Page 3 of Far From Sherwood Forest (Far From #3)

Five years later.

My boots dig into the soft earth on top of the hill that overlooks a large portion of the state park. It stretches out below in a blur of rust, gold, and fading green. The trees are halfway into their transformation, like they can’t decide whether to let go or hold on just a little longer.

I understand that feeling all too well.

Somewhere far off is the faint rush of water, the river threading through the valley, and the occasional rustle of leaves surrendering to gravity. Other than that, it’s quiet. Quiet, but not silent.

That’s one reason why I like it up here.

To feel alone, but not lonely .

To watch something beautiful fall apart and know it’s meant to.

My life fell apart the day I ended up in this world. I still don’t know if it’s the same world but a different time or a different world altogether. Not that it matters. Because it still feels like it was all for nothing.

By the time I woke up on that hill, there was no sign of Robin or John.

I searched for them, of course, but I lost their tracks and never found them.

After traveling for an entire day, I camped out in the woods for a while because I had no idea what else to do or where else to go.

I knew I was so far from Sherwood Forest that I didn’t have any hope of finding my way back.

Some strangers came across my camp, hikers with odd clothes and bizarre belongings and devices. I wasn’t taking any chances, so I knocked one of them out so I could ask the other questions. Nothing he said made any sense. Then again, it seemed I wasn’t making any sense to him either.

After killing them both, I took their clothes and decided to move on.

I haven’t killed anyone since. I eventually learned how much that was frowned upon in this world.

I still miss hangings.

I still dream of Robin’s neck in a noose.

Huffing, I turn away and head back up the trail toward my truck, now in a sour mood. I came out here for a little solitude—something I used to dread—and now it’s backfired. With how much I used to hate being alone, it’s usually hit or miss these days.

The engine roars to life as I start the ignition and drive through the park to the office. Even though I haven’t done much patrolling today, I could still use a break to get my head out of the past, a place I try hard to avoid.

“Hey, Henry.” The receptionist peers up at me as I enter the office, and I can tell by her tight-lipped smile that she has work for me. “The visitor’s center just called. They could use some help over there.”

“I’ll go after my break.”

I can practically feel her eyes roll at my back as I continue into my office and shut the door without another word.

I’m probably her least favorite ranger this park has ever had, but ask me if I give a fuck.

I’m an asshole, and I don’t need anyone to like me.

I don’t give a fuck about much except making sure the morons around here don’t fuck up my park.

And finding Robin.

But I gave up on that a long time ago.

I gave up on that seven hundred and fourteen days after landing in this godforsaken place. That was the day I gave up on everything .

After traveling through the woods for a few more days after my run-in with those hikers, I came across an empty cabin in the middle of nowhere, far away from any busy road.

It didn’t seem abandoned or forgotten or rundown, just like whoever lived there hadn’t been there in some time.

There was a strange, crinkly film draped over all the furniture and a fine layer of dust over everything else.

I settled in reluctantly, building traps around the area that would alert me to another human’s presence.

No one came.

No one came for two years.

I hunted and planted for food. I cooked everything over a fire outside until I learned how to use the damn contraptions in the kitchen.

After a couple of months, I figured out how to turn on the television.

That was an experience. It scared the shit out of me when that screen came alive, but I learned a lot more about this world after that.

But it didn’t help the loneliness that had settled over me like a dark cloud.

And here I am, continuing to torture myself by refusing to even try to connect with another human being.

The only person I’ve even gotten close to having any kind of relationship with is Ivy—the woman who showed up at the cabin on that seven hundred and fourteenth day.

Short, black hair all windswept, eyes wide as she took in the sight of me—a strange man twice her size standing in her living room without a shirt.

I probably looked like a damn caveman with how long my hair had grown.

It turned out she owned the place and was there for the summer. Any shock she had at finding me in her home vanished after she saw what I was planning on doing that night.

Unclipping my gun from my belt, I place it on my desk and take a seat.

I lean back in my chair and prop my boots up on the desk, reaching up to run my fingers through my hair.

I cut most of it off, shorter on the sides now but a little longer on top.

I kept the beard, but I keep it trimmed and a hell of a lot neater than I ever used to.

I glare at my computer as I consider giving Ivy a call.

I fucking hate computers.

But she called them her own brand of magic, and I can’t help but think about her when I see one. Ivy and her damn computer are the reason I’m no longer trapped at that cabin, how I even have this job.

