“Well, you’re here, worst case,” I mumbled, staring down at the tools and trying not to blush.
“Hey, you better not burn yourself,” Ben said, his tone brusque for a moment, and then he proceeded to explain how to strike it.
I was amazed at his patience, as I sat there for about ten minutes, hitting it too slow or too softly to create a spark. “Ugh,” I muttered.
“Keep trying,” he said as I sighed, and paused for a long moment. “You can do this.”
“It will be tomorrow by the time I get this lit,” I said, ready to hurl the flint into the fireplace.
“I don’t have anywhere to be,” Ben said, shrugging.
A glow spread in my chest, and I smiled. Then I hit the flint with the steel again. Suddenly the char cloth filled with a dim red light. “I did it! Look at that!” I cried out.
Laughing, Ben said, “See? Now blow on it, help it catch.”
While I blew on it, Ben pulled out a heap of what looked like yellowish hair and held it up. “This is oakum, it’s a tinder substitute. Always good to carry around, ’cause finding tinder can be a real pain depending on the terrain or the season.”
Holding out his hand, I carefully handed Ben the char cloth, which smoldered red as it passed between our fingers. Then he stuffed it into the oakum and blew on it. Once it began to smoke, he tossed it into the fireplace. For a second nothing happened, and I thought it had gone out when flames licked up the logs.
“We did it!” I crowed.
“You did it, really,” Ben said, sitting back and looping his arms gently around his knees. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head towards the warmth of the fire.
Sitting cross-legged, my back straight, I fiddled with my hair, trying to think of something to say. “Thank you,” I finally said. “You’re a good teacher.”
Ben opened his eyes, giving me a sleepy smile. “Anytime. You’re a good student.”
Curiosity was humming along my bones and I wondered if I dared to risk disrupting this mood with a question. “Did you learn that when you started firefighting?”
“How to start fires?” Ben’s face pulled into a wide grin. “Nah, I learned it as a kid.”
“Oh, right,” I muttered, wishing I’d thought that question through.
“My grandfather taught me,” he said. “This method and the wood-on-wood one. You know, spinning a stick to create friction? Grandad thought the more skills a man had to fall back on out in the woods, the better.” Ben’s voice became wistful. “Every time I start a fire, it brings me back.”
“Where did you grow up?” I asked softly, watching him.
Ben’s eyes darkened slightly and he glanced into the fire. “Colorado.”
Some instinct warned me not to press, so I lightly said, “Oh, I hear the mountains there are beautiful. I’ll probably visit there next year, I think.”
This prompted Ben to ask me a question about where I’d already traveled in America. After that, it was like we couldn’t stop talking. Sitting together, in front of the fire, it was like we were two children sharing secrets. Our conversation drifted from travel to history and back to ourselves.
“I’m Native American, Crow Tribe,” he said. “Maybe a little Hispanic thrown in, I think.”
“I could tell,” I confessed. “You know, I have some Native American in me, too. Salish Tribe.”
Ben nodded. “Oh, I knew that. The Salish are a beautiful people.”
Swallowing, I flushed and looked down. “Yes, they are,” I murmured, unable to think of anything else, and silence stretched between us. Ben was still at ease, but my heart took off again.
“Alright, I’m starving. You want lunch?” he asked suddenly, getting to his feet.
I gazed up at him in surprise, then took his offered hand, and said, “What about breakfast?”
He raised an eyebrow at me as I got to my feet. “You do know it’s almost one, right?”
“What?” I exclaimed, then snatched up my phone off the table and looked at the time. He was right, it was 12:41. We’d been talking for over five hours. Incredulity mixed with joy.
I couldn’t remember the last time something like that had happened or I’d forgotten how hungry I was. I was a notorious eater. No one liked food more than me – except maybe a bear just waking up from hibernation.
But sitting with Ben, the real Ben, had been intoxicating. I’d gladly have fasted for days if it could have continued. My heart pumped hard as I wondered how long it would continue.
Maybe for the rest of the time here?
