by London James
Josh kneels next, and he takes my hand with his. I don’t miss how Rowan slides his eyes to the side, watching the stranger comfort me. “Don’t ever apologize. This isn’t an easy situation. I don’t expect it to be easy. It’s good you know the reality of the situation. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t need this mask, and you wouldn’t be crying. It’s okay to feel fear when we are facing fear itself.” He squeezes my hand, and I automatically compare it to Rowan’s. It’s lighter, Josh’s fingers are softer, which is odd because he is a police officer and Rowan works inside. It would make sense for it to be opposite.
I take a glance at Rowan to see his jaw twitch. I don’t see why he cares. Whatever it is between us is just a mistake. So, I squeeze Josh’s hand back in appreciation, “Thank you, Josh. I’m sorry. My mom is all the family I have left, my dad died when I was younger, so losing her too, the thought is…” I can’t even find the words to explain how awful the thought of living my life without my mom is. She’s my best friend.
“I know,” he nods, sapphire eyes gleaming with nothing but earnest. “You ready?” he asks, helping me to my feet.
Rowan stands to the side, clenching his fists. “We need to get going. Why don’t you and I pair up, Everly?”
“I’m okay with Josh, thanks.”
Rowan doesn’t seem happy, but he gives a curt nod. “Take care of her,” he growls, before turning around and stomping away to stand next to his partner for the search.
“Nice guy,” Josh says with a click of his tongue. “I have a feeling there is a story there.”
“It isn’t worth telling,” I mumble, wiping the extra snow off my gloves. “Let’s get going. I have a feeling this storm isn’t going to wait for us.”
He tilts his chin down in agreement and whistles again to grab everyone’s attention. “Let’s go!” he shouts.
The search and rescue dogs bark as they pull against the already tight leashes, trying to break free to do what they do best: rescue.
All of us climb into separate vehicles. There are about ten of us, and with everyone paired up, we are in five trucks. The dogs are in the back, along with another officer just in case the dogs jump out mid ride, if they find something.
I lean my head against the window, staring out at the vast space my mother is lost in. The snow hits the truck, and it looks like we are driving through a tunnel of white. I can’t see anything. I don’t know how Josh can see out the window right now.
“We’re going to start with the west side of the mountain. Those are the trails beginners take, but there are certain parts that are dangerous. After that, we will call it a day and start again tomorrow.”
I snap my head to the left. “What do you mean, you will ‘call it a day’? My mom is out here. We can’t just abandon them out here when we get there,” I argue. “I’m not leaving her. You can leave without me. I’m staying.” I’m starting to get hysterical. My voice is high-pitched, and those damn tears come again.
He grabs my hand again, but this time, it feels different. Not for me, but the way he is holding me. There isn’t pressure as people do to send comfort, but it’s soft as he lays his fingers over mine.
And leaves them there.
Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?
“It’s dangerous for us to be out here later. You would be risking your life. If you decide not to come back, I will forcefully remove you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. The threat is real. He isn’t being sexual or flirting. The clenched jaw speaks for itself.
“It’s my mom,” I whisper, arguing weakly.
“I know it is, but your mom won’t want you to put yourself in danger or harm’s way. You have to take emotion out of it and think logically. I know that’s hard to do, but that is the only way we will find your mom. Emotion won’t work here.”
I slump against the heated leather seat and cross my arms. I know he is right, but it doesn’t make it hurt less. I don’t say anything in return. I just stare out the window, watching the headlights eat the snow-covered roads. I wonder how Rowan is doing. He seems more sensible than I am right now.
The blinker turns on, and we take a sudden left. The dirt road leads up a steep hill. The ground is covered with a blanket of snow. No tracks that I can see. Everything is undisturbed and quiet. The creaking of the metal frame surrounding the truck is the only thing that can be heard along with the crunch of the snow pressing into the ground because of the tires.
“We questioned surrounding guests at the hotel to see if they knew where your parents were, but no one knew exactly where they went. They all said, ‘hiking on a mountain’. I don’t want you to worry, not yet.”
