Page 15 of Beneath the Mountain Sky (McBride Brother Lumberjacks #1)
WILLOW
T he 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.
I shake my head. “No. Thanks for bringing me along to your ‘office’ while you work.”
She snorts and purses her lips, returning her focus to whatever is on her screen and typing away rapidly. “What I wouldn’t give for a real one again.”
Her disdain for the fact that Old Man Murray finally decided to close our tiny town paper three years ago still lingers even now, despite the fact that she’s done very well for herself as a freelance journalist and with her social media page to keep everyone local up to date on the goings-on here in McBride Mountain.
I scan the large windows that give a wide view of Main Street, watching people occasionally walk past. “It’s good to see town and everyone…”
And I really do mean it, despite how jumpy I am.
As much as I love the cabin and the feeling of familiar comfort it provides, without Killian there, it just isn’t the same. Any tension that exists between us—given our unusual circumstances—doesn’t seem to in any way affect that he still feels like safety.
Like home.
He still carries that protective instinct, the one that made him incredibly reluctant to leave me this morning, especially given the flash of memory I had last night and the subsequent meltdown he held me through.
But the opportunity to head out with his brothers, the sheriff, and a dog crew from Asheville means a chance at finding answers both of us so desperately need.
Something he couldn’t pass up, despite his trepidation.
Raven glances up at me, like she isn’t sure she believes my statement about how great it is to be here.
I take a sip of my black tea with honey and shrug. “I knew it would be a long day of doing nothing but worrying and letting my mind run off to dark places if I had stayed there.”
Very dark places…
That same darkness that has overwhelmed my mind since the moment I woke.
Thick.
Inky.
Immovable.
Something about it gives me goosebumps and sends a shiver of dread down my spine each time I try to delve into it.
And without Killian at the cabin, that’s exactly what I would have done.
Here, with Raven, I’m surrounded by familiar sights, sounds, people, and even though I’m jumpy as hell, it’s better than the alternative.
I take a bite of one of Claire’s famous chocolate croissants and issue a groan of approval as the buttery, rich flavors dance across my tongue. “I’ve missed this. They taste exactly the same.”
Raven snorts and grins. “I should hope so. I think if Claire changed the recipe, there would be a town-wide revolt.”
I return her smile and glance at the woman in question behind the counter, her graying hair tied up in a bun at the top of her head.
She bustles behind the display case, pulling out various confections for the few people in line—Betsy O’Brien, her children who have grown shockingly since the last time I saw them, Jake Swanson and his wife, Maureen, and a man I can’t quite place but know I’ve seen around town before.
Several sets of eyes peek over at me, but as soon as they see I’m looking, they dart their gazes back to the display case.
My stomach sinks. “People know already…”
Raven follows my line of sight, and she releases a little sigh. “This is McBride Mountain. Everybody knows everything about everyone else. You should know that.”
“I do, but…” The man looks over at us again, and my skin prickles at the way he examines me. I quickly look away. “I don’t even know what happened to me, and now, everyone’s speculating about it.”
Raven pushes her laptop away from her and leans closer to me across the table.
“Look”—she glances at the people in line—“obviously the rumor mill has already started churning, which I expected it to, given the way you made your reappearance. So, you have two options. You can ignore it, or we can get ahead of it.”
Ignoring it sounds amazing.
Just burying my head in the sand, pretending everything is normal, and getting back to the life I had before…all the things I can remember. The ones I can’t recall don’t need to control my life.
Theoretically…
But Killian said that wasn’t possible last night.
And he might be right.
Raven sure is about this.
This is McBride Mountain, population 536.
There are no secrets here.
And this small town loves nothing more than to spread rumors and make their own leaps when information isn’t readily available.
Like now.
“How do you recommend getting ahead of it?”
She holds my gaze, uncertainty in hers that I normally don’t see there. “Let me post an article.”
“You’re kidding.”
Her hands fly up defensively. “You would be able to have the final say about what goes into it, but I feel like the town needs to know something besides what the whispers are saying.”
“But we don’t even know what happened.” I can count the number of actual facts on one hand. “What are we supposed to tell them?”
She offers a half shrug. “Exactly that. We don’t know what happened. Maybe it would help draw out some information that we don’t already have from someone who doesn’t even know they have it.”
“Killian said Tony is interviewing everyone he can think of and making calls.”
Her head bobs, causing a strand of her blond hair to fall from the messy bun pulled up at the top of her head.
“I’m sure he is, but you know there are a lot of people who don’t come into town often and never leave their homesteads unless they absolutely have to.
” She taps her computer. “My site is how they get all their news and know about what’s happening since the paper shut down.
Almost everyone has conceded they need power and the internet these days, and they’re willing to check the site frequently.
While some people do know you’re back and how Killian found you, there are going to be even more who don’t know.
Or they’ll get their information from someone who doesn’t have the right information.
We can control the narrative, if you’ll let me do it. ”
She has a point there.
I haven’t been gone long enough that the way McBride Mountain works has changed. Everybody is in everybody else’s business. And of course, a body found in the river would be front-page news if we still had a local newspaper.
Raven’s site has become basically that, and she isn’t wrong about trying to get ahead of it. It might be a way to curtail all the crazy stories people are making up…and potentially get some information we wouldn’t have otherwise.
I release a heavy sigh and nod. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Her brows fly up. “Really?”
Something tells me I’m going to regret this.
“Yeah.”
She tugs her computer closer, and the excitement vibrating beneath her skin is enough to make her tremble in her chair. “You’re sure?”
I nod again—more to convince myself than to reassure her that I’m actually one hundred percent on board with this idea. “Yes.”
“Okay, well”—her fingers fly across the keys—“let me type up a quick draft and then we can discuss it, make changes, until you’re comfortable. Is that okay?”
Her green eyes flick up to meet mine, and an ache forms in the center of my sternum. Like I’m looking at something I thought I’d never see again. Maybe I didn’t think I would ever come back to McBride Mountain or have a chance to sit with her here like this again while I was gone.
Emotion clogs my throat, so I nod.
“And here.” She slides a bag across the floor to me. “In the meantime…”
“What’s this?”
“All the notes and postcards you sent me. You said you wanted to see it all. I already gave Sheriff Briggs the dates and locations to run down.”
“Oh…”
That vise constricts around my chest again.
This is all that exists of the last year of my life.
Our only clues.
The sole ties I have to the life I led when I left McBride Mountain.
My hand shakes as I grab the bag, pull it up onto my lap, and empty the contents onto the tabletop.
Handwritten notes.
Postcards.
A birthday and Christmas card.
Raven gives me a half grin. “I didn’t bring any of the gifts. I figured if you needed to see those, we could head up to my place before I take you to the cabin. I thought the notes might be what you were really after.”
I nod, the tremble in my hand so bad that I have to pause and fist it for a few seconds before I lift a postcard from Colonial Williamsburg and flip it over, noting the postmark and the date.
October of last year, months after I left here.
My familiar scrawl fills the space.
Hey, Rave.