Yet the thought of leaving sent a shudder through me and I dismissed it. I just had to enjoy the now. As the clock ticked to 12:43, I realized I’d been daydreaming and hadn’t answered him.
“I can’t believe it,” I said hastily. “Yes, absolutely. You want me to…?” I trailed off, realizing Ben was already in the kitchen cooking.
Something sweet, and mingled with serenity, filled me as I watched Ben. Then I realized I was smiling. Being here, I had no urge to rush off to the site or bury myself in books. I only wanted to enjoy this moment and be present. It was an odd, yet comfortable feeling.
Then I realized why – I almost had a sense of nostalgia for it. Yet how could I be missing something that hadn’t happened?
Suddenly a wave of dizziness hit me, along with a garble of images and sensations I couldn’t understand.
I was standing next to Ben, sliding a hand up his back, and smiling up at him.
Smoke rushed up, my throat tightened as though I was choking, and coughs tore from my throat. Something was coming, but I couldn’t move, and there was something I needed to keep safe…
And finally, I was lying on the ground, Ben’s cold hands cupping my face, and he was saying something I couldn’t hear…
Gripping the back of the couch, I put a hand to my head and closed my eyes, willing the floor to stop rolling under my feet, even as my knees buckled. A numb, prickling sensation rolled up from my fingers, and I tried to call for Ben, but I couldn’t catch my breath. Panic swamped me as my vision darkened. A voice inside me screamed out in that instant.
Call him! Call his name!
Chapter 8
Humming as I made lunch, I tried to stop smiling, but I couldn’t help it. As much as I’d tried to keep Hazel at arm’s length, it was proving impossible. So I’d decided to be friendly, figuring it couldn’t hurt.
Especially since Hazel was the most forgiving, sweetest, and remarkable person I’d ever known. On the first day, just by making her dinner (after feeling wretchedly guilty for hours), she’d been so grateful, she’d all but forgiven me right then and there.
Of course, that had made me feel even worse. So, over the last two weeks, I’d tried to make it up to her, while also staying away from her. And each time I’d done something, big or small, she smiled at me, thanking me genuinely. I started angling for those smiles, secretly hoping we were becoming friends. And today, I’d been tired of holding her off and was happy we’d spent time together. Maybe I’d even scrape up the nerve to apologize to her and explain that I couldn’t talk about why I’d pretended not to know her.
“Saka’am,” came a whisper from behind me.
I froze. Hazel.
But that was the word for moon in the Salish language, in the Flathead dialect.
Chills raced up my spine, my mind scrambling to figure out why that word sounded familiar, like a nickname, as I spun around.
Fear jolted through me. Hazel was standing by the couch, eyes closed, her body curving towards the floor. In the next instant, I was next to her and pulling her upright.
“Ben,” she whispered, eyes fluttering open, then shut, and her hands shaking as she held onto me. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit dizzy all of the sudden. I don’t know what happened…”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, sliding one arm under her knees, and picking her up. I carried her over to the couch, murmuring, “I got you.” As I gently laid her down, I realized adrenaline was pu
mping through my veins, and my breath was quickening. Trying to take a deep breath, I focused, trying to take action instead of panicking. “Can you talk to me? Tell me what’s going on?” My voice was rough, filled with fear around the edges. “Hazel, you with me? Hazel?!”
Opening her eyes, Hazel looked at me, and I let out a long, shaky breath. “I’m so sorry. I’ve no idea what just came over me. I went faint for a moment – that’s never happened before.”
Kneeling in front of her, I lifted her wrist. First I took her pulse and then noted her breathing. Her pulse was sluggish and her breathing was shallow. “Did you eat breakfast?”
“Oh. Oops.” Hazel offered me a small, sheepish smile. “No. I forgot.”
“Hazel.” I groaned, as my shoulders sagged with relief, and I rubbed my face. “Stay right there while I get you something.”
She patted my hand. “I’m sorry, Ben.”
“Stop apologizing,” I ordered, standing up and hurrying back to the kitchen. “Just stay still, please.” A minute later I was handing her a glass of water along with a snack. “Eat this slowly. How are you feeling now?”
