Page 19 of Beneath the Mountain Sky (McBride Brother Lumberjacks #1)
THREE DAYS LATER
WILLOW
E verything is exactly as I left it.
After all this time, I expected cobwebs, dust, and any number of animals to have infiltrated my workshop and filled it with nests, but all my candle-making supplies are still stacked in neat rows on shelves.
No cobwebs.
In their place are entire buckets filled with honeycomb waiting for me to process it for the pure wax I use for my creations.
When Killian told me he kept things exactly as they were in the cabin, I never anticipated it would extend out here.
Not to my space.
Not when he didn’t know if I’d ever come back.
I now know how that feels because he disappeared on me.
The past few days with him have been tense in a way things never were before, filled with all the unspoken things between us.
And this need I have for the man who has been there for me through every dark moment of my life, including the dreams that have haunted me.
Yet when I woke this morning, before the sun even came up, he was already gone from the cabin, out taking care of the animals and all the other tasks the homestead requires before he heads into McBride Timber.
He left, like he has every night after my nightmares have come.
It could be his absence.
It could be that I’m just starting to feel better.
Either way, I’m restless.
Unable to eat breakfast, pacing the cabin until I finally couldn’t take it anymore and had to come outside.
This property has always felt like home since the moment I first set foot here when I was twelve years old.
Connie knew I needed a safe place to land, and she gave it to me on those days and nights it wasn’t with Mom.
And today, my feet lead me to the small structure to the left of the barn that has always been one hundred percent mine.
Killian built it for me when he realized how impractical it was for me to keep using the kitchen to process the honeycomb and make my candles.
When he knew I needed my own safe space, the same way his mother did all those years ago.
The man is giving me whiplash.
Doing sweet things like this—maintaining the hives, collecting a year’s worth of honeycomb for me so if I came back, it would be here and ready. He cared enough to look after something he knew meant so much to me, yet he’s fled from the bedroom every night.
Each time I wake screaming, assaulted by another memory, he’s right there to hold me, to make me feel safe, but as soon as I’ve relaxed and calmed down, it’s like he can’t put enough distance between us.
Like he doesn’t trust himself…
I release a frustrated sigh and set to work pulling out what I’ll need to start purifying the wax to make candles.
Despite the pain in my ribs, moving feels good.
After days of just sitting around the cabin or at the bakery with Raven, I need to do something normal, something I would have done any other day before all of this happened.
I need to do something I love, and because of Killian, I still can.
Those damn tears threaten to come again, and I wipe them on my forearm as I pull out one of the large metal buckets of beeswax and light the flame on my burner to get water boiling.
I pour it in from a few reused milk jugs waiting on the floor—another thing Killian ensured would be ready for me—and wait, examining my scents, trying to figure out what I want to do today.
Lavender…
Jasmine…
Sandalwood…
But my gaze keeps drifting to one tiny bottle in particular.
Killian’s scent—the one I made to mimic what clings to him.
I release a heavy sigh and pull it out, despite really not needing a reminder of how complicated things seem to be between us right now. Fingers wrapped around the stopper, I pause and try to prepare myself for what will happen when I pull it.
But nothing could ever prepare me for Killian McBride.
I pop the cap and take a long inhale of the crisp, woodsy scent I created—and which happened to become my bestselling candle.
Different memories flood my head now than those that have plagued me through the violent flashes.
Happy ones…
Because so many of mine are wrapped up in that man.
Nights spent in his arms.
Days spent hiking and enjoying the mountain.
I close my eyes and inhale again, allowing his scent to do to me what it always does.
When the sound of the water boiling finally draws my eyes open, I actually feel relaxed for the first time since I woke in that hospital bed.
I grab my giant wooden spoon and start stirring the beeswax, watching it slowly melt, the little bits of dirt and other impurities separating from the beautiful gift from nature that I need to create a batch of candles.
Being out here, doing this, always gave me an outlet, the same way carving does for Killian and building chairs does for Liam.
Creating something beautiful from something most people might overlook or even discard. Finding beauty in something Mother Nature gave us and utilizing it to create something else beautiful.
