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Page 21 of Beneath the Mountain Sky (McBride Brother Lumberjacks #1)

ONE WEEK LATER

WILLOW

F or 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.

That alone is enough of a reason to want the truth.

And there’s only one way I can think to find it.

Face what’s up there.

I close the cabin door behind me, head down the two steps off the porch, and make my way across the homestead toward the barn.

Killian should be at McBride Timber right now.

He should be doing his job, managing the several dozen employees who depend on his business for their livelihoods. He should be checking stock, sending shipments, even running the saws like he loves to so much, even though he doesn’t need to do it anymore.

He should be doing his job, but he’s too afraid to leave me alone here, too scared I’ll have a meltdown while he’s gone.

And considering what’s happened during every one of these memory flashes, he’s probably right.

I can’t seem to bring myself out of them. Can’t get back to the here and now without him . His warm arms and reassuring words keep me grounded.

The familiar sound of his axe slicing through the air and chopping into a heavy piece of wood hits me, and a smile pulls at my lips.

Whenever he got angry or stressed about anything, I always knew I could find him out here, either chopping endless amounts of firewood—more than we would ever need that he would just end up donating to someone in town—or carving something.

His beautiful wood sculptures line Main Street, standing sentinel in front of the various businesses and the entrance to McBride Mountain.

An eagle in front of Claire’s Bakery, clutching her famous croissant in its talons.

A bear in front of the diner with a picnic basket.

A mischievous raccoon in front of the grocery store with a loaf of bread in hand.

And too many others to count. All brilliantly lifelike and done by a man who is a true artist, though he’ll never let you call him that.

I turn the corner around the barn and find him exactly where I knew he’d be—in front of a massive pile of wood.

He sets another large piece on the stump and lifts the axe that belonged to his father, and his father before him, and swings it down with such sharp precision, such power, that it makes me jump, as well as clench my legs together.

Sweat trickles down his exposed back, the muscles there working as he leans down and throws the two pieces onto the pile, then reaches for the next log to repeat the motion.

Tattoos seem to move across his skin as if they’re alive; intricate artwork he’s built over the years, constantly adding to it, all pieces that mean something deeply personal to him.

A few new ones have popped up since I’ve been gone, though I haven’t had a chance to examine them closely enough to see what they are.

I inch closer, mesmerized by the man, narrowing my eyes on the ink, trying to determine what they could be as he sets the next log and swings, sending the pieces splintering and flying outward.

The smell of newly-cut wood mingles with the fresh mountain air, the scent that’s all Killian. I inhale it deeply, letting it soothe the anxiety over what I’m about to ask him.

He turns to reach for another log and spots me out of the corner of his eye, turning to face me fully and rising to his six-three height. “You’re awake.”

I nod.

His brow immediately furrows as he steps toward me, all those slick, glistening muscles on display. “Are you all right? Did you have another nightmare?”

That .

That look in his eyes.

That concern that never seems to go away.

The constant vigil he feels he needs to keep over me.

It has to end.

I shake my head.

He rests the head of the axe on the ground and leans against it. “Then what’s wrong?”

Shit.

He knows me so well.

The past two weeks have proven that.

Killian hasn’t forgotten a single thing.

All my favorite foods keep appearing on the kitchen table each night because he remembers each and every one of them exactly how I like them. And in the morning, my tea, with exactly the right amount of honey in it because he knows I like it super sweet.

He’s given me everything I need before I can even ask for it.

Except this…

Because he thinks I can’t handle it.

I shift nervously on my feet. “I need to ask you something.”

His eyes immediately darken, and I know what he’s thinking—what he believes I’m going to ask for.

The truth about what happened between us.

“Not that.”

I watch the tension ease out of him with the reassurance that I’m not going to question him about our breakup.

Neither of us is ready to discuss it at this point, and that’s probably for the best. It’s easier to live in this semi-dream world, where he and I are still something.

That tension still radiates between us.

The kind that’s always been there.

I can’t seem to shake these feelings, this draw to the man standing in front of me, which makes it so hard to believe I would have walked away from him.

“What do you need, Willow?” His brow furrows. “You know I’ll do anything for you. Anything to help you.”

I believe his words because he’s proven it over and over again over the past five years.

And the last two weeks.

Spending almost all of his time scouring the mountain, the endless wilderness, for one scrap of information that might help explain what happened to me, because the sheriff is coming up empty.

Tony Briggs is a good man.

Smart.

He was always looking out for everyone else when we were in high school, and now it’s literally his job, ensuring the citizens of McBride Mountain are secure and safe, but one thing he hasn’t been able to provide is answers.

He hasn’t been able to locate anything that confirms I actually lived in any of the locations I sent Raven gifts from. Even my friends in Asheville, whom I intended to stay with when I left, said I never even contacted them about coming and haven’t heard from me in over a year, either.

Which means I lied to Raven in those notes.

Why would I do that?

Why would I leave Killian?

Why would I lie to my best friend?

I take a tentative step toward the man who has become my savior, but who also poses one of the biggest mysteries in all this. “I need you to take me to where you found me in the river.”

His shoulders tense, his massive pecs rock hard, his jaw working as he stares me down. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I take another step toward him until I’m so close I can smell the sunshine in his hair and that clean sweat smell emanating from him that makes me think of only one thing: sex.

I shiver.

Good God, this man could always turn me into a quivering mess.

“Why do you want to go to the river?”

I suck in a long, deep, fortifying breath, knowing he isn’t going to like what I’m about to say. “I need to know if being there will jog my memory. If I see anything there that might, I don’t know, match these flashes that I’ve been having.”

“Are any of them the river?”

I shake my head, running my hands through my hair. “No, but they’re coming more often now. Longer flashes. More vivid images.”

“Still no specifics?”

“Fire. Something that sounds like thunder or a gunshot. Running, carrying something. The sound of metal dragging or clanging against something. It’s all just…

” I squeeze my eyes closed, pressing my fingers into my temples.

The all-too-familiar throb that always comes with mining my mind for the memories returns full force.

“It’s all just so jumbled in this dark haze. ”

He closes the distance between us, capturing my cheek in his rough palm and tilting my chin up with his thumb. “Do you really think going up there would help?”

I open my eyes to meet his that watch me so intently. “I do. I have to do something other than sit around here all day or hang out with Raven while she works. I need to do something active, something that might actually make a difference, otherwise I might just…”

Lose myself.

Because that’s what it feels like.

I didn’t just lose a year; I lost part of what makes me me. Until this mystery is solved, I can’t move forward, and Killian has proven we can’t go back.

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