Anchored Page 7

  “Dying is worse than scar tissue, Sky. You made a choice to save your life. I think he would be more upset attending your funeral than exploring new parts of your body.” His words are sharp, but meant to soothe. I know he means well, but he has never seen what I know to be true. He doesn’t have to adjust or accept my body in all the ways I have. “If he is an asshole to you about this, fuck him. Let me and Ax deal with him.”

  Caleb’s protection and support has been long-distance since I left. Yet somehow, when he speaks, I feel his hulking arms around me. Fat tears streak down my cheeks. “I love him, Caleb.”

  “If you tell him all of these things, and he walks away, I will sic Reagan on him. After that, we will keep everything a few notches away from actual murder. Okay?”

  “You won’t have anything to work with after I’m done with him,” Reagan chimes in.

  Caleb and Reagan are a gift I never knew I needed. “You guys are the best.” Gratitude for their willingness to tone down the vigilante justice so that my heart isn’t too broken bubbles up in laughter. “Thank you.”

  “What do you think would be best for you right now, Sky?” Reagan asks. “I think you should do something that makes you happy and gives you a little space from him.” This is their way. He rallies and protects. She cuddles and soothes.

  All of the things I did at Amanda’s house to distract me are not here. I doubt Nick has watercolor pencils. I could go upstairs and use one of the bedrooms for some yoga. The bags from Harris Outfitters sags in the corner of the room. According to Nick, Jude dropped them off before dinner last night, while I was in the shower. “I’m going to burn off a little steam and go for a run.”

  My two-person cheerleading crew wishes me speed and safety before signing off. New running shoes are always a delight, but these babies make my feet sing. The clothing is light enough to not hold me down but warm enough that I won’t have to layer. And there’s a perfect pouch for my phone so I can listen to some tunes. When I registered for the race in Boston a month ago, I figured I had more than enough time to get myself back into shape for a 5K. I need to return to a level of normalcy, and running is the trick. Besides, any stress that is going to make my muscles scream will be less painful than fighting with Nicholas William Harris.

  The interior of the house is strangely silent, until I hear the crack of metal against wood. Relieved I do not have to confront our issues again, I grab Nick’s earbuds off the counter and slip out the front door.

  Chapter 10

  Nick

  The wood handle of my grandfather’s ax curves against my palm. Years of chopping and splitting wood has worn a smooth groove in the heavy handle, making a violent tool more secure in my grip.

  Fragments of bark splinter into the air when the blade hits the felled tree. Wyatt found it uprooted on a walk through his property when he was home from fishing. He called me to remove it and use it for whatever I wanted. I saved a few larger pieces for projects I’ve been sketching out. The rest were piled for firewood. The act of breaking down a mass of wood into usable logs usually brings me peace, a sense of rightness. It’s a rhythm that resets the issues. Pulling a round of tree trunk from the wreckage, watching chunks fall away to create uniform cuts, seeing the woodpile expand to the point that it will support my brothers and me through the long winter. It is a process that makes me whole, right.

  Unless you’re going to say we should take this slow . . .

  Skyler wants to be together? In a relationship?

  But we are . . . Or we were, before she left.

  The sting of her disappearance issues a glancing blow.

  What if she left again? We were involved with each other, and she only communicated through Caleb, which was nothing more than a two-second update. “She’s good, man. Doing well.”

  She was fine. I walked around like a zombie for months.

  The familiar pit of nothingness settles in my gut. How did I feel this hollow for months if she was good? Why would she yell at me about taking it slow if our time apart didn’t bother her? But she wants to take it slow? My brain reels, trying to connect her reasons for leaving with her resistance to telling me where she was. I’m not good enough to keep informed, and I have to sacrifice even more to know the truth.

  The swell of frustration rooted in the twisted thoughts I’ve battled pushes past the turmoil in my gut and races through my limbs. One perfect round of log suffers the unrestrained swing of my blade, obliterating the solid piece into kindling.

