Page 17 of Beneath the Mountain Sky (McBride Brother Lumberjacks #1)
KILLIAN
R aven looks up from her computer as I step into the cabin and close the door softly behind me.
My gaze immediately moves over the small space, my eyes seeking out Willow the same way the rest of my body and my heart do, but there isn’t any sign of her. “Where is she?”
The feisty blonde who looks less than pleased to see me points down the hallway. “She was exhausted and went to bed hours ago.”
I wince at the reproach in her voice.
Like I somehow abandoned Willow when I was really out trying to help her.
Just let it go.
It doesn’t do any good to argue with Raven right now, not when I’m as exhausted as it sounds like Willow appears to have been. And I have to follow my own advice when it comes to the woman on my couch and do what’s best for Willow, which means at least pretending to get along.
I reach down to untie my boots and toe them off as Raven closes her computer, slides it into a bag, then climbs to her feet. “How was she today?”
She releases a long sigh. “Okay, I guess? She had me take her to town.”
My back stiffens as my blood runs cold. “It isn’t safe.”
A blond brow rises sharply at me, and Raven crosses her arms over her ample chest. Her toe starts tapping as she gives me the same how-dare-you-question-me look she always has.
“You think it’s safer for the two of us up here alone at your remote cabin than it is on Main Street with dozens of people around us?
Most of whom have known us our entire lives. ”
“ Yes .” I don’t mean to snap at her, but it comes out harsh all the same. “Because we don’t know what the fuck happened to her, or if any of those people were involved in it.”
Raven gives me an incredulous look. “You can’t be serious.”
I grunt and give her my back as I stalk into the kitchen, tug open the cabinet above the stove, and pull out a bottle of whiskey and a glass.
If she weren’t standing right there, judging me already, I’d chug it straight out of the bottle, but I don’t need to give this woman any other ammunition against me.
Ignoring her glare, I pour myself a shot and down the entire thing, slamming the glass harder than I should onto the butcher block counter.
“Did you guys find something else?”
The waver in Raven’s voice from behind me is what finally gets me to turn around and face her. She’s one of the most stubborn, pig-headed, relentless women I’ve ever known, and she has never, ever, sounded so scared.
It causes a twinge in my chest that I hate to have when she’s been such a pain in my ass.
She loves Willow.
She’s worried about her.
“No.” I shake my head. “The dogs were only able to track her for a few more miles in the woods beyond where we got previously, and then they lost her scent. The storms over the last couple of days wiped away everything.”
Raven winces. “Shit.”
I lean against the counter, running my hand through my hair, and I drop my head back to stare at the ceiling—the parallel logs running nearly perfectly straight.
Still supporting all the weight effortlessly, even though they’ve been here for so many years.
All that hard work standing the test of time.
For some reason, seeing it makes me angrier about the situation.
They built this without the help of any modern tools or equipment.
They settled this area without roads or cars.
The McBrides logged this mountain without the advanced equipment we have today.
They made it work, and with everything at my disposal—men with boots on the ground, technology, time—I can’t even figure out what the fuck happened to Willow.
“She didn’t come back and go up there on her own.” I drop my head to meet her gaze again. “We all know that, right?”
Raven nods. “I showed her all the stuff she sent me. She confirmed it’s her handwriting. The notes had to have come from her.”
Fuck.
I tighten my grip on the edge of the counter, hating what I’m about to say. “That doesn’t mean she wrote them willingly.”
“What?”
“I’m starting to think…fuck.” I scrub my hands over my face, then turn around and pour myself another drink, unable to look at Raven as I say the words that have been batting around my head the entire trek down the mountain.
“What if someone forced her to write those notes? What if someone sent those gifts to you to ensure you wouldn’t look for her? ”
“Jesus Christ. You don’t think that’s possible…”
I shrug, down the drink, and glance over my shoulder at her. “I don’t know. I’ve just been trying to think of all the possibilities. And it’s very weird that she never called you or insisted you come visit her. To not speak with her or physically see her for an entire year?”
Raven shakes her head. “No, it’s not. You know how close we were. In one of the notes, she said that if she heard my voice, she’d want to come back. That definitely sounds like her.”
“Maybe. But she also never contacted me .”
Her brows fly up. “You really wonder about that? After what you did?”
