Page 14

14

Diem

A man’s voice sounded from my right. “This here’s private property, and I don’t know you, so I suggest you turn your ass around and head back the way you came before I decide you’re a threat and pull this here trigger.”

My heart went from ninety to nothing, engaging my instinct to fight. I froze, assessing the distance of the man’s voice—too close for comfort—and the chances of him expecting me to attack. Could I spin and disarm him? Take him to the ground? Knock the weapon from his hand? Not without seeing what I was up against first. A blind attack would get me killed.

I realized Tallus wasn’t nearby. I sensed his absence, and the rage pouring into my system in preparation for battle turned to fear. It choked me. I couldn’t breathe. Where was Tallus? How immediate was the danger?

I’d spent my entire life reacting to threats through violence or submission. Years in therapy had taught me to stop and think. Process. Analyze. So as much as I wanted to launch myself at the perp with the cocked gun behind me, I held my hands aloft, displaying they were empty, and turned slowly.

A weather-beaten face, encased in a fur-lined hood, peered down the sight of a rifle. The man was either a rough fifty or a respectable sixty years old. He might have only had one hand on the gun, balancing it on his shoulder, but something told me, despite the insufficient grip, he wouldn’t miss if he pulled the trigger. His relaxed stance and unwavering focus spoke of experience.

The stranger held his other hand in a stop motion like a crossing guard giving instructions to children. I followed the direction it pointed, and every muscle in my body twitched with the urge to leap into action. The bear in my chest roared and snarled, throwing itself against my ribcage.

A midnight black rottweiler, easily weighing over a hundred pounds, had Tallus pinned to a tree. The skin around its mouth peeled back in a snarl, showing razor-sharp teeth as it dripped saliva. A low rumble rattled in its chest. A warning. A threat. “Don’t fucking move” it said. “Don’t fucking move, or I’ll tear your throat out.”

Tallus obeyed the unspoken command, but if I could smell my boyfriend’s fear from forty feet away, the mutt would be swimming in it.

The dog must have been hyper-aware of its master’s command because it didn’t take its eyes off Tallus for a second. Every part of its muscular body was taut with anticipation, waiting for a simple hand gesture to indicate it could pounce. I feared sneezing or moving too fast and setting it off.

“Who are you?” the man asked, drawing my attention from Tallus and the dog.

“We’re two guys out for a walk. Nothing more.”

“Is that right?” He wore grungy jeans, work boots, a thick flannel under a quilted jacket, and fingerless gloves. A coarse beard obscured much of his face. “You walked right on over that fence back there without noticing it, did ya?”

Every inhale burned my lungs, and remaining still took willpower and strength. My ears rang. “Call your dog off,” I said through gritted teeth.

“No. He’s just doing his job. Trained tracker and look what he found. Two out-of-towners up to no good, heading places they shouldn’t.”

“If he hurts a single hair on that man’s body, your rifle won’t save you, asshole. I will tear your fucking limbs off.”

The man chuckled. “I doubt that.” But he lowered the rifle and whistled through his teeth. “At ease, Argos. Come.”

The change in the canine was instant. All aggression vanished as it bounded happily to its owner’s side and sat. The man rested a hand on the dog’s head, still not breaking eye contact.

I sensed Tallus’s relief. He didn’t move toward me, and I didn’t hear him retreat from the four-legged threat, but his weak voice hit my ears. “G-guns. Let’s go.”

“Listen to your buddy, hop right back over that fence, and don’t come back. I won’t be so nice next time.”

“Is that your cabin?”

Even with the shadow cast by his fur-lined hood, the creases beside the man’s aged eyes stood out. “Is it yours?”

“Are you the man who pulled the kid from the river? Was it your mutt who found him?”

The stranger glanced toward the Ganaraska before turning back, skepticism in his eyes. “Is that what this creeping is about? The dead boy.”

“He’s not dead.”

“He’s not alive, either, so far as I understand. All hooked up to life support.”

“What can you tell me about him?”

“Smart kid who wasn’t so smart.” He motioned with the rifle. “Get moving before I change my mind about you, and don’t let me catch you on this side of the fence again. I don’t give second chances.”