  The low thunk of the ax cutting through the wood’s flesh is the only sound emanating from the safety of my home. The cold air blooms with the scent of northern red oak. Dense clouds cover the early afternoon sky, littering snow across the backyard just enough to cover the grass. The storm is holding back, waiting for the right moment to show itself before it buries us in snow.

  We have enough wood, but I cut down three more rounds. With every fall of the ax, I think I’ll have the right answer. I raise my arm to strike again, and my reasoning scatters.

  The woman I held on for is here. I suffered with this deep ache for her. She is here. We are together.

  As far as I know, she’s not going anywhere. Could we take it slow?

  What does that mean? How do you slow down a relationship with someone you’ve already had sex with and live a functional life?

  The wheres and whys take over, snagging on the hope that I can say the right things without fucking them up.

  Brushing the snow from my shoulders, I survey the final piece of wood and attack.

  Sky. Thwack.

  I spoke too soon. Thwack.

  I know I push you. Thwack.

  I don’t know how to do this relationship stuff. Thwack.

  Can you help me try? Thwack.

  A text message vibrates in my pocket, halting the next swing. Setting down the ax, I feel a bit more confident, less edgy. Maybe Sky will let me chop wood while we talk.

  A message from Evan to our group chat lights up the screen.

  A bear triggered the game camera a few minutes ago between 3 & 6.

  The properties are numbered according to birth rank. Evan, the third, is three. I’m the sixth. The bear is meandering along our personal property lines.

  After quickly gathering the last pieces of wood, I move into the mudroom. I dump the wood by the door with the ax, then I grab my binoculars on the way into the house. We can go to the peak of the house and hopefully spot the bear. It might be a good way to start the conversation.

  “Sky?” I call from the kitchen. “Evan just texted me there’s a bear wandering around outside. Want to check it out?”

  The question is answered in remote silence.

  “Sky?” I call again, walking down the hall. “Come up to the peak and—”

  Inside my bedroom, the clothing she was wearing is strewn across the bed, but the room is empty. I look in the bathroom and the adjacent room, and I rip through the upstairs. “Skyler!”

  Nothing.

  She’s gone. The panicked pulse of my blood makes me jittery, unsteady. I fumble for the doorknob and stumble outdoors.

  The dusting of light snow reveals the outline of her new running sneakers, marking her trail.

  Back inside the house, I grab the .22 shotgun and the bear spray. Once out the door, I voice-to-text a message:

  Skyler is outside. I don’t have a sight line. Her tracks heading toward 3.

  The gravel access road that serves as our main driveway through our land curves and rarely allows a clear view between homes. The land was designed to provide access with a strict guideline for privacy. I cannot see any of my brothers’ homes unless I’m at the peak of my own.

  The thin layer of snow under my boots slows my pace. I can’t risk falling with a gun in my hand. After half a mile, I catch up enough to see her. Her body glides through the snow, limbs churning with grace and ease as she presses toward Evan’s home.

  “Sky!” I yell and double my efforts. She continues to push at
an effortless pace, completely unaware of the danger lurking close by. “Skyler Douglass,” I holler into the air, “you stop your ass right now!”

  The only response is the icy punch of cold air against the back of my throat. Droplets of freezing precipitation cling to the warmth in my body and penetrate deep.

  “Angel,” I wheeze against the cold, “slow the fuck down.”

  Keeping my eyes trained on her body, I will her to feel my stare, hoping she’ll turn to see me. When she jerks to the side, it takes me a moment to figure out what makes her stumble. She pulls at the wire connecting her earbuds and stares at a small ball of fur. Moments later, a second cub bursts through the dense woods onto the open road and tumbles toward Sky.

  Fuck me.

  “SKYLER!” Her head snaps toward me, her eyes wide. “Back away from them slowly,” I yell, attempting to keep my voice firm.

  Her head wobbles as she stares at the cubs meandering around the edge of the lane. The shock of seeing the cubs has her rooted in place. I slow my pace, willing myself to be calm so as not to agitate the mother, who has to be close by.

