not look up. Still, as we doused the fire and prepared to sleep in what could be our last night of freedom, I heard his words repeat in my mind.
I fell in love with you, Huckleberry.
♦ ♦ ♦
My teeth chattered in the cold. I hadn’t slept much in over forty-eight hours and the exhaustion wore on me. Every twig cracking, every rustle in the leaves outside our tent, sharpened my nerves and pushed adrenaline through my system.
When I did manage to sleep, the dreams plagued me. Blood slipping over my skin, beads of red, thick and slippery. Dirt choking my mouth no matter how many times I tried to spit it out. I could feel his breath on my shoulder, lips tasting the open wounds, and the smile tickling my skin as he approved. No amount of begging could stop it, my pleas were for nothing. His fingers pushed up into my hair and the grip tightened as he yanked my head hard, exposing my throat. His voice hissed in my ear, “Cassidy, I need you.”
I pushed back, arms swinging, slamming against him as my scream tore through the night. “Get off! Get off me!”
“Lindy, it’s me. It’s Ryder,” he pleaded. “Please, listen to me. You’re safe.”
As I was about to grab hold of his voice and everything in his world, my loose hair slipped over my shoulder, releasing a shiver through my scalp. I snatched my knife from where I stored it by my bed and set it against my hair in the next second. Before I could slice through, Ryder yanked it from my grasp and threw it out of my reach. I dove forward, desperate to cut the length away before Dallas could ever take hold of it again.
“Lindy, stop.” Ryder gripped my shoulders with all of his strength and pressed me back again. His lips found mine, his kiss insistent but as desperate as I felt. Fingertips cradled my jaw and his opposite palm slipped down the length of my arm to wrap around my waist.
For a moment, it was right.
For a moment, I was healed.
When the kiss broke his lips stayed near mine, hovering only a second away from me. His forehead stuck to mine with perspiration, damp as it had been after he’d climbed the rock to set the phones. How long had he wrestled me from my dreams?
“I probably shouldn’t have done that.” His chest rose and fell against me as he spoke. “I didn’t know how else to reach you.”
Warmth radiated from his mouth as he spoke. His lips pressed against my mine once more. It would’ve been easy to let go, let it keep happening. I could breathe in the strength I needed from him instead of finding it on my own, but it wasn’t right, and I used both hands to push distance between us.
The dim morning light betrayed the hurt painted in his expression. “You’re frozen. Let me hold you.”
It was a net, a tangled mess of feelings I couldn’t even begin to label. If I let myself fall into it, there was no way I’d ever pull free.
“No.” It took all my discipline to say the word before I sank back onto my bed.
“You’re cold.” He tried reaching out for me again.
I stayed beyond his grasp. “It doesn’t matter.”
As he stared at me, I felt every scar, healed or not, glowing, calling out to show him exactly how broken I was. Finally, he dropped down again and his breathing evened over time.
I wasn’t so fortunate. My body shook with cold and fear while my lips blazoned hot with the memory of his kiss. It’d been months, I’d nearly forgotten what I felt in his arms and against his lips.
Life paled in comparison.
The slow and steady cadence of his breathing filled the tent. I’d noticed early on that he slept on his stomach, legs fully extended with his hands beneath his cheek for a second pillow. When I was positive he slept soundly, I pulled myself to his side, lifted the elbow nearest to me and wrapped myself in his warmth.
Immediate tension flooded his muscles the second I pulled his arm around my waist. The bag he slept in rustled as he shifted to slip his opposite arm under my head. I reminded myself that it didn’t matter. I tried to convince myself that this was about temperature and survival. Our breathing was the only sound for a moment, mine short and controlled, his long and shaky. His heartbeat hammered in my ear where I rested against his chest, steady but fast. Every muscle was ready, expectant for anything I might need.
It was wrong.
It wasn’t what he needed.
It had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with how I felt when he’d kissed me.
“When?” I asked into the morning light, knowing he’d hear me.
“When what?” His voice was uneven as if he’d forgotten how to control the volume.
“When did you fall in love with me?”
The muscles beneath my ear bounced once as he considered laughing. “I’m not sure. When I first saw you on that bar stool? Maybe on the bluffs? I don’t think it was all at once but a little at a time, more like realizing it one day like something I’d known all along.” His fingers hovered over my hair, as if he might lace them in, but he resisted on my behalf. “But I knew it as soon as I saw you with him. He had your heart and it belonged with me. I had to get you back.”
I wanted to tell him it wasn’t possible, there was nothing left to have. How could you hold a ghost? But my eyes grew heavy as my limbs warmed and relaxed. I hoped there was enough left of me to explain my actions in the morning.