Instead of waiting for me to do as he said, the man balanced the rifle casually over a shoulder and whistled at the dog. “Argos, come.”

The two moved through the forest beyond the cabin. I watched for a minute, wanting to chase him down, wanting to wrangle him for answers or shove his goddamn rifle up his ass, but Tallus’s tremulous voice halted every one of those thoughts.

“D-Diem, let him g-go.”

His stutter and barely restrained fear hit me like a punch in the gut. I forgot about the man and shifted around to find my boyfriend violently vibrating next to the same tree where the dog had trapped him. Tallus’s pale face, drained of color, and the way his nails dug into the bark of the trunk behind him fired up my blood pressure.

I closed the distance in three long strides and stalled, instantly floundering, unsure what to do. “Hey. Hey. Tallus? Tallus, look at me.”

His glassy eyes scanned the woods, wide and filled with terror. “I’m fine. I… I… didn’t pee my pants. Thought I was going to, but I didn’t. That was… I’m really… Can we leave now? I’m cold.” The steady chatter of his teeth had nothing to do with the temperature. Not this time.

Tallus’s ragged breathing continued, and he seemed disoriented, unable to focus on my face—or make full sentences, which wasn’t like the chatterbox I knew. I recognized all the responses brought on by intense fear and shock, but hell if I knew what to do about it.

Either way, he was right. We had to leave before the guy’s dog alerted him to our lingering presence. The whole situation was suspect, but I didn’t have time to stop and process what it meant. My boyfriend was falling apart.

I guided Tallus away from the tree and toward the trail. His fingers were icy, and he stumbled to keep up, sputtering nonsense about his bladder of steel, and could he catch rabies from hot dog breath touching his skin because hot dog breath had definitely touched his skin.

When he almost fell more than once and lost himself in hysterical laughter over his mud-caked shoes, I almost picked him up and threw him over my shoulder. Tallus emitted every sign of distress. He ticked all the warning sign boxes, and I was well-versed in understanding fear responses and panic attacks.

I should have stopped right then and there and done what I could to talk him down, reassured him we were safe, and helped him regulate his breathing, but I didn’t have a fucking clue how to do any of that. I’d been managing my own stress for years, but I didn’t know how to act when on this side of the equation.

Besides, I wasn’t a wordsmith on a good day. Talking someone off a ledge wasn’t my forte.

So I kept dragging Tallus by the arm until we reached the fence. I helped him over first, and by the time I joined him on the other side, his legs gave out, and he landed on his ass in the mud. He laughed, then he cried.

I helped him up and got him steady on his feet.

“I’m fine,” he said again for the hundredth time, sniffling and trying to right his clothes. “Everything is peachy.” He smiled, but it was fake.

He was not fucking fine. Everything was not fucking peachy.

I scanned his bloodless face and wild eyes full of unshed tears. His glasses sat crooked, and when he offered a shaky thumbs up, I did the only thing I could think of doing. I drew him into my arms and wrapped my much bigger body around him protectively. He was muddy and wet and shivering uncontrollably. Coddle his emotions, he’d said. Well, instinct told me Tallus was having a lot of emotions right now.

In his ear, I whispered, “You’re safe. I will tear this world apart before I let anyone hurt you. You hear me? You’re okay, Tallus. Please stop freaking out. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

His trembling eased, and before long, his inhales and exhales regulated. When he hugged me back, I knew he was steadier. Still, I didn’t let go. Maybe I was holding myself up as much as him. Maybe it was my emotions needing coddling this time. Either way, we stood in the forest for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms. Not once did it feel awkward.

A few minutes later, Tallus’s muffled voice reached my ears. “D? You’re crushing my glasses, and your hug is turning super squishy.”

I loosened my hold, and Tallus pulled back, straightening his frames. Color returned to his cheeks, and his smile was pure and real. “Thank you.”

I nodded and shifted my weight, reluctant to let him go. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m soaked and muddy and can’t feel my toes, but I’m okay.” He glanced back from where we’d come. “Is he gone?”

“Yes.”

“Can we leave now?”

“Yes.” I took his hand and led the way back to the Jeep.