Page 43 of Beneath the Mountain Sky (McBride Brother Lumberjacks #1)
I tear my gaze from them and watch the men and women around the fire, the flames flickering across their faces, which are mostly filled with humor, but there’s an underlying hum of trepidation and restless anticipation.
No one knows what we might find tomorrow.
But everyone expects the worst.
That much is evident based on the looks being cast in our direction.
Only the rest of the search party finally entering the clearing breaks the attention from me.
Additional tents go up.
People come and eat. Drifting around. Chatting. Then returning to their spots to settle in for the night.
All while I sit frozen in place, unable to move.
I have no idea how much time passes.
An hour.
Two, maybe.
Killian finally leans over, dipping his head toward my ear.
His long hair tickles my cheek. Even with the fire burning close, the scent that’s all Killian still fills each breath I take.
“You didn’t touch your food. And I’ve been trying to give you some space and time, but we have a hell of a hike tomorrow. You need to eat something.”
I glance down at my plate.
He’s right.
Today was the easy part of the journey—physically and emotionally.
Tomorrow gets steeper. Even less traveled. Into the complete unknown as far as what we might find.
I lift the piece of cornbread and take a bite. Despite how delicious it is, it still feels like chalk going down my throat.
Killian returns to his conversation with his brothers. Not hovering. Continuing to allow me to move at my own pace. But I still catch him watching me out of the corner of his eye.
I force myself to keep eating—the bread, some pasta salad, a few bites of beans and ham—until I feel like I might throw up.
And somehow, Killian knows.
That I’ve reached my limit.
That I’m on the verge of collapse.
He takes the plate from me, passes it to Connor, then pushes to his feet, holding out his hand to me. “Let’s go.”
I slide my palm into his, and he tugs me up, murmurs “good night” to a few people, and leads me over to our tent on the edge of camp. Stopping outside, he pauses to take my face between his palms, the moonlight glittering across his eyes as he stares down at me.
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.
The way he looks at me is enough to speak volumes.
What happened to me on this mountain doesn’t matter to him, but it does to me. I left something up here, something important, something I have to find.
And hopefully I will tomorrow.
* * *
KILLIAN
I wake to an eerie silence and a foreboding sense of dread.
Over the past couple of weeks with her back, I’ve gotten used to the sound of Willow’s breathing.
Even before I started sleeping in our bed with her, I was always aware of the sounds coming from the bedroom, always listening to see if she needed me.
And since we got back together, I’ve become accustomed to the feel of her in my arms, her shifting in her sleep, the comfort of knowing she’s safe with me.
None of that exists in this moment.
I open my eyes to an empty tent, the sleeping bag next to mine already cold, like the dread that sits like a stone in my throat.
“Willow?”
It goes unanswered.
I push up on my elbow and scan the tight space as if there’d be somewhere else for her to be instead of at my side, but she’s gone, as are her hiking boots that had sat just inside the zipper when we fell asleep.
“Shit.”
Somehow, I slept through her waking, putting on her boots, and leaving, even her re-zipping the tent closure.
Where the hell did you go, Honeybee?
Unease clamps around my throat, squeezing until it makes it hard to breathe as I throw open my sleeping bag and climb out. I quickly tug on my boots before I unzip the tent and step out into the darkness of the night.
An almost full moon overhead gives off some illumination, as does the bonfire raging to the left, but the tents block most of that, casting long, ominous shadows in places.
Low voices float through the air from that direction, and I approach the center of camp, weaving between the other tents where the rest of the searchers sleep soundly, scanning for any signs of her.
I quickly make it to the voices.
Flames climb high into the sky from the bonfire people have kept going, sending out a warm glow and welcome heat into the night, though it isn’t nearly as chilly as it has been in the evenings now that we’re nearing July.
The Winslow brothers sit on one of the long logs, staring into the fire and sipping coffee from metal cups. They both raise a brow at me as I approach, obviously surprised to see me up and around this late.
Everyone is tired after that hike, and they probably haven’t seen anyone else since all the searchers retired to their tents after dinner.
“Did you see Willow come this way?”
Ned’s brow furrows as he looks to his brother, Daryl. “She didn’t come this way.”
Daryl shakes his head. “Sorry, Killian. Haven’t seen her since we took over the watch about two hours ago.”