Chapter 13
Not wanting to face any of my impulsive decisions, I escaped the tent before Ryder. I built a fire and tried to go about business as usual even though I still tasted him when I licked my lips. By the time he woke, I’d already fixed breakfast, washed the dishes, filtered new water from the river, and made a tentative plan for the day. Each task built the walls around me again, and I felt ready to face him.
“Mornin’ Huckleberry.” He stepped from the tent, hair mussed and smile crooked with the knowledge of what had happened in the night. He was already dressed in jeans, though he still wore the Henley shirt I loved.
I pressed my lips inward and rubbed the chill from my cheeks with my palms. He ate quietly, obviously aware that something had changed with the rising sun.
“I thought we could keep pushing north today, maybe we haven’t gone far enough. I mean, I know we don’t want to just stumble into their camp or anything, but maybe we’re still on forestry land.”
He nodded thoughtfully, but changed the subject. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about your necklace. Shane talked
about the sparrow like it had significance. Is there something I’m forgetting?”
I pulled the leather strip and the golden pendant from where it hid beneath my shirt. “It’s not us.” The word ‘us’ had extra weight after the night before that I hadn’t anticipated. “Someone used to call me his ‘little sparrow.’ I guess Uncle Shane thought it’d be funny.”
Worry creased his brow as he set his empty bowl aside. “Not Da–”
I stopped him before he could say the name. “No, an old boyfriend named Amos. I guess I have a history of strange nicknames from men.”
Jealousy crept into his voice. “I personally think Huckleberry is a lot cuter, but why Sparrow?”
I thought of Amos, his thick English accent, deeply chiseled dimples that made me melt the first time. “He was a history and folklore junkie. He loved fables and little stories that explained the origin of things. Long ago, sparrows were believed to take the spirit of a loved one to heaven. He told me that I was like the little brown bird, an angel in my own respect.”
Ryder shifted uncomfortably. “Okay, so it’s a little more romantic than a line from a movie.”
I thought of Amos and all the pain he’d brought into my life. “Trust me, things didn’t end well between us.”
Ryder paused and watched me for a moment. I let him. The sun barely crested the mountains. The cars hadn’t started on the road just yet and for a moment it was peaceful.
“Can we make this work?”
He gained my full attention with those five words. “What?”
It hadn’t been his most thought out moment, and it showed in his distress.
“Us, Lindy, can we get it right this time?”
The cold air chilled my mouth as I struggled to explain myself through the shock.
“Ryder, I’m not ready for anything. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready again.”
“I know. I mean, I don’t know. It’s just, this is the last chance I’m giving to this relationship we have.”
“Is this an ultimatum?” I couldn’t look at him. I fought the anger and frustration, but it was too much. “What right do you have to put me in this situation?
“It’s too hard on me to keep—”
“Too hard on you? Are you kidding me?”
“Think about it from my side, Huckleberry. Every time I put my life back together, you come around and shatter it. I can’t keep doing this.”
“So, go back to her, if that’s what you want. Don’t let me stop you.”
Hesitation held him as he stalled on the words. “She has never been my plan. You are. It’s always been you. She’s some semblance of happiness if I can’t have you.”
“I don’t believe you. You walk away from me the second life isn’t perfect. You weren’t there, Ryder. I fell apart and you weren’t there.”
“I never left your side!” Ryder hurled words at me as if he couldn’t keep them a secret any longer. His upper lip quivered as he tried to remain in control. “I was on the sidewalk holding your wound shut while your blood poured over my skin. I sat outside your surgery bay for six hours waiting to see if you’d pull through.” His breath became ragged with emotion. “When you got put in ICU, I slept in the hall.” He paused long enough to drag his palm across his eyes. “Vanessa dumped me, and I didn’t care. But I never left you. Even when your mother tried to have me barred from your room, I called in some favors. I snuck in after hours to sleep with my head against your hand in case you woke up.”
It was the one memory I had, pressure against the back of my hand and love radiating through my body. Snatches of arguments, yelling and accusations fuzzed up my mind. Had my mother actually forced him to leave?
“Most of the time you didn’t know I was there, or who I was, but I didn’t care. I loved you and nothing could keep me from you.”
I’d assumed he’d left me. The relapse, the injuries, I thought it’d been too much for him and he’d left me for Vanessa.
“Why don’t I remember it? Why’d you stop—”
“You went home,” he cut me off. “When it got closer, when you were more coherent each day, it became harder to sneak in, and I began to wonder if she was right.”
“Who?”
“Your mom. She said I was the reason you relapsed. She held me responsible for sending you to Rockin’ B, and I guess I believed it. I stopped by your house. I brought some sour worms to see if you remembered me.” He looked away in shame. “Your mom said you forgot. She said it’d be better if I didn’t come around anymore because it’d help leave Rockin’ B in the past. I thought it might be true, so I left.”