  “Skyler.” I deepen my voice, hoping it will pull her away from her panic and toward me. “You need to back away from them and come to me.”

  She nods and turns, stumbling to the center of the road. Her proximity to the cubs triggers a loud crack deep in the forest. Trees snap, spraying snow and ice into the air when the sleek black bear explodes into the open space between the cubs and Sky.

  “Nick!” she screams as the bear rears up on its hind legs. Sky falls backward, her rear end hitting the ground, allowing the bear to advance a few steps closer.

  With a quarter mile between Sky and me, I can’t make enough noise to scare the bear on my own.

  “Stay down, Sky,” I whisper to myself as I lift the shotgun into position.

  The bear drops to all fours, sniffing the air around Skyler’s body as it lumbers closer. The adrenaline coursing through my body causes the gun to wobble, the bear coming in and out of focus through the sight. I hear Sky scream, then sob as she pushes backward on the road, trying to get some distance from the bear. Her movements agitate the bear, causing it to rear up and growl.

  I fire a single shot one foot above the bear’s head, causing the beast to stagger back and holler for her cubs as she lumbers back into the safety of the woods. Even though they are on the run, I fire a second round into the air to encourage their quick retreat.

  Once they are out of sight, my body is flooded with the pain and fury of the moment. Every muscle burns from the run. My pulse beats in every inch of my body, fueling furiously fucked-up visions of Skyler being mauled by a bear in front of me. She could have been dead in the road, and I would have never known until someone found her body. My back and arm seize and jerk at the terrifying thought, but I jog forward to where she’s fallen on the road.

  The sound of Evan’s ATV breaks through the pounding in my head. He reaches her first, jumping off the quad to pull her up. She wipes her hands on her pants, then wipes tears from her cheek. Evan’s arm comes around her shoulder, tucking her close while he talks to her. Skyler’s body quakes in his hold, her back expanding and contracting.

  Evan lifts his head, still holding Skyler close. “I saw the whole thing, Nico. You had that completely under control.”

  The sight of Evan’s hands on her has my blood boiling. When she turns her soft, tear-streaked face to me, her fragility is evident. She had no clue what to do. I couldn’t protect her. Skyler could have been killed. A single swipe of that bear’s paw could have issued irreversible damage. I didn’t protect her. I could have lost her again.

  “What the fuck were you thinking!” The words spew with untethered fury. “This isn’t Boston, Skyler. This isn’t your home. You don’t know what happens out here.”

  “Hey, Nico. Enough.” Evan steps between Sky and me. “She’s scared, dipshit. Give her a minute.”

  “She could have been killed!” The barbs of my anger gouge and drag across my chest, carving a path for the lethal flow of my rage.

  “And you’re acting the same as that bear, so take a minute and relax.” Evan turns to her. “Are you hurt?”

  Sky’s head wobbles, her shaky hands pushing her hair away from her face. “I didn’t . . . I forgot the spray.”

  “Okay,” Evan smoothes the wild strands of her hair with the hand not holding my girl close. He wraps her up in a warm embrace. “You are fine. Nico took care of it. Just remember it for next time.”

  “Yeah,” she says with a shaky voice.

  “There is no next time.” Every inch of me is shaking, rioting against the sick images in my head. “You’re not going anywhere alone. Ever!”

  “That’s enough. Nico, you need a minute.” Evan motions for Sky to sit on the ATV. “Get on.”

  “No way.” I can’t inhale deep enough to calm my voice.

  “Yes,” my older brother says with a maddening calmness. “I’m going to take her back to your place. She won’t be alone while you walk off the need to scream in her face. Get your head in the right place before you get back. Okay? Good. Do you still have shells? And not one for my back?”

  I rip the shotgun open and throw the spent shells on the ground. He watches me with cool passivity as I jam two new bullets in and snap the barrel closed.

  “Will you be okay?” Skyler asks from her seat as Evan mounts the ATV.

