Fable of Happiness Book Two

by Pepper Winters

  I still hadn’t freed him from his past.

  Inhaling heavily, he’d looked around the room as if something would give him whatever answers he was looking for. Goosebumps had spread down my back, wondering if he’d been thinking of us just as I had. Had he come to the conclusion that I was trustworthy? That I was strong enough? Was he ready to talk to me? Could we possibly spend the evening together like any other couple, cuddled by a fire, enjoying each other’s company, before slipping into bed together?

  Even as such fantasies filled my head, his gaze landed on mine and shot them dead. He flinched, unable to hide the anguish inside him, the confliction, the toppling mess of his psyche. “You’re...you’re no longer chained to me.”

  I glanced down at the chain I’d wrapped around my ankle, a link-snake that formed a chunky anklet. My head tipped up as I glanced at his waist where I knew the other half of our broken chain remained locked around him, the small length tucked in his back pocket. “No, I’m not.”

  He stiffened. “Will you leave? Tonight?”

  My back straightened into steel. “You honestly have to ask that question?”

  He shrugged, dropping his stare again. His usual guarded personality had dimmed. I didn’t know if it was from the firewood chores draining him of whatever health he’d regained or if whatever had happened between us in the gardens was worse than I realized. Either way, he was...subdued.

  Quiet.

  It made me afraid.

  Standing, I reached for him. “Kas...please. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  He stepped out of my reach. “You should leave. While the weather still holds.”

  I reared back, pain slapping into my heart as real as if his palm had just struck my cheek. “It wasn’t the chain keeping me here. We both know that. I thought we’d both realized I stopped looking for a way to get free a while ago.”

  He sniffed, his scruff soaking up the meager light, his shadowed eyes darker and complex. “All the same, if you leave in the night, I’ll-I’ll understand.” He cleared his throat. “Whatever promises you made me, consider them broken.”

  “Are you talking about the promise I made to help you prepare for winter or the one where I promised to remember what you forget?”

  His nostrils flared as he backed toward the door. “Both. You’re released from both.”

  My hands balled into fists. “And if I don’t want to be released? If I want to stay here and help you? If I’m prepared to stay during the winter? If I’m ready to jot down everything that we do and keep a diary on every interaction we share, what then?”

  “Then I’d say you sound as if you need a new hobby. You should go home. Back to the family you keep saying is missing you.”

  It took a few seconds to get my temper under control. I inhaled and exhaled, schooling my tone into something that wouldn’t end in a fight. “I made the choice to stay, Kas. In the bath, I told you I chose you over my brother.”

  His eyes flared, followed by a bolt of hunger and pure concentrated need.

  My body reacted to his.

  The air positively sparked as if candles sprung to life between us.

  But then he shut it all down again.

  He shook his head as if he couldn’t bear the thought that I’d put him first. As if he wasn’t used to such a thing. As if he felt guilty that he’d become so, so important to me.

  “Don’t,” he whispered, taking another step toward the door. “Don’t put me first.”

  I followed him. “Why? Why shouldn’t I? I promised you I’d help you get better.”

  His hand struck up, barring me from chasing any further. “I’ve changed my mind.” His face twisted as if he swallowed something painful, as if his heart had forgotten how to beat. Rubbing his chest, he growled, “I think it’s best if you go. I don’t need your help anymore.”

  Without waiting for me to reply, he vanished into the darkness of the foyer, disappearing into a mansion that’d watched too many children been broken down, twisted up, and spat out into despair.

  I swayed to go after him.

  I locked my knees and forbade it.

  I’d let him go, nursing the new wounds he’d given me, dragging myself to the bathroom where I’d endured an icy shower. I hadn’t cried while I dressed in a powder-blue nightgown with a lace collar and spaghetti straps. I didn’t give in to the pressure as I shrugged into my hoodie and crawled under my stolen blankets to lay staring at the stars.

  And even now, even with hours between this moment and that, I still refused to give in to the crush of agony that Kas was so skilled at delivering.

