by T. S. Joyce
She did an about-face and escaped out the back door. Stupid man for dredging up these feelings like black silt from a muddy river bottom. She was almost over him. Had even braved dating and here he was, with his smoldering gaze and that draw that always pulled her to him, and she was feeling for him again.
Stumbling through the yard and to the tree line, she crossed her arms over her chest and sat on a felled log covered with squishy green moss. She’d probably sport a giant stain across her rump when she returned, but right now she was beyond caring.
He wasn’t the caring Bron she’d left six years ago. The unfortunate change in him made her heart ache. She’d never met his wife before, and seeing her in person stung in ways she hadn’t expected. She was real. Bron had really chosen another over her, and now they lived in that beautiful house together. Hell, maybe they had kids together. Any one of the children she’d seen weaving through the crowd inside could’ve been theirs.
The truth of it hit her like a wrecking ball. She really had no shot at the life she had dreamed of. How could anyone compare to how she’d felt about him? She’d given her heart to him and he had tossed her away like she was nothing. And now he was angry that she’d come back to her hometown?
She hadn’t really known him at all.
Samantha screamed as she jumped off the old bridge near Wrenn Dobbin Ditch. The water was warm as she hit the surface, and she stayed under as long as she could hold her breath, waiting for him. Beside her, Bron slipped into the murky water, surrounded by bubbles illuminated deep blue in the moonlight. They broke the surface together and gasped for air. She laughed and splashed, but Bron had pulled into himself lately and his mouth was still drawn down.
Maybe it was his father’s death at the hand of hers that haunted him. She was shunned by most of the town, and any relief now was found when she and Bron were alone.
“Hey,” she said, pressing the palm of her hand against his cheek. “You said you forgave me.”
He bobbed as he treaded water. “There’s nothing to forgive. I already told you that. You aren’t your old man.”
“Then what is it?”
He sucked air and went under, and after a few moments, she could feel him swim beneath her and toward a rocky bank that served as a natural seating area just below the surface of the water. Frowning, she watched his pale skin under the surface of the waves as he escaped her questions.
He’d been like this for weeks, ever since his eighteenth birthday. She thought they had recovered after what happened between their parents, but now she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps her presence in his life was poison to Bron, killing him slowly and hurting him the more time he spent with her.
She didn’t want that. Causing him pain was the last thing she wanted to do.
Slowly, she swam toward him and took a seat on the rocky ledge beside him. Her bra and panties clung to her body, and she shivered at the desolate look in his eyes as he stared across the river.
He seemed to be choking on words, and his struggle to express himself scared her more than anything. More than the cops busting through the front door in the middle of the night to arrest her dad. More than the agony she’d seen on Bron’s face after he found out his father was dead. More than the kids who’d chased her after school and threw rocks at her while screaming she was the get of a murderer.
Words had never been difficult between them until now.
Frightened, she pulled his lips to hers and stroked her tongue against the seam of his mouth until a growl rattled from his throat. These noises used to frighten her, but it was just the way he showed affection. She knew that now.
He gripped her wet tresses and pulled her head back until her neck was exposed, then brushed his lips against the tripping pulse at the base of her throat. So fast she gasped, he pulled her onto the soft beach sand and lay her down. Bron was too large for her to take easily, but that didn’t usually matter. He was always gentle and made sure to let her know how much she was adored. He always made sure she was ready for him.
Not tonight though. Tonight desperation tinged his movements. She didn’t mind it though because she was just as thirsty for him as he seemed to be for her. Fear drove her as she pulled him closer. Nudging her knees apart, he pulled her panties to the side and slid the head of his cock into her. She was ready, wanting.
“Please,” she begged, yearning for the connection with him he’d been withholding.
Gritting his teeth, he pressed into her until she was filled with him and pulled back slowly. Countless intimacies and she still tingled with the newness of feeling his skin against hers. She cried out as he bucked into her again, and clung tighter to his back. Over and over he rammed into her, only to draw back slowly.
“I love you,” she whispered, and an agonized sound drew from his lips.
Ramming against her, he set a punishing pace until she could hear the slap of their skin mirroring the waves lapping the sandy river beach.
God, she was so close and his grip was growing tighter as he pressed deeper and deeper inside of her. “Bron,” she cried out as she detonated around him, and hot warmth shot into her as he froze and found his own release.
The snarl in his throat tapered and he dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Shouldn’t have done what? Made love to her? They’d been together ten times at least. And she’d wanted him.
“Don’t say that,” she pleaded, desperate to hold onto the connection she could feel fading between them.
“Sam,” he rasped, easing back to look at her. His eyes brimmed with emotion, and agony was etched into every angle of his face. “I’m getting married.”
Married. No explanation or anything. She’d asked Trent and Reese when Bron refused to talk to her the next day, but they’d closed up completely and she’d been left on the outside, reeling.
