Page 94 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

I step up behind him and press my face into his back, wrapping my arms around his waist and squeezing him tightly, wishing I could take some of his pain. “I know, but I knew you wouldn’t.”

He turns his head to the side to look back at me out of the corner of his eye. “How?”

“Because you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met in my life. You’re strong enough to do this.”

* * *

SILAS

I wish I could believe her.

I wish I felt like what she said was remotely true.

But standing here in a suit for the first time in fifteen years, I don’t feel strong.

I feel weak, exposed.

Even though every scar and almost every tattoo is covered, I still feel naked. Like I’m going to walk into that board meeting and every single person in that room is going to see straight through me, is going to pity me when they hear what was done, is going to think that I have no business stepping up in Bolton Steel.

There’s every chance this is going to backfire because I’m not strong enough to make it happen. Because I fucked up by running all those years ago when I should have stayed and fought for what I knew was right, even if it would have been a losing battle.

Fuck…

I scrub my hands over my beard and squeeze my eyes closed, wishing I was back on the mountain with Lyla and Whiskey, sitting in front of a fire and forgetting the world outside our tiny piece of it.

Lyla tightens her arms around my waist, hugging me until I finally get out of my own head. Whiskey finally trots over and presses against my leg. I dig my hand into his fur and rest the other over Lyla’s, threading our fingers together, Grandmother’s ring pressing into my palm.

“I don’t know what I’m going to say to them, Lyla.”

“You’re going to tell them the truth.” She squeezes me again, almost like she’s trying to give me some of her strength through the motion. “You’re going to tell them what you told me.”

Acid churns in my stomach at the thought of having to repeat any of that, of having to go into details I couldn’t with her. “He’ll deny everything…”

“Of course, he will, but that’s why we have Ronald.”

“I’d feel a lot better if I could actually get a hold of him.”

The dozens of calls we’ve made since we regained phone service after leaving the mountain have gone unanswered. Each time his voicemail picked up, I got more and more nervous. Uncle Marty’s threat that he was going to issue the same warning to Ronald as he did me the other day repeats in my head on an endless loop.

I squeeze her hand under mine. “I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t worry me that we can’t get in touch with him.”

“Do you think…” Lyla pauses for a moment, almost like she doesn’t want to say what’s on the tip of her tongue. “Do you think Marty did something to him?”

My spine stiffens at her question, even though it’s the one that’s been running through my mind, too. A dozen different scenarios have all popped into my head—some worse than others.

“Possibly. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of what he’s capable of, or Ronald might have gone to the FBI and gotten taken into custody immediately, either because they’re going to charge him or to protect him from Marty.”

Lyla nods against my back. “Let’s hope it’s one of those, right?”

“Yeah…”

Hope.

It’s always brought me nothing but disappointment in the past, but since Lyla’s arrival in my life, I’ve started to think it might not be something to fear anymore.

During my entire time on the mountain, the only memories that ever chased me were the bad ones, the ones that had me screaming out in the night and waking up in a cold sweat, the ones that had me sobbing at times and praying for them to go away. But now that I’m here, even though things have changed, seeing the familiar buildings, the park where I used to play lacrosse, my high school, the library, and all the other places I spent time when I wasn’t home, not all the memories are bad.

Laughter with friends—who had no idea what was really happening in my life. Holding hands and kissing and having sex with the few girls I got close to, even while staying mostly clothed because I couldn’t undress and have them see my wounds and scars. Escaping that house for a while to play the games kids should, instead of the sinister ones under that roof.

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