  I sighed for the millionth time.

  Enough, Gem.

  Just...enough.

  I sat up.

  On nights like this at home, I’d get up and either scroll through some climbing forums or go for a climb. I had a twenty-four-hour pass to my local bouldering gym. I’d often haunt the slabs and be found repeating routes at six in the morning when other people would arrive for a session.

  God, I want to climb.

  I tipped my head back and looked once more at the sky. A little overcast but no rain. It would be a perfect night for a workout. I could slip into my gear and grab my climbing shoes and find something in which to take out my loneliness.

  The urge to go rushed through me.

  Kas wanted me to leave?

  Maybe he was right.

  Perhaps, I should leave for the night. Regardless that my body was exhausted from firewood gathering, I had a well of nervousness and unsatisfied desire.

  A small climb, even just halfway up the cliff, would do wonders for my peace of mind.

  Do it.

  Scooting out of the blankets, I darted through the games room and into the library. There, I found my rucksack sitting by the desk. The food and chocolate bars remained in the downstairs closet, but my ropes, quickdraws, and other equipment had never been unpacked.

  Kneeling beside it, I unzipped the heavy bag and rifled through my gear.

  The instant my fingers touched the nylon rope and the cool metal of the carabiners, my heart panged for an easier existence. Homesickness filled me, and tears pricked my eyes.

  The dry smell of chalk and the slight whiff of my climbing shoes brought back so many memories of Joshua and me arguing late at night. How he called me reckless when I regaled tales of almost tumbling off an 8A boulder with no crash mat. Of my mother curling her nose with confusion as I tried to show her how my new harness worked. Of Katie, my closest friend, when we challenged each other to speed climbing and both came in woefully slow.

  I sat back on my heels, struggling not to cry.

  What were they doing now?

  Was anyone still looking for me?

  Where was Josh? Did he gather a search party, or was he too used to his wild sister disappearing on some rock expedition, only to pop back up online with a new video, perfectly fine?

  I was guilty of not corresponding very well when I was on the road.

  Once, I’d gone two weeks without messaging anyone. Too caught up in the present moment, camping at the base of a tall cliff, editing my videos by solar charger at night, and generally being selfish with my time, cutting everyone out until I was ready to re-enter society.

  Oh, God.

  I hugged the sudden cramp in my belly.

  Maybe that was why no helicopters had scanned the area or why no hint of a rescue party had appeared. Maybe Joshua had just rolled his eyes at my vanishing act—conditioned to expect me to randomly appear on his doorstep, covered in mud, tired from living in a tent, gushing with stories of stone that he couldn’t care less about.

  He probably thought I would’ve activated my locator beacon if I was in any real danger. The very same beacon he’d watched me buy when we’d gone shopping together. He’d listened to the same lesson I had as the shopkeeper told me how to use it, when to activate it, and what to do if I ever needed help.

  Perhaps I’d been a product of my own capabilities, just li
ke Kas.

  I’d bought all the gear and invested in all the skills, convincing those around me that I was perfectly safe and not to worry. Now I’d been left to my own devices, just like I’d wanted. Just like Kas had been forgotten by those he’d fought to save. Hadn’t he taught those he loved that he was strong enough to commit murder, to bury bodies, and to do the unthinkable to get them out? His family wouldn’t have viewed him as a boy who needed caring for but a hero who was invincible.

  Perhaps that was why they never came back for him? Believing he’d already left and was achieving the impossible somewhere, not needing them to have his back.

  Sucking in a shaky breath, I reached for my video recorder, tucked up safe in a fleece at the bottom of my bag.

  The urge to climb vanished beneath a crippling urgency to see my brother. To hear him. To remind myself that I was loved, even if I currently lived with a man determined to prove otherwise.

  Turning on the recorder, I skimmed through the data currently saved on the memory card. A few climbs were on there, along with a couple of shots of Katie as I taught her a higher grade.