“Shit.” I run my hands through my hair as that unease I felt back in the tent now races through my bloodstream, chilling every inch of my body. “Okay…”
Where is she?
The brothers push up from the log, suddenly on high alert.
Daryl starts to reach for his shotgun propped up next to him. “Should we be worried?”
I hold up a hand before he grabs the weapon. “Give me a minute to look for her before you wake anyone else.”
The last thing I want to do is start a panic in the middle of the night when everyone needs to rest up for tomorrow. If I can locate Willow quickly, there won’t be any reason to stir up the rest of the camp.
They both nod, their suspicious gazes now roaming over the campsite illuminated by the fire and moonlight.
Where the hell would she go?
If she went toward the game trail that we know she ran down to get to the river that night, she would’ve had to walk past the Winslows or at least close enough that they would have heard her, which means she went the other way—toward the water.
Hell…
I stalk off in that direction, scanning the deepening darkness for any signs of her, with the moonlight the only thing to guide me this far away from the fire.
The sound of the water bubbling over the rocks in the center of the river reaches me before I can see it, bringing with it the vision of her floating there, limp, cold?—
No.
I refuse to consider that possibility.
Each step across the clearing feels like it takes hours, even though it can’t be more than a few hundred yards to the water’s edge. I scan it frantically until a heavy, relieved breath rushes from my lungs, my heart finally beating again.
There she is…
Willow stands not far from where I found her in the river, just above where the rapids start, where the water is calmer and swirls gently in a naturally created pool near the bank.
She stares at it, her head tilted slightly, arms wrapped around herself protectively. Her thick, dark hair floats around her shoulders in the light breeze, but if she’s cold, she doesn’t show it.
Her eyes stay locked on the small pool, like she can see something there I can’t. She doesn’t hear my approach, doesn’t seem to even sense that I’m here until I’m right up on her.
“Hey…”
She startles and whirls toward me, her eyes wide, hand pressed over her heart. “You have to stop sneaking up on me like that.”
“I didn’t mean to.” I shift closer, trying to see if she’s been crying, but her eyes seem clear, no telltale streaks down her cheeks. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night? I woke up, and you were gone. I was worried.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She closes the distance between us and rests her hands on my chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I…” Her head turns back toward the river. “I couldn’t sleep, and I thought maybe if I came out here…”
My heart breaks for the thousandth time over what she’s suffered, what she continues to suffer because of some psychopath who decided to keep her from her life, from me.
Willow rotates in my arms to face the river again, and I press in tightly behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my chin on her shoulder. “You thought maybe you’d remember something else?”
She nods, her focus still completely on the water.
Moonlight reflects off it, creating a cascade of diamond-like sparkles across the surface with the movement downstream.
I nuzzle her neck. “Have you?”
It takes her a few seconds to answer. “No. I just keep staring at the river, wondering why I would’ve jumped into it.”
“Maybe you were trying to get across it and got swept away in the rapids.”
She shakes her head, threading her fingers with mine across her stomach. “That doesn’t seem right to me.” A little frustrated noise comes from her throat. “I can’t remember , but I know that’s not what happened. I can’t explain it.”
Her struggle slices at my chest, her pain a living and breathing thing I wish I could hunt down and eviscerate with my axe.
“You don’t have to, Honeybee. You don’t owe me any explanations for anything you feel. Maybe you were pushed in.”
She tilts her head slightly, considering it. “Maybe. But if he went through all the trouble to keep me up here for a year, why would he then push me into the river in a way that would probably kill me?”
It would have, if I hadn’t randomly been up here because of Liam that day.
I will never complain about him dragging us out in the early mornings on his hunts for the perfect tree specimens ever again.
“That doesn’t seem right, either, Honeybee?”
A hard sigh falls from her parted lips, and she leans back against my chest heavily, giving me all her weight. “Something is just drawing me toward it, the water…”
“Then let’s get in.”
The words come out before I really have much of a chance to consider the suggestion. Pros. Cons. How she might react…
She glances back at me. “What?”
I scan the small pool in front of us. “Let’s get in the water.”
“Killian, it’s cold .”
“Not that cold, and we won’t stay in long. Just a quick dip.”