A shadow slips across the door behind me, blocking out the sun, and I whirl toward it to find Killian leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest, making his dark T-shirt pull taut across sculpted muscles. “I thought I might find you out here.”
“Oh, hi.” I shrug, feeling like somehow I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t and need to apologize for being in what used to be my space. “Just needed to do something normal.”
His gaze softens as he steps in and makes his way over to the counter…
and me. Those warm blue eyes I get lost swimming in rake across every inch of my body, taking in the exposed bruises, lingering on my side, even though he can’t see the damage to my ribs.
Like he’s examining me for any signs that being out here and doing this has aggravated my injuries in any way.
He stops beside me and lifts the scent bottle to his nose.
A grin pulls at his lips.
And hell, he’s fucking beautiful.
It’s so rare to see Killian like this—with his guard down. If anyone else saw it, they wouldn’t believe he’s the same man they know. The one Raven has warned them about when he’s in a foul mood. This Killian is the one I fell so easily in love with.
His voice dips low as he sets the bottle back down. “That’s familiar.”
Oh, hell.
So are the butterflies fluttering through my chest at being this close to him. At hearing the fluctuation in his tone, so full of promise…
I nod, clearing my throat awkwardly, suddenly uncomfortable around the man who has been my comfort zone for so long. Because I don’t know what we are anymore. Friends. Former lovers. Jilted betrothed. Potential mates. None of those labels feel right. “It should be; it’s yours.”
He leans against the counter and watches me stir the wax, that smug grin still playing at his lips. Because he knows as well as I do why I chose that scent to make today. “I have to go into the yard, take care of some things before I go up the mountain again tomorrow.”
The subtle reference to where he’s going without directly referencing why is appreciated, but my gut still tightens. “Okay…”
Those all-seeing eyes of his roam over me again. “I don’t want to leave you alone, and Connor and Liam are already down there.”
That concern in his voice somehow both warms my chest and raises my hackles.
“I’m okay to be up here alone, Killian.”
I can’t rely on other people to watch over me like babysitters, to always be here if I have a meltdown. That isn’t realistic. It’s been a week since Killian found me, and their lives and schedules have already been affected enough.
His jaw hardens. “It’s not you I’m worried about, Honeybee.”
Every time that nickname slips from his lips, my heart stutters a little.
When he first called me that, we were young. Still in elementary school. So oblivious to anything that existed beyond our isolated world on the mountain, to the pain that could come to us from things on it and outside it.
The worst things we experienced at that age were scraped knees and bee stings.
“You really harvested all this honey and maintained the hives while I was gone?”
I earned the nickname due to my ability to handle the hives without getting stung, but Killian has never been so lucky.
They seem to sense he’s a predator at heart.
They’re on guard when he’s around.
So, the fact that he put himself in that position to keep things running smoothly speaks more than his words ever could.
The corners of his mouth quirk up slightly. “That surprises you?”
“How many times did you get stung?”
He chuckles, leaning in slightly, until we share the same breath. “Too many to count.”
I can’t help grinning at him and the playfulness in his words, despite knowing how miserable he is when he’s in that position.
His gaze dips to my lips. “I think I should drop you in town with Raven.”
Immediately, my shoulders tense, that warmth evaporating quickly.
Something about being back there over the last few days I’ve spent with her has left me uneasy, a feeling almost like I’ve been being watched.
It’s probably just my self-conscious brain knowing that everyone is aware of what happened to me, but something about hiding out up here in the workshop all day sounds like the far better option.
But I need to shake it off.
I can’t hide forever.
Especially not if I want to regain my memories.
I finally turn off the burner to let the water cool so the wax will re-solidify on the top, letting the “gunk” I don’t want in it sink to the bottom, then rest my hip against the counter and face him. “Okay…”
Killian watches me, eyes narrowed, and this close, he isn’t missing anything . “You don’t look so sure about wanting to go down there. Did you and Raven have a fight or something?”
I bark out a laugh at that. “God, no. You know how we are. We might bicker about something, but we never really fight.”
He smirks. “Sounds familiar.”