Page 47 of Beneath the Mountain Sky

Slowly, I let myself start to drift toward the darkness encroaching on the edge of my vision. My eyelids grow heavy and droop until a sudden crack of thunder that sounds more like a gunshot jerks me up.

Pain sears my ribs, but it’s the flash through my head of a similar sound echoing through the woods that makes my heart thunder. I gasp, pressing my hand over it, trying to catch my breath as a panic I’ve never felt before engulfs me.

“Willow, what is it?”

Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to analyze the image I saw for only a split second, to figure out where it came from, what it means.

“I…don’t know.” The anxiety continues to rise, though, threatening to steal my ability to breathe as bands tighten across my chest. “I can’t get past that darkness. It’s eating all these memories, but there’s something there. Something important. Something I need to remember.”

Something that sounded an awful lot like a gunshot.

And for some reason, my gut is telling me, deep down, that if I don’t remember, it could be catastrophic to that future I can’t see.

6

WILLOW

The bell over the door at Claire’s Bakery jingles again as someone strolls in off Main Street, and I jerk toward the noise, my entire body tensing.

On high alert.

Every muscle vibrates with unease, which only makes the pain in my side—and everywhere else—even worse.

“You okay?”

I glance at Raven across from me at the small marble-top table, her fingers poised over the keys on her computer keyboard, gaze narrowed on me.

Definitely not okay.

Since the moment she picked me up from the cabin this morning, I’ve been on edge.

Jumpy.

Flinching at every little sound.

My gut twisting anytime anyone walks into what was once my favorite spot for a cup of coffee and a pastry, which just also happens to be where Raven does most of her work, at this back table tucked into the corner since her apartment is right above us. It’s the perfect location to watch the hustle and bustle of downtown McBride Mountain—and gather intel for her site.

I should be okay here.

It should feel like as much of a safe haven as the cabin does.

Should.

And I don’t have the heart to tell her it doesn’t when she’s trying so hard to make things feel “normal” and ensure I’m comfortable.

I force a smile. “Yeah…”

Raven’s gaze softens. “Do you want to go home?”

Shit.

I hate how well she can read me sometimes.

Apparently, I suck at hiding my discomfort with basically everything right now.

But I still have to try.

If I don’t at least make an effort to do the usual things I used to, to see if any sights or sounds trigger my memories, then I may never recover them.