“Better,” she said, sitting up, and nibbling on the crackers. “What a peculiar thing.”
“How is it peculiar?” I rumbled, folding my arms, and staring down at her. “You didn’t eat, your blood sugar dropped, and you almost passed out. Don’t do it again.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Hazel said dismissively, her eyes lost in thought. “Will you sit down? You’re making me nervy standing over me like that.”
“Oh, sorry,” I muttered, then eased onto the couch next to her, and gave her a wary look. Being this close to Hazel felt like tempting fate, especially after earlier. Now I wondered what on earth I’d been thinking. Casting my mind around for a distraction, I remembered the word she’d used. “Hazel, do you remember what you said – just now, to call me over?”
“What?” She looked at me, her eyes bright. “I said Ben, didn’t I?”
I hesitated, not sure if I should, but curiosity got the better of me. “No, you said saka’am. But not just randomly – like…like a name.” I swallowed, knotting my fists together.
“Moon?” She translated, puzzled. “I don’t…” Hazel’s eyes suddenly slid away from mine and she rubbed her bottom lip. “Maybe I’m more out of it than I realized.”
Something happened, and she’s hiding it. Maybe she doesn’t think I’d believe her…
A sudden clap of fear went through me. With Hazel this close to me, my brothers, and the cave, had she been inadvertently pulled into the Coyote destiny? Or was she now directly involved?
If so, I gotta talk to Ray and Auntie Sil, I thought, staring down at my hands.
I didn’t want her anywhere near all of this. Balling my fists, I gritted my teeth and tried to stem the fear rising in me.
What if she’s in danger? Is it my fault? Did I tell her something I shouldn’t have?
“Thank you, Ben.” Hazel broke through my snowballing thoughts. She’d pulled her legs up on the couch and was facing me. “It probably would have been bad if you weren’t here.”
“It’s no problem,” I muttered as the urge to crush her in my arms and flee the cabin battled it out in my chest. “I’m glad you’re okay. And you’re sure there’s nothing else…?”
Hazel bit her lip but her gaze didn’t leave mine. “Just a weird little dizzy spell.”
Swallowing, I silently begged her to stop biting her lip. It was driving me insane. “If you say so,” I blurted out, then winced. Now I was back to sounding like an ass.
“What makes you say that?” Hazel tilted her head and something flashed in her eyes. “Does that word mean something to you?”
I stared at her and watched her chin set, then her eyes flash.
Oh no.
Shit, how could I have not seen it sooner? That curiosity and determination all over her face. Hazel was trying to figure out my secret.
I almost groaned. I should have done a better job at keeping her at arm’s length. Now it was too late. The damage was done.
Perhaps it had been done five years ago in Whitsy’s office.
All of this flashed through my mind in seconds, but I hesitated too long to answer her, and I saw a gleam of triumph in her eyes. My heart sank, even as I gruffly said, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You sure about that?” She fired at me, color rushing into her cheeks, and she got to her feet. Staring me down, she crossed her arms and stuck out a hip. “Why else would you ask?”
A laugh escaped me at seeing Hazel so fierce and I shrugged. “Just making sure you’re alright.” Getting up, I edged around her, gathering up the plate and the mugs. She followed me with the empty glass, shooting me suspicious looks, and I tried to appear nonchalant. “What? I’m not sure what you want me to say, here.”
Hazel’s eyes flashed and she said, “I think you do.”
I shook my head, desperately trying to think of some way to distract her. But I had nothing. Instead, I silently took her glass, filled it up, and handed it back.
She gave me a look and accepted the glass, but when our fingers brushed, she jumped, and it plummeted to the floor. Water went everywhere and the glass cracked up the side.
For a second, Hazel’s gaze was blank, then she gasped, and said, “Oh no, I’ll get it. I’m sorry.”
“Did the dizziness come back?” I asked as she grabbed a towel and I followed suit.
“No.” She was on her knees, mopping up the water. “Just wasn’t paying attention.”
“Of course. You haven’t changed at all,” I muttered, gingerly picking up the glass, and putting it on the counter. I was about to resume cleaning up when I noticed Hazel had stopped moving. Her eyes were fixed on me. Nerves rolled in my stomach and I cleared my throat. “What? What’s wrong?”
