Page 46 of Recurve Ridge

I focused on not ripping Miller’s head off while Mari walked away in a cloud of quiet confidence, a small, private smile curling her lips when she looked back, her step lightening.

Careful what you wish for, Robe.

12

MARI

Miller’sgood humor lasted half the lifespan of the bruises I incurred from my first training session. By the time the week ended, tender spots covered my body like he’d used a meat hammer instead of his feet and fists. Alan spent his nights applying cream to and helping me work out stiff joints. I knew from the looks he exchanged with Robe in silent conversation above my head that he worried the training damaged me too much.

The simple truth they both ignored was that I enjoyed the physical activity.

Moreover, I enjoyed the power working on my body developed in me, the confidence that I wouldn’t be a useless victim ever again.

Robe gave me the few cheap and somewhat pathetic kicks I aimed at his thigh with the intent of bruising his ego and only succeeded in deflating my own. Miller built my limits, adding to my repertoire of attack and defensive moves, and trained my mind and my body to react in a specific manner.

Anything was better than panic.

The aching muscles and tender spots remained my badges of honor, and when I didn’t complain or say anything, neither did the boys.

Miller watched me each day, the distrust in his demeanor reducing with each drop of sweat I left in the clearing, my essence mingling with theirs on the ancient mountain range they called home.

Scuffing my socked feet on the floor, I procrastinated against opening the cabin door to let the still-frigid air inside, my toes curling within their warm confines.

Behind me, Alan snickered. I couldfeelRobe rolling his eyes.

And I could have happily stayed there all morning, facing a closed door in a warm house heated by the bodies of five enormous mountain men.

Until a single whisper behind me took my choice away. “Wuss.”

Chin in the air, I gripped the handle of the door, preparing to face another morning practice with Miller in icy mountain air that left me cold until I curled into Robe’s arms in his bed again each night, and tugged the door open.

Arctic air blasted in my face as I shoved my feet forward and yanked the door closed behind me, but a much larger frame obliterated Miller’s expected form.

“Morning.” Jon watched me with an open face. Unlike the rest of the members of Robe’s household, Jon held nothing back. His expressions reflected exactly what he felt at heart level, and warmth, both the temperature sort and compassion based, rolled from him like a tangible thing. The huge man rocked from foot to foot, a fine blush rising above the edges of his shaggy beard. “I’m taking on your training today. Wanna go for a walk?” He gave me a shifty sort of smile and jerked his head toward a trail I never used that meandered into the trees north of the house.

“Uh, sure.” I offered a wonky smile, resisting the urge to look back over my shoulder, but I’d already closed the door behind me, so I wouldn’t be able to see Robe anyway.

Telling myself that I trusted him like I did the others, I took the hand Jon stretched out. His roughened fingers, thicker than the ones on Robe’s massive mitt, closed around mine. He didn’t dwarf my smaller form; he obliterated me.

But as with many giants of men, at least in the physical sense, Jon appeared to be a great big teddy bear, cuddly and protective. I didn’t doubt that he could rock an apron and cook up barbeque to match Alan’s flair at the bar. Because houses had bars.

I rolled my eyes. Only Robe, honestly. That man created the limit.

“I wanted to show you a bit of the mountain now that it’s less vicious out,” Jon called over his shoulder as he towed me into the tree line that closed off any visual of the house.

As happened each time I stepped into the forest, my breath shortened. I snapped twigs that grew at odd angles out of the giant trunks we passed, recalling the bite of every stick and ice-laden foliage I ruined in my headlong dash from hell.

Breath hovered at my lips, but my throat remained a vacuum, and every major function in my body stalled for a black-edged moment. I gripped Jon’s hand too tight, pulling him back.

“Stop.” I gaped like a fish out of water, desperate and in need of the cabin’s close walls and population to block out the memories that swarmed me.

Why am I not like this with Robe?

Able to call for help, touch him when I needed him. But I couldn’t. It was like a physical barrier stood between us, waiting for one of us to shatter it, when neither of us could.

Or would.

Not like with Jon, where everything started easy. Too easy, because I let my guard down for a single second when I begged for his help and the reaching hands from my memory of that day swarmed back, obliterating everything?—

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