  Evan laughs as he turns the key, bringing the quad to life. “Skyler, anything that tried to bite him now would get a mouth full of bitterness,” he says, completely unfazed by the fact that the woman I feel crazy things for could have been killed and is now wrapped around my brother like a koala. Evan lifts his chin to me, saying goodbye. “He’ll be fine on his own, sweetheart.”

  Chapter 11

  Nick

  “I think I’m an asshole.”

  “Of course you’re an asshole, asshole. Where have you been for the past thirty-three years?”

  Brothers. They always have your back. Jude just likes to punch you in the face first.

  “Could you not fuck with me right now?”

  “Evan told me you were insane. Did you play park ranger and the stranded hiker to bleed out your issues, or did you talk like boring adults?”

  I couldn’t control the rush of emotion. I was terrified. Now I’m just exhausted. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

  “Ah, so the park ranger planted his flag. Good for you! That took no time at all. Was she as good as you remember? Are you two official now?”

  “Holy shit. Why did I call you? No, we aren’t together. Yes, she was amazing. Yes, I’m a colossal asshole.”

  “Wait.” I hear Jude’s office chair creak as he moves. “You two aren’t making a go of it? Why not? Evan said you were ready to blow a gasket, and you asked me to shop for her. By all miracles on earth you got Adam to bring her an outfit—which I picked out, by the way—and got him to start your heat. How does that not reek of being with someone?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.” I do know. I’m a fuck-all coward.

  “Spill it, now,” he demands. I can hear the chair groan again, then the thud of his hiking boots hitting the top of his wooden desk.

  I have skills in several areas: Woodworking. Hunting. Camping. General Mr. Fix-it things. I am no good at the soft feelings. The feelings that make you feel things make me . . . useless. “Remember when Mom took off?”

  Jude groans. “Nico, we’ve been over this. She wasn’t well. Crazy shit happened before you were even born. You took the brunt of her illness, but you have to know her behavior had nothing to do with us. Or Dad.”

  “But we don’t know why she left. She was just gone.”

  “She was. And she was mentally unstable. She walked away from six children and a husband for her own reasons, Nico. You were not the reason she decided to pack up and leave.”

  The memory of my mother hovering over me as she pinned me to the floor, screaming, “You ruined my life!�
� in my face informs me differently. “She said some fucked-up things, J.”

  “Yeah, to all of us.” He sighs; the office chair groans under his shifting weight. “She spit her venom at all of us. Her choices were wrong. Not us.”

  “It screws with my head,” I mumble, staring over the span of my property from the peak of my home. “The leaving.”

  “Is that why you are fucking things up with the redhead? Adam told me she has cherry-red hair. Does she dye the carpet? Is there a carpet?”

  It has only been a few days, but the brilliant red is starting to fade. “Dick, I’m not answering any questions about her body.” I pause, thinking about Jude’s connections. “I didn’t know where she went. I worried that she wouldn’t come back.”

  “But you aren’t going to go after her?”

  “What if she leaves again?”

  “What if she had a good reason for going?” Jude waits, but I don’t have an answer for him. “And, if you aren’t together, how does she know to stay?”

  But we were together. We were a pair. Coupled.

  “Listen, Nico—the only way you are going to get comfortable with anything is if you try. Stop being . . . you . . . Get out of your head. Talk to her. Take care of her. Teach her about life here. I don’t care if you have to play Scrabble just so you can apologize for your nuclear episode with the bear.”

  “Evan had his hands all over her,” I spit, feeling the irritation all over again.

  “Evan is a whore, and we all know it. Be a better whore than Evan and talk to her. Mother Nature is providing you a wonderful opportunity with the storm. These little bursts will give us a few inches of snow, but there is another punch the day after tomorrow. You will be snowed in for a few days. Make them count.”

  “You want me to play Scrabble with her?”

  “I want you and her to be together and be yourselves again. You deserve the opportunity to see if this person is the same person you always thought she was. If she wants you to touch her secret places, do it. Show her all your secret places. Figure out how everything fits together. Then repeat.”