I slam my palms against the counter, my earlier annoyance with this woman now switching to full-blown anger. “You don’t know what I said or what I did, so stay out of it.”
“I can’t.” She crosses her arms again defiantly. “She’s my best friend.”
And she’s my fiancée.
The words almost come out of my mouth before I can stop them.
We aren’t together anymore. Not like that. Maybe we won’t be ever again. But last night, it sure felt like she was still going to marry me, that we were still on our way to spending the rest of our lives together as we had planned.
I clear my throat, forcing away what I want to say. “Well, I’ve got her now, so you can go.”
Raven scowls at me. “I swear to God, Killian, if you hurt her any more than she already has been, I’ll fucking kill you myself.”
“I believe you.”
And it’s that devotion to Willow that prevents me from truly hating Raven, even if I might not like her.
She stalks away, closing the door behind her far quieter than I expect her to, given her mood.
As soon as I hear her car start up and pull away, I pour myself a much-needed third drink. The amber liquid in the glass blurs as I stare down at it, tears pooling. I squeeze my eyes closed before one falls.
You can’t cry.
You have to be strong.
In control.
I suck in a long, slow breath and release it just as slowly, then down the drink and hiss at the burn before I silently make my way back to the bedroom to her.
Just like I have so many nights before…
Only on those nights, it was to delve under the sheets with her and get her to make that little whimper that always undoes me.
That won’t be happening tonight.
Or any other time soon.
The door stands cracked at the end of the hall, nothing but the soft sounds of her rhythmic breathing audible in the darkness.
I ease it open and find Willow curled in the center of the bed, wrapped up in the comforter.
A thin sliver of moonlight from the window on the far wall reaches her, barely illuminating her face.
But it’s enough to see that it isn’t as calm and peaceful a sleep as I hoped to find her in.
Her brow furrows.
Her eyes move frantically behind the lids.
All I want to do is climb in and hold her.
Tell her it will be okay.
Slay whatever demons chase her in her dreams.
Seeing her there in our bed, smelling her in this room again, it’s all I can think about.
But I can’t do that.
It was dangerous enough pulling her onto my lap in the chair last night. All day while conducting the search, I relived each moment of having her in my arms.
The press of her body to mine.
The scent of her invading my breath.
The feel of her soft puff of breath against my neck.
I can’t allow anything else to happen.
It isn’t fair to her, knowing that she would hate me if I told her the truth.
I start to pull the door closed, but her violent scream slices through the night air. Willow bolts upright in the bed, frantically lashing out at someone or something that isn’t there.
“Willow?” I launch across the room, at her side in a second, pulling her into my arms. “Willow, wake up !”
“No, no, no!”
Her cries wrench from her throat as she punches and tries to push me away. But she’s no match for my strength—or resolve.
I hold her steady with one arm wrapped around her as I take her face in the other and squeeze her chin, twisting it up toward me. Ensuring the first thing she will see is me and not whatever is chasing her in her nightmare.
“Willow, wake up. Open your eyes.” I shake her gently. “Willow!”
Her eyes finally fly open along with her mouth on a surprised gasp. She frantically tries to pull from my hold before the stormy gray finally finds my gaze and holds it.
“Honeybee, I’ve got you.”
Willow sags against me, and her sob tears through my heart as she buries her face in my chest, wrapping her arms around my neck and snuggling close.
I lean back on the headboard and tug her fully across my lap. “It was just a dream.”
Instinctually, I squeeze her tightly, but she stiffens.
Shit.
Her ribs.
“I’m sorry?—”
She shakes her head, her lips and body trembling. “I don’t think it was a dream.”
Her words freeze me in place with my hand pressed to her back, holding her close. “What do you mean?”
A hiccupped sob slips out as she struggles to speak through her hysteria. “It was too real. I’ve never had a dream like that. I think…I think it might have been a memory.”
* * *
WILLOW
Silence fills the room for a few moments while Killian holds me as I try to gain control of my breathing and fight back the sobs that continue to wrack my body.
He gently rubs his hand up and down my spine, giving me time to process while being the rock he has always been to me.
Last night, he called me his compass, directing him to true north, but really, that’s what he’s been for me. Through all the turmoil in my home life, he was there. A friend. And then, he became more.
He became this.