Momma had been trying to sell the house after Dad’s psychotic break, and when she couldn’t, she started packing anyway. She’d worked at a diner in town, but her boss had fired her after Dad was arrested, and Samantha had seen the way the townspeople treated Momma. Hell, she was treated the same by her peers. They had moved to Portland two weeks later.
Telling Bron he’d broken her was a colossal understatement. She’d been going ninety to nothing through her heartbreak, and hit every brick wall and craggy cliff on the way to total devastation.
She had planned on staying in Joseph with him after Momma moved away. Maybe eventually getting married and having sons who looked like the man she’d loved, but that was stripped away with the three word’s he’d uttered the last night they jumped off the old lover’s bridge. She’d told him she loved him, while his words hurt like shards of glass thrust through her chest. That pain still existed, she realized, as she hugged her torso in the woods beside the house Bron shared with his wife.
He’d moved on without her, while she was stuck for always in the past.
Damn him.
Through the woods, she could make out the cabin. The back door opened and Reese poked her head out. “Sam?”
It was at this mortifying moment, Samantha realized she was sobbing like a lunatic. Trent’s death and the soul crushing memories that had plagued her were too overwhelming to hold her shit together any longer. And heck no was Reese going to see her blubbering over Bron and his betrayal. She had buried the love of her life today. No way was Samantha going to burden her with her own unresolved issues.
Today was about Trent, not her.
She would just hike around the edge of the tree line where no one could see her, slip into the Jetta and speed off into the sunset. Then she could call and make her apologies to Reese later on, when she was feeling less psychotic.
Emboldened with a plan, she let the tears flow and stripped out of her high heels. Careful to look where she was stepping, she walked deeper into the woods and turned in the direction that would lead back to the front of the house where she’d parked.
Ten times at least
, Momma had told her at eighteen she’d been too young to have feelings so deep. She’d called it puppy love and said Samantha would find someone someday who would teach her the difference. Except she was still waiting, and still comparing every man who showed interest to the boy she’d left behind.
Bron had not only broken her, he’d ruined her for every other man.
Her anger grew wider and deeper the closer she got to her car. She couldn’t wait to get away from here and work on forgetting all this grit again. She’d done it before and she could do it now because dammit, she was stronger than the ghosts of her past.
A limb snapped behind her and she spun. “Hello?”
Silence filled the woods. Even the birdsong had faded, replaced with the subtle pattering of sprinkling rain on the canopy leaves above. Probably a rabbit or something.
She turned and picked up the pace, using a giant pine tree to balance against as she skirted around a boulder. Another limb broke and she turned, but nothing was there. Panic flared in her chest at the feeling of being followed, and she began jogging as best as the rough terrain would allow her to with bare feet.
Trent had been murdered, the culprit was still at large, and she was traipsing around the woods alone. Not too bright, Young, she scolded herself as she searched in vain for the meadow with all of the parked cars. She should’ve found it by now.
Unless…
Unless she got turned around when she was scared of whatever was behind her.
Okay, if that were the case and she was going the opposite direction, all she had to do was turn around and go back in a straight path. Or as straight as the thick brush would allow her.
As she spun and didn’t recognize anything familiar about the forest, her breath seized.
She was definitely lost.
Chapter Three
Four hours of hiking aimlessly and Samantha was beginning to think she would never make it out of the woods near Bron’s house alive. At least it was four hours if she was going by the watch she’d fallen and cracked the face of an hour ago.
Sunset terrified her. She was going to have to spend the entire night out here.
The temperature was dropping by the minute, she was wet from the rain and the material of her dress was sticking to her in uncomfortable ways. Her feet were worn raw and when she fell and broke her watch, she also did a bang-up job of scraping the top layer off her knees like the chronic klutz she was. Long legs sounded great in theory, but attach them to a person with little coordination and it was just borderline comical—not sexy.
On the bright side, no more snapping branches had followed her, so she was definitely all alone out here.
On the other hand, not that she was trying to freak herself out or anything, but Hells Canyon Wilderness was known for its bears. Black bears mostly, but there had been several eyewitness accounts of brown bears in the area too. Black, brown, purple or mauve, bears of any size or color were terrifying. The thought of meeting one out here alone was enough to draw a whimper from Samantha’s throat.
What was she supposed to do in this situation? She’d watched a few reality television survival shows, but mostly for the cast members’ drama. Who didn’t enjoy watching skinny girls try to gulp down grubs? The only glaring problem was that she’d flipped channels when the how-to’s of fire building bored her. Now, she was probably going to freeze to death out here because she’d decided to watch infomercials about blenders and zombie Chia Pets instead.
Okay, this was where she was supposed to stop and make up a plan. Sunset was approaching, and she couldn’t just go traipsing through the woods all night in the dark. Did she make a shelter? Or should she climb the closest peak and try to build a fire for smoke signals?
The wind picked up, dislodging sprinkles of water from the leaves above and onto her shoulders and hair. She clutched onto the pink multi-tool pocketknife Margie had given her for her birthday last year. She kept it hooked to her keychain and had thought about it exactly zero times since she’d attached it last year. Now, even with such tiny blade, she felt safer.