At that, she seemed to snap awake, and fell onto her backside, her shoulders pressing against the cabinets. Her lips parted and her eyes were widening by the second. “You…you do remember.”
My entire body locked up as I grasped what I’d done. Damn it all to hell! I couldn’t even keep up a facade with Hazel for two weeks and I’d kept a life-changing secret for five years.
“I can see it all over your face, Ben,” Hazel said, her eyes tearing now, even as she glared at me. “Why would you do that? What’s the point in pretending you don’t know me?” A shuddering gasp escaped her. “Is it like a game or something? Do you like to screw with people?”
“No!” I burst out, agony shredding my heart as I saw the pain in Hazel’s eyes. “No, it’s nothing like that. I didn’t think…” Words failed me, and I tried to reach out, but Hazel scrambled away, getting to her feet.
“What is wrong with you?” she spat. “At least apologize if you’re going to pretend to care.”
Getting to my feet, I approached her warily, hands up. “Hazel, it’s complicated, just give me…” Again, words failed me. What could I tell her except what I couldn’t? “I’m sorry…”
“No.” She swatted away my hand as I tried to reach for her again. “No. I’m done caring about you, Ben. You can go straight to hell. Don’t speak to me, don’t even look at me.” She stormed. “Just leave me alone.”
With that, Hazel turned, her shoulders squared, and went into her room, kicking the door shut behind her. And suddenly the universe seemed infinitely colder and bleaker than ever before.
Hours later, lying in bed, I’d tossed and turned. Hours passed, but no sleep came. It was like there was a weight attempting to crush me into oblivion and the source of it was not even ten feet away. Some reckless part of me – the part I used to give into all the time before I became a shifter, the voice that said to jump off high rocks into deep rivers, or travel to Budapest while I had two days on leave, or leave my brothers behind because I thought I had all the answers – that voice was telling me to barge into Hazel’s room.
Tell her everything. Then kiss her senseless.
Groaning, I put my
hands over my face. For a brief moment today, I’d been utterly content with the universe. We’d spent hours together and I’d memorized every moment. The way she’d smiled at me, the way her scent had filled my nose, and how we’d talked, melting the hours away like candle wax. I figured it couldn’t hurt to steal a little time with her, right?
But of course, it did. Because all that was followed in short order by the look of complete devastation on Hazel’s face when she realized I’d lied to her.
A bitter laugh escaped me as I dropped my hands. Such was my legacy, after all: hurting people I cared about. Lying to them. Thinking I knew better when I knew jack shit.
Closing my eyes, I buried my face in the pillow, and willed sleep to take me away.
Please, no dreams about Hazel.
I was walking in a snowy forest, my feet silent on the white powder, and the faint scent of wood smoke on the air. Above me, the stars stretched endlessly in the dark sky, millions upon millions of points of light, and I gazed at in wonder. So many stars.
This was a different time, I realized, and I kept walking, curious to find the source of the smoke.
Ahead, there was a cave entrance, filled with flickering flame, and the sound of a river rushed nearby. Something crackled softly behind me and I grinned.
“What are you doing here?” came an angry female voice.
Turning, I put my hands up and smiled, “Couldn't stay away.”
Behind me, a woman had a bow and arrow aimed at my heart. I frowned a little. It was Hazel, only her hair, eyes, and skin seemed different, somehow, in a way I couldn’t quite explain. She was wearing a long deerskin dress, her feet in fur boots, and a heavy cloak wrapped around her.
But before I could adjust to this, she said, “You tricked me!”
“Coyote shifter, darling. Trickster is a force of habit with us.” I grinned at her.
“Leave. Now.” She stepped closer, the bow and arrow still focused on me. “Or I will shoot you.”
“After saving my life?” I asked, in mock horror. “Along with my brothers?” Then I let my hands fall and shook my head. “I know you probably have no reason to trust me or believe this, but I only tricked you to try to keep you safe. I didn’t want you a part of this.”
HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters Page 7