  Ah, there.

  Taken a few months ago at my home.

  A rare afternoon when Josh and my mother had popped round. I’d been excited and nervous to host my family. I’d cleaned my house until everything sparkled. I’d bought a cake mix and done my best to have perfect cupcakes ready for when they arrived.

  It hadn’t quite gone to plan.

  A small smile tugged my lips as I pressed play and sat cross-legged on the floor. It’d been a spur-of-the-moment video. My recorder had been next to me in the kitchen when they’d arrived, and I’d had a sudden urge to immortalize my crazy, joking brother before he got married, grew serious, and stopped teasing me.

  “Hey, my favorite Gemstone, what’s up?” Joshua strode through my front door without knocking. He sniffed the air like a bloodhound. “Ohhh, do I smell sugar?”

  “You do indeed, and they’re not ready yet, so stay out of my kitchen.” My voice sailed through the air, my hands keeping the video steady on his face.

  He narrowed his matching hazel eyes, a glint appearing. “Not allowed in your kitchen, you say?” He stalked me, his arms bent in front of him and hands forming into claws. “You should know by now not to tempt me with rules. I just have to break them.”

  The video jiggled as I backed up, my laugh pure and simple. “Oh no, you don’t, Joshykins.”

  His nose wrinkled. “You know I hate that nickname.”

  “Too bad.”

  “I’m gonna get you.”

  “Don’t you dare. Stay back.”

  He roared like a T-Rex, waving his arms around like an idiot. “Fear me, pathetic human.”

  “Get a grip.” I snickered. “Mom!” My mother entered my home, swinging off her handbag and placing it on the side table by the door. “Tell him to stop being a douche.”

  “Rarrrrrr!” Josh gnashed his teeth together.

  My mother rolled her eyes. “Gosh, you two can never just be normal together, can you?”

  “Nope!” My brother winked before turning back toward me with an annoying smirk. “Get running, Gemstone.”

  “You’ll ruin my cupcakes!”

  Joshua snarled like a dinosaur again and launched himself at me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  I COULDN’T DAMN WELL sleep.

  I’d hoped, after a day of heavy lifting and labor, that I’d crash the moment I entered the dorm. But my thoughts were swimming, my temper was short, and every inch of me snarled with hunger to finish what I’d started with Gemma in the garden.

  Having her stay with me while I’d cooked dinner had grated on my nerves, and sharing a silent meal in the dining room had pushed me closer to my limit. Every moment in her company had become harder and harder, all while a conclusion formed from smoke to solid.

  A conclusion that’d been floating in my head ever since this afternoon. Ever since she hacked off the chain and ensured we were no longer tethered. No longer bound against her will.

  Free.

  I’d watched her as we gathered wood. I’d seen her looking at me with desire in her eyes, occasionally opening her mouth to talk before pressing her lips together as if she didn’t know where to start.

  I’d wanted to talk too.

  I’d wanted to apologize.

  To ask if she was okay.

  But the words lodged in my throat, slowly sliding into my stomach where they putrefied.

  I couldn’t understand how she wasn’t running—regardless of her assurances that she wouldn’t.

  I was in constant pain, waiting for the moment she took off, never to be seen again.

  Every hour that she stayed did something to me.

  Every minute that she watched me prepare dinner had confirmed what I’d already known had to happen.

  I’d been alone for eleven years. I’d had Gemma for only a few weeks.

  Yet all it’d taken was a single afternoon to change everything. Or at least, I thought it was a single afternoon. Who knew where my head had been when we’d shared a bath together the night before? What had we discussed? What promises had we given? Had I already reached the conclusion that, despite my selfishness at wanting to keep her, my conscience could no longer condone it?

  I couldn’t remember the moment my heart switched loyalties.

  I couldn’t remember yesterday...but today? Today had affected me to the point where I was done with all of this. Done with keeping her prisoner. Done with pretending I felt nothing.