“It’s been three days, Josh. The chance of them being alive is slim. You know it, and I know it; you’re just trying to find bodies now. No one can survive this cold weather long.” I mutter and open the door before the truck comes to a full stop. I need out of the cab of the truck with this guy, and I need him to stop touching me. Right now, I don’t know if it is to console me or something else.
Emotionally, I’m not in the right mindset to decipher it right now. I want to concentrate on finding my mom and that’s it. My boots hit the ground with a soft thud, since the snow breaks my fall. Four more trucks line up behind us, and Rowan is the first one out of the vehicle next in line.
“Are you okay?”
I sigh, exasperated from his back and forth. “I’m fine, Rowan. Go find someone that isn’t a mistake and worth your time. I’m done here.”
I walk around the front of the truck, and Josh jumps out from the driver’s side, zipping up his Denver Police Department-issued jacket. If I wasn’t blinded by Rowan and his ‘Rowan-ness’, I would think Josh is a good-looking guy.
And he takes control of situations, which is really attractive. “Okay, I want us to split up in two groups of five. Anything smaller risks people getting lost or injured without help. So, stay together. Keep your radios on for check-ins every fifteen minutes. The snow gets bad this high on the mountain.” Josh pulls a ski mask over his face, and I do the same with my pink one. He smiles at me and shakes his head. “You ready?” he asks.
“What?” I ask, wondering what is so funny.
“Nothing,” he shakes his head, but the smile doesn’t leave his face.
“Alright, let’s do this,” Rowan says, walking ahead of Josh like he is the leader.
“Can’t you go with the other team, Rowan?” I ask, not bothering to hide the disdain in my voice.
“My stepsister is going with people I don’t know. Of course, I’m coming.” He emphasizes the word ‘step’ like I did earlier, knowing it means nothing to us, but it is fuel to add to the fire, nonetheless.
I curl my lip at him, ready to spew hot, red flames of anger when Josh walks in between us and points ahead. “See the break between the trees? That’s the trail we want to go on. If you see any broken trees, limbs, plants, or any type of disturbance, let me know.”
I glance around the forest. Snow covers the leaves. All I can think about is how my mom’s dead body looks with snow on it. I gulp and try to clear the image out of my head. It isn’t easy. Not when I see logs laying around everywhere, and I have to do a double-take to make sure it isn’t our parents.
Chapter 19
Rowan
We enter the penthouse around seven at night. Everly tosses her wet jacket and scarves on the floor and whips off her pink ski mask. I know the situation is dire, but she looks so adorable in that mask. I can’t voice that, though because ever since I said what I said last night, she’s withdrawn herself from me.
It’s what I wanted, isn’t it?
Then, why in the hell is it bothering me so bad?
“They are out there, Everly.”
She doesn’t say anything to me, just ignores me as she slams the door to the bathroom, leaving me in the tension-laced air. I let out a heavy breath while unwrapping the scarf from around my neck. I walk over to the fireplace and turn the electric logs on t
o heat the place. I lay out our wet clothes on the floor, hoping the fire will help dry them, but since it isn’t a wood burning fireplace, I’m not sure how well it will work.
I turn my head toward the bathroom and sigh. I don’t remember a time where she and I have been so many worlds apart. It’s hard to believe that ten years ago, we were practically attached at the hip. Now, I barely know the woman in the other room.
The bathroom door opens, and when she walks out, my breath catches. She changed. She let out the braids in her hair, and they curl in synchronization down her back and shoulders. A beautiful, cascading, waterfall of honey. Her cheeks are still a little pink from being outside for so long, but her lips are glossy, and her green eyes stand out from the mascara painting her lashes.
“I’m going to the bar,” she announces.
The hell she is.
“Really? Come on, Everly. We need to rest for tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to be here with you any more than I have to, Rowan. I need a break from you. I’m going to go down and get a drink.”
“And look for someone to fuck,” I snarl.
