Page 42 of Through The Woods

Chapter Twelve

Arms circled my waist as I placed the hot casserole on the stovetop and for a nanosecond, I imagined that it was Charm, turning my insides turned to mush. Thankfully, the rational side of my brain kicked in to inform me that I was an idiot.

I slowly turned around to face Joker. His eyes were shiny, as if he was about to cry, and he pointed at the various signs on the wall. He touched his chin and then the palm of his other hand.

Thank you.

I smiled. I knew he’d love it. “You’re welcome—ahh!” He picked me up and spun me around in a circle, before gently setting me back down and checking me over.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. You just surprised me.”

The look on his face—I hoped that I never forgot it. I thought only children were capable of expressions like that. Joy and innocence. I imagined that he’d always looked like this and it wasn’t hard to see why his friends had risked their own wellbeing to help him.

The journal hadn’t mentioned what had become of his father, but any other references to Matt were generally positive, given the circumstances. That was the thing about reading Charm’s writings—he was always so quick to help his friends, often sacrificing his own happiness in the process. It said a lot about his character and made those lustful thoughts I had that much more difficult to get rid of.

“Neve!” Charm growled and I jumped out of Joker’s arms guiltily. He followed me out of the kitchen and into the dining room where Charm was scowling at the signs on the walls. “What the hell is this?”

There are points in space with so much gravity, that not even light can escape. They’re known as black holes.

I would know—I was staring directly into one.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I—I just thought it would be good for everyone to learn sign language.” I pointed to Joker. “That way we can communicate with him, um, better.”

Gunner leaned over the railing upstairs, a grin on his face.

Jerk.

He was probably the one who told on me.

Charm sat down at the head of the table and leaned back, one leg casually crossed over the other. His hands rested on his thighs, making it impossible to determine if he was upset or getting ready for a power nap. “Neve, look around. This look like a fuckin’ elementary school to you? You gonna get a blackboard next? Post the damn alphabet up on the ceiling? Maybe the lyrics to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?”

I clenched my hands into fists and almost smiled as I did it. He’d done it. The bastard had cured me of my little infatuation. In fact, I could picture myself calmly walking back into the kitchen and picking up the butcher knife I’d used to chop vegetables. I could even see myself plunging it into his chest while reciting nursery rhymes.

And if ever there was a case where the left and right hemispheres of the brain could function independently of the other, Charm was it. What other explanation was there? He was so absolutely perfect at times that he melted my heart, but before I could get used to it, the cold exterior was back.

The man was a walking contradiction.

I opened and closed my mouth several times, while my brain worked to get my thoughts in order. “Noted, you friggin’ black hole,” I bit out before walking out the back door and slamming it shut behind me.

I walked until I came to the ledge and then I did the only thing I could, given the situation. I screamed until my throat was raw, before sinking down onto the smooth rock in tears.

Damn him and his black hole tendencies.

Damn the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde act.

“You alright, Neve?” I spun around and Guardrail took a hesitant step backward; he’d probably been warned about my fighting skills. It was humorous to see such an intimidating man frightened by someone like me.

He had to have been six and a half feet tall with jet black hair that fell past his gauged ears. His beard was so long that it rested on the collar of his cut-off. He was built like a bear—in fact, I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised to find out that he killed small woodland creatures with his hands. He was older than the other guys and acted as the voice of reason; well, when he was sober anyway.

I waved him off before turning back around. “I’m good. Go on in and eat. I just need a minute.”

“He means well—it’s not easy being the Prez. Definitely not a job I’d want.” He came closer to me and sat down. “Luck wasn’t exactly the easiest person to get along with and this club is nothing like what it was when he ran things.”

Boy, was that the understatement of the year.

I somehow managed to keep a poker face. “Oh, so Luck was a better Prez?”

He shook his head. “Not even close. My mama taught me not to speak ill of the dead, but I think I speak for almost everyone here when I say that not many tears were shed when he went to ground.”

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