She’d started shivering around hour two. A mixture of adrenaline waves and crashes mixed with the cold wind against her rain-dampened skin, and trying to stop shivering now was pointless. Perhaps she’d shake like this for the rest of her life. The end of her life was probably coming soon if her lack of survival skills was anything to go by.
For the hundredth time, she cursed herself for leaving her cell phone in the cup holder of the Jetta. The police force of Joseph probably numbered around five officers, and it could take them weeks to find her carcass in wilderness like this. At least she’d worn her best panties so she didn’t have to worry about the autopsy. Sure, the medical examiner would probably find rabbit poop and tree bark in her belly, but her panties looked effin’ great.
She grew more discouraged by the minute.
She couldn’t die like this. It was humiliating getting lost on the way to the country parking lot in Bron’s front yard. No, she was going to be fine. She would make a shelter with her pocket knife and some vines or something and sleep safe and snug, and then in the morning, she’d hike to the top of He Devil if she needed to and scout her position.
Thirty minutes later, she had sawed halfway through a branch of leaves with her useless pocket knife, which was apparently very dull despite her never having used it before. She’d gone to hanging from it like a disgruntled monkey trying to break it when she looked up and Bron was standing leaned against an Alder tree like he’d been there for hours.
She swallowed a shriek and froze, dangling in midair and still bleeding from the knees.
He’d ditched his suit jacket and loosened his tie, but other than that the man didn’t seem to have a single dirt smear on him. She wanted to chuck the multi-tool at his smirking face, but it probably wouldn’t even break the skin.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m building a shelter.”
His dark eyebrows shot up and he pursed his lips like he was stifling a smile. She wondered what those looked like on grown up Bron. “Of course you are. You know you are less than a mile away from my house, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Shit, a mile? Heat burned up her cheeks like a brushfire. She thought she’d been walking for at least twenty miles. Maybe she’d been going in circles. Primly, she released the stubborn branch and wiped her blistered palms against each other. Clearing her throat, she picked up her shoes, tilted her chin up and marched past him.
“It’s that way,” he said, pointing in front of him.
“Right. Of course.” She spun carefully, heels dangling from her fingers, and walked in the direction he was pointing, all while wishing anyone but Bron had showed up to rescue her. He wasn’t exactly knight in shining armor material. More like annoying past coming back to embarrass the hell out of her.
“What are you doing all the way out here, Samantha?” His use of her full name stung. He’d always called her Sam before. Nothing screamed how much their relationship had tanked like formality.
“I was avoiding you. And your wife.” Truth be told, and she was a shitty liar. At least he wasn’t glaring at her like he had been earlier though, so she decided to throw him a bone of crappy small talk, as only she could muster. “How is she?”
“Hmm. Who?”
“Marybelle…Marilynn?”
“Muriel?”
“That’s it. Sorry, I didn’t catch her name when you announced…” Your cheating shithead ways sounded harsh, even in her mind. “When you announced you were getting married.”
“She’s fine,” he gritted out. She could almost hear his teeth grinding from behind her. “She’s happy right where she is.”
“Fantastic.” Her pride was in the pile of smelly deer pellets on the side of the trail.
“You should leave,” he said low.
“What do you think I was trying to do?” She steadied her walking lest he think she was stomping like a petul
ant child. “I was trying to get to my car but I got lost in Narnia and why the fuck do you live on the side of a mountain? Joseph is the size of a grape. It’s about as small town as you can get, and you decided to go mountain man? What happened to you?”
“Nothing you would understand.”
She turned and glared. “And nothing you would ever tell me anyway. That’s the way you left me. It’s your favorite way to handle things, right? You couldn’t tell me that you didn’t care about me anymore, so you just didn’t. You ripped away from me. And now you don’t want to have any kind of personal discussion about your life because that would be against your rules.”
“Now, now, Samantha. You’re beginning to sound bitter.”
“Don’t patronize me, you smug asshole. I deserve to know why you did what you did. Why you cheated on me—”
“I never cheated on you.” His eyes blazed and the color looked so strange for just a moment before he dipped his gaze to the forest floor.
“You never cheated, you just fucked me and told me you were getting married to someone else. You had a relationship with Muriel while you had a relationship with me. Call it what you want, Bron, but it’s cheating.”
“You left,” he growled out.
“I couldn’t stay and watch you build a life with her. Surely you can see leaving was my only choice if I was ever going to move on.”
“And have you moved on?”
“Yes. I’m dating someone.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “His name is Ryan Cummings and he’s an actual decent guy.” If one ignored the binge drinking, inappropriateness and lack of manners, it was mostly true.
When Bron lifted his gaze, his eyes looked their normal clear, cold green. An empty smile crooked his lips. “He sounds perfect for you.” Pushing past her, he clipped out, “Keep up,” and blazed a trail through the thick brush.