She deadpans me with a look that could kill, if it were possible. “Contrary to popular belief, Rowan. When I go to a bar, I actually go for a drink. It isn’t my mission to fuck every person I meet. If I meet someone, great. If not, that’s great, too, but my mission isn’t just to go searching for cock. And even if it was, it is none of your damn business.” She unzips her suitcase and pulls out a pair of blue flats.
“Really? You packed to go out? How worried are you about your mom?” I chuff, adjusting the temperature of the fire.
She marches up to me and points a finger at me as she stares down at where I am crouching. “You don’t get to judge me. You don’t get to talk about my mother. Your days of insulting me or caring, or whatever the fuck you do, are over. Stay away from me. And keep my mother’s name out of your mouth. You’ll just soil it with all the hate in your heart.” Everly turns on her heel, grabs her purse off the tan loveseat, and slams the door, leaving me in the vibrations of the aftermath.
I rub my hands together and put them near the fire to try and get warm. Her words run over and over again in my head. She is right. I hold a lot of hate and resentment in my heart toward her, but I don’t hate her. I hate what she did to me, to us, to the rare friendship we had. This has to stop. I can’t take it anymore. It’s time to let her go and put the past behind me because the pain controls every decision I make.
We are different people now. Making it work would be like trying to get oil and vinegar to mix. Impossible.
I sigh when I stand, knees already cracking at the ripe old age of twenty-five and take my phone out of my vest to dial Gray and give him an update. While the phone rings, I walk over to the bar and pour myself a scotch.
“Hey, bro-cha-cho,” he greets, bringing a smile to my face.
Sighing, I bring the scotch to my lips. “Hey, man.”
He whistles low, “I know that tone. That bad?”
I let a moment of silence take a beat and sip my drink again. I have no idea what to say. I called him for a reason.
“No luck finding your dad or Barbara?” he asks.
“No. Nothing. We just got back from the search. It’s fucking cold, Gray. The snow is deep and just getting worse. There is no way they are alive. It’s impossible.”
“Hey, humans used to live in fucking caves and shit and made fire with rocks and twigs. Give them more credit. You’d be surprised what people can do when they need to survive.”
“I hope you’re right,” I plop down on the couch and watch the flames lick the logs.
Gray must have leaned back in his chair because the familiar squeak of that damn thing is in the background. “How are things with Everly?”
Just the sound of her name has me rubbing my temples from the onset headache she causes. “Just fucking peachy. On top of everything else.”
“You guys haven’t talked yet?”
“We did a little,” I say, murmuring around the rim of my glass.
“You had sex with her,” he says with awe, but not shock. “I’m not surprised. The sexual tension between the two of you is sizzling. What’s the problem? Was it bad?”
I snort into my drink, and it spews out of the glass, burning my nostrils and my throat. “No. It never is or was. I said something I shouldn’t have, and now we are on the outs, for good now. It’s what is best; I haven’t forgiven her for what she did.”
“Because you haven’t asked her why she did it.”
“I have too, Gray. She hasn’t told me.” I chug the rest of my drink and pour myself another glass.
“Hmm, well, where is she now?”
I clutch my glass too hard, and it shatters right in my palm. Scotch and sharp shards of glass hit the floor, but not before soaking my hand and leaving cuts all over my skin.
“Fuck.” I shake my hand to get the scotch off because that shit burns, but that is a bad idea because it also flings blood everywhere. Great.
“So, she is somewhere you don’t want her to be? Got it,” he continues.
I run to the bathroom, phone to my shoulder so I can use my uninjured hand to hold my other wrist to try and keep my palm up. I don’t want to spill any more blood. I turn on the silver faucet with my elbow and shove my hand under the running water and hiss from the pain.
“I don’t care where she is, what she does, or who she does.” That is a damn lie. If she is with someone else, and they make her feel how I make her feel, moaning, coming, screaming, I will lose my fucking mind.
It isn’t my business. It really isn’t, but at the same time, the hell it isn’t!