  I couldn’t do this anymore because I wanted her so fucking much.

  I wanted her more than I wanted to keep my secrets. I wanted her with every breath, ensuring my very existence switched from me to her.

  It felt as if the switch had happened in a flash, but really, it’d been creeping over me ever since that first fateful day.

  I hadn’t wanted to admit it. I’d buried it like all my other unwanted thoughts, but tonight, I couldn’t hide from reality anymore.

  The truth of how I felt was undeniable, unexplainable, and went against all my convictions that I would never have the strength to love again.

  Turned out, my heart was a liar.

  And it made me fucking sick to think how I’d treated her—treated her the same way I’d been treated with no remorse, no kindness. I’d fed off my vengeance and justified my actions every time I forced myself upon her.

  I’d shut down the human pieces of me, the parts that recognized what she could become. I’d done my best to fight the inevitable.

  But now? Christ, now I felt that guilt, that remorse. I felt it like a hammer, smashing my skull, my heart, my bones.

  I wanted to take everything back.

  I wanted to confess that she’d yanked out my heart and claimed it for her own. That having her care for me for weeks, nursing a concussed asshole with the temper of a bear and the history of a brutalized boy, had finally snapped me into pieces.

  She’d systematically turned me against myself.

  And it’d all come to a head as she willingly, happily, worked beside me, hauling armfuls of wood, wiping sweat off her brow as she stacked neat rows for winter, helping me prepare for a season where everything died.

  Each winter, I’d always hoped I’d die.

  I didn’t have the balls to slit my wrists or starve myself to death, but winter did offer a roulette of existence. All it would take was to walk outside in the dark with no clothing. To lie in the snow. To go to sleep. It wouldn’t be quick, but at least it would be over.

  Winter was when my will to stop surviving became vicious and cruel.

  But this winter wouldn’t be like that.

  I would have company. Her company. I would have a body to snuggle up with. A girl to talk to. A lover who I would do anything to make happy.

  And wasn’t that the fucking kicker?

  I finally accepted that I couldn’t live without her. I wouldn’t be able to face another endless blizzard w
here ice coated everything and loneliness ate my very soul.

  I couldn’t do it.

  I wouldn’t survive another winter on my own.

  Which meant I was choosing to end myself because she couldn’t stay here.

  She couldn’t be trapped in this valley with me when the snow arrived and covered everything in thick white. She couldn’t exist in this house while my mind slowly disintegrated into nothing.

  The amnesia would only get worse.

  The blackouts could last for years.

  I was a menace, a danger, and I would never be able to live with myself if I hurt her again.

  I was her enemy, even if she no longer saw it.

  I was her killer, even as she worked beside me and didn’t run.

  She has to leave.

  The moment she’d hacked off the chain, I’d known it.

  The second she asked me to touch her harder, I’d crumpled inside because I finally knew that the kid inside me—the kid who’d sacrificed everything for those he loved—was still in there. Still fighting to be good, even if he’d disappeared for a while.

  All it’d taken was Gemma choosing me, showing me that I could be wanted, preparing to help me survive a brutal season, and she’d resurrected a piece of me that I’d thought was long dead.

  A piece that’d died the moment my family left and never came back.

  A piece I didn’t want anymore.

  I didn’t want to be the martyr. I didn’t want to put her needs before my own. I needed her help harvesting, prepping, and weatherproofing for the snow, I knew that.

  But now? Christ, now I wouldn’t be able to accept her help. Because that damn piece of me that should’ve stayed dead was back. It was her fault. Her fault for being so fucking wonderful.

  I hadn’t stood a chance, had I?

  I didn’t stand a chance in hell of not falling for her kindness, empathy, and understanding.

  But now I had a problem.

  A massive, hellish problem.

  I couldn’t put her in harm’s way. I couldn’t allow her to stay because I couldn’t guarantee her safety. Thanks to that part of me that still wanted to be good, I was choosing, once again, to do whatever it took to protect those I loved.