She gave me a choice that day. She could either call the authorities and have me arrested for trespassing, or I could tell her why I was there. My life already felt over, so I told her everything. The truth . All of it.

And…she believed me.

Not only that, but she was ecstatic and giddy and proceeded to ramble about meeting a time traveler.

Something about her put me at ease that day.

I hate when I get in these moods and have the urge to call her. I’ve never been dependent on anyone, but when she did her stupid computer magic to get me an identity and a job, I let her. I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and I was more than ready to leave that damn cabin.

I also might’ve been hoping that integrating into society would have led me to Robin.

Obviously, it didn’t.

I hate him so fucking much.

After five years, it’s so much more than everything that happened between us back in Sherwood Forest. There’s still all of that, sure.

He was the most obnoxious thief and loathsome outlaw I had ever dealt with.

Running around like he could get away with absolutely anything.

Winning the girl—the one I had loved too, the one who chose him . Killing my men and murdering my cousin.

And then he had to go and ruin my life even more.

My stomach grumbles like it’s matching my bad mood. I look down at the protein bar on my desk, knowing I should probably eat while I have the time. I doubt I could stomach it right now, though.

Instead, I decide I’ll take it with me and try to eat it on the drive over to the visitor’s center. For now, I need a little more time to decompress before dealing with annoying campers who think they can get away with absolutely anything too.

The phone on my desk rings, and I consider ignoring it.

I’m on break, dammit.

I pick it up, and, before she can say anything, I tell the receptionist, “Five minutes.”

Hanging up, I grab one of the magazines off my desk. I don’t really care what it is I do for the next five minutes. I just need to do something . Something to distract myself, to ground myself before I spiral.

I refuse to call Ivy and rely on the one person who’s able to make me believe there might just be a reason for things.

Flipping open the park and recreations magazine, I look through the pictures, not caring about the articles. I’m not completely incapable of finding enjoyment in things. I like that I can see other parts of this country, of this entire world, from the comfort of wherever I’m sitting on my ass.

There’s a four-page spread on a park one state over in Colorado, most of the photos taken during spring when the flowers were blooming, brilliant blue waters flowing through the streams and waterfalls. Snowcapped mountains peek over rolling, green hills. I think it’s even more beautiful than here.

A couple pictures show groups of children and adults on wildlife tours, all starry-eyed and beaming smiles as a man points at a red-tailed hawk perched in a tree.

I go to turn the page and then freeze.

A chill rises at the back of my neck before snaking down my spine.

I lay the page back down so fast that it nearly rips.

My eyes land once more on the picture with the hawk. The man pointing at it wears jeans, boots, and a green button-up park shirt. The sun highlights his tanned skin, brightens his jade green eyes. His dirty blond hair is a little wild, shorter than I remember.

It’s Robin.

My heart beats a little faster, my breaths coming in short, hot puffs. My feet fall from the desk, boots landing on the floor with a resounding thud.

Holy fucking shit.

He doesn’t look much different, maybe a little more tan. Even with some slightly sharper lines of his jaw and cheekbones, he still radiates youth. He’d be in his late twenties now, about ten years younger than me.

I don’t have to think long about my next course of action.

Without letting go of the magazine, I fish my cell phone from my pocket. I pull up the contact for Ivy and put it on speaker as the call connects.

“Hey, buddy!”

Usually, I might roll my eyes at how excited she gets to talk to me . I might be a little nicer to her than I am to others, but I’m still nowhere near being much of a conversationalist. Especially now when I’m too fucking focused on Robin’s smiling face.

“I need you to do me another favor.”

“And here I thought you were calling because you missed me.”

This time, I do roll my eyes at the pout in her voice. “I know it’s been a couple months, but—”

“Aw. You’re keeping track. You do miss me.”

“Ivy, this is important.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “What do you need, big guy?”

“What would it take to get me transferred to another park?”

There’s a brief pause before she speaks again. “You found him, didn’t you?”

Like I said, I told her everything .

“And if I said I did?”

She knows every single one of my grievances with Robin Hood, and she’s well aware of what I’d do to him if I ever found him. She may know what he did to me and was nearly witness to that low point he brought me to, but…maybe she won’t help me with this after all.

Then she surprises me by saying, “Which park?”

It looks like I’m transferring to Colorado.