“You’ve always been a really bad liar.”
“Gray, I’m not in the mood to talk about it.” I’m really not. I’m plucking pieces of glass out of my palm, and I reek of scotch now. I didn’t even get to enjoy the expensive liquor...
“You never are. Well, just to let you know, while you’re up there, sipping your emotions away, she is chatting it up with some guy. Because she is. Everly is gorgeous. You can’t really think she is down there nursing a beer without attention.”
I squeeze my fists again and hiss, forgetting I currently have glass in one. “I’m going to get off here. I need to go to bed early. The snowstorm comes soon, and if we don’t find my dad or Barbara before it hits…”
“Then you aren’t going to,” he sighs. “Man, I’m so sorry. I hope you find them. Keep me updated, okay?”
“Yeah, will do.” I bring my head off my shoulder and catch my phone before it falls to the ground and end the call.
My head hangs with defeat over the sink, and I grab the countertop, squeezing it with all my strength. The blood running from one hand drips down the curve of the bowl, but I don’t care. I’m tired. I’m so tired. I’m drained of caring so damn much.
From this moment on, I want my energy to be concentrated on finding my dad and Barbara. I know it will be hard; it always is. Even with all the stress, the horror, having Everly here is such a distraction. She makes my heart ache less with her presence. I know. It’s hard to believe when all we are is at each other’s throats, but she has taken the pain away with her company.
When she is near, I don’t think about how I’m never going to see my dad again. And I know I won’t. This isn’t a rescue mission anymore. It’s a recovery for their bodies. Everyone is too nice to say they are dead, but I know. I feel it. Another chunk of my being is gone.
I let out a shaky breath and wrap my hand with a towel, tucking the edges in and tying it off since I don’t see any tape. Next, I rinse all traces of blood out of the sink before cleaning up the mess I made in the room as best as I can. Then go back to the bar to pour me another drink.
Tints of red peek through the make-shift bandage from the small cuts decorating my palm. A loud exhale escapes my throat as I lean against the bar. It’s all too much. I rub my temples with my fingers, not caring for the pinch of pain in my h
and. What if I have to plan a funeral? I don’t even know if my dad left a will or something like that. I have no idea how to plan a funeral. Did he want to be buried? If so, what kind of coffin? There are a million different options these days. Did he want to get cremated? What do people do with the ashes?
He better have something in his will or I’m going to do something he would never want, and I’ll always think about it and wonder if he is disappointed, looking down on me. And Barbara? Hell, I hope Everly knows something because I’m lost when it comes to this. My dad dealt with the funeral arrangements for my mom, plus, I was so young when it happened; I couldn’t do anything about it.
“Fuck,” I mutter underneath my breath and bring the scotch glass to my mouth.
Giggles outside the door echo down the hall. I glance at my Rolex and see a few hours have already gone by since Everly left to go to the bar. I figure it is some other woman outside going to their room when I remember the penthouse is the only room on this floor.
So, the laughter must be coming from Everly. I sit on the couch and cross my legs, trying to seem like I’m not worried about her or thinking of her. I want to look casual. I bring the burning amber to my lips and sip the hot, burning liquor until it is scorching my throat.
“No way,” she says through a fit of little chuckles.
“Come on,” a deeper voice answers.
I uncross my legs, place them on the floor, and stand. When I walk by the bar with angry strides, I sit my glass on the dark cherry wood before going to the front door. Opening it, I see a tipsy, hot little number and a drunk man that isn’t much taller than Everly.
His eyes are wide as he backs away. “I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend? I don’t do that. I don’t fuck up relationships. I’m no homewrecker.” He lifts his hands in the air, surrendering. “I swear, I didn’t know.”
“Him?” Everly slurs. “He is just my stepbrother.”
There’s that fucking word again. My jaw locks together in an angry snarl. It takes all I have to keep my mouth shut. My molars drag against each other, threating to crack under the pressure as she looks at me with narrow eyes. As if she has won this round.