I hurt him.
He hurt me.
Round and round.
Over and over.
“I was devastated and Vanessa knew it.” Ryder’s chin dropped as he refused to look at me. “She has a way of picking me up when I fall apart. I wanted to be happy. If couldn’t have you, I wanted to try to have someone.”
The log scratched my legs as I sunk down again. “I never forgot you, Ryder.”
“I know that now,” he said as he took a few steps toward me. “Shane told me everything. We got close while you were away. He knows how I feel about you.”
My mouth twisted as I chewed at my inner lip. “There’s too much. We’ve hurt each other too much. I’m so broken. I don’t know how to make anything work.”
Bark crackled and fell as he sank onto the log next to me. “I don’t need it today. I know I haven’t been patient in the past, but I can wait. It doesn’t have to be yes. Right now, I’d be happy to be waiting on a maybe.”
Emotions tugged my heart toward him, but reason held me steady. “I don’t think there’s anything left of us.”
The log shifted as he inched closer to me. “I might have believed that before, but after last night,” his eyes scanned my face as if he were reading a familiar book, “I like my chances.”
As his face tilted into mine, my breath shortened and my plea became sincere, “Ryder—we can’t.”
I barely felt his fingertips on the right side of my face, but he pulled me closer anyway. “Tell you what, if you feel nothing, I’ll drop it. We’ll never talk like this again.”
My head spun with questions, but only one escaped. “And if I feel something?”
His all too familiar grin peeked into my peripheral vision as he whispered, “Then I’ll have my maybe.”
The pressure tickled at first, the short burst of my breath flashing against his skin and back on mine. I almost pulled away, but the insistence of his fingers held onto the part of me that wanted to know for myself. His kiss pressed into mine, and we flew. Better than the previous night, better than any memory I’d guarded away. Tingles of electricity shot up my spine and woke my mind to everything I’d forgotten.
Ryder broke the kiss for a moment and stared at me, breathless. “It’s all there, right we where we left it.”
I had no words, but I needed him close to me. Gripping the soft fabric of his shirt, I pulled him near again and we disappeared into something I’d never felt.
Joy?
Giddiness?
Heat?
No, something I couldn’t describe with the words I knew, something that was beyond everything I recognized.
His mouth moved along my cheek, over my jawline as my head tipped back and the nightmares of my past turned fuzzy. I clung to him as if he was life itself.
“Do you feel it?” His whispers burned hot against my skin. “I love you.”
Reality snapped like a twig underfoot. Dallas pinned me against a wall. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t pull free. Terror strangled me as my trembling hands lashed out to shake him off of me. Screams burst from my throat, unconscious on my part as I sobbed out my pain.
“Lindy, it’s me! It’s Ryder!”
I jerked my hands free, breath heaving, staring at Ryder, his eyes wide with fright. There were no words to explain what had happened, or where I’d gone in my mind, but I’d been there. I’d felt it as rea
l as the log beneath me.
“What was that? What just happened?” His breath heaved, but he refused to drop his grip on my arms.
I shook my head and tried to understand it myself. The cool air kissed my flushed cheeks and set my tears to chill. Birds chirped in the trees. Animals shuffled through the brush. Dallas was gone, but for a second…
“I told you I loved you and you freaked out. Why?” The question was a demand, as if he sensed the reason, and yet didn’t want to say it out loud to hear the awful truth. I stuttered, but I couldn’t explain the break. I searched the trees, hoping for some sort of answer written there. A flash caught my eye—metal in sunlight.
Then a second flash.
Not animals.
“What was that, Lindy?” Ryder asked again, but I had worse fears to deal with.
They emerged from the trees, two, then four, finally seven men, all armed. We were surrounded.
Chapter 14
He didn't see them, not at first. His greatest concern was still my reaction.
“Talk to me, Huckleberry.”
“Ryder—” I couldn't find anything beyond his name, like the moment before an accident when words won't come in logical order because the fear paralyzes you.
His back straightened as he saw the first one. Not that tall, but the rifle made up for his height. His face was shielded by a thin beard, but his eyes were nearly black and narrow in their absolute rage.
“This is private property. What are you doing here?”
I was suddenly aware of my mouth, too much saliva and yet dry at the same time.
“Thomas,” a man in the back said, “shut up. Raife will question them.”
Ryder rose to his feet, hands up in a defensive position. “We're looking for a group we heard about.” He moved to place himself between me and the threat, but when the danger was on every side, it wasn't of much use. “We heard about Eden's—”
The butt of a rifle swung and cracked against Ryder’s skull, slamming him down against the dirt. The damp soil soaked through my jeans as I threw myself over him. The rifle swung again. I braced for its impact. One of the guards set a hand to the rifle to stop my attacker.
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