Page 68 of Beneath the Mountain Sky

The last thing I need is an audience for a showdown with the woman who is essentially the news source for the community.

“Sounds like you’re just stirring up trouble again, Raven.”

She leans back, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her pink lips into a smug grin. “Trouble’s my middle name.”

“Believe me…I fucking know.”

But somehow it’s the dark-haired woman across from her who’s causing me all the trouble right now.

I need to get my fucking head on straight so I can concentrate on what’s important: the search tomorrow, finding the truth.

What happened in the past between Willow and me can wait.

At least for a while.

9

ONE WEEK LATER

WILLOW

For the first time in a week, I step out of the cabin with a sense of purpose.

The last several days, nothing has been able to drag my head away from those dark places it wants to go.

Not in my workshop, making candles.

Not going into town with Raven, while Killian spent his time hunting the mountain for clues or taking care of his responsibilities at McBride Timber.

All I’ve felt is listless.

Lost.

Like I’ve just been going through the motions.

Walking around the streets I know so well and seeing them all for the first time, through the eyes of someone who’s suddenly suspicious of everyone and everything.

Nothing has changed in the year I’ve been gone, not really. It never does in a town like this. But the way people see me has. People I’ve known my entire life now give me tight smiles instead of the genuine ones they always offered me. Lifelong friends avoid eye contact because they don’t know what to say, and I can’t blame them.

They’ve all read Raven’s article.

They all know what happened and that I can’t remember.

Dr. Sommers said it could take time, but after two weeks, I still don’t have anything resembling answers.

All I have are these bits and pieces that keep coming in strange flashes that leave me breathless and terrified. And despite everyone telling me that all I need is “time,” the longer this drags on, the worse it becomes.

This feeling like some massive weight is sitting on my chest, suffocating me.

I have to get my memory back.

It may have felt like it would be simple to just return to the way things were and forget any of this ever happened, but the past two weeks have proved that isn’t possible.

Killian still alternates between hot and cold, affectionate and aloof. Holding me so tightly when I need him, then quick to slip away with longing looks that break me almost as badly as the nightmares do.

He has changed.

Whatever happened between us, it’s made him afraid—not of me but of himself.