Page 125 of True North

Heavens above.

My heart cracks, and I reach for him as I nod.

The tears fall, warming my cheeks.

Before I can touch him, he jerks to his feet and stalks for the doorway.

“Harry,” I plead.

He throws a hand up, not turning back, and disappears into the hallway.

I bolt from the floor and take off after him. “Where are you going?”

“Fencin’.”

He shoves his hat on his head, tugging his coat from the hook. He slides his boots on. I slump against the corner of the hallway that meets the kitchen.

“Come on, you’ll freeze out there. It’s late. Too dark... Please stay.”

He doesn’t say a word.

The door slams, and the first sob tumbles from my twisted face. I slide down the wall and pull my knees to my chest. The pain that held him captive intensifies the ache in my chest. I choke on the slim wisp of air left in my lungs and rub my hands over my face.

Harry Rawlins.

My fire.

Always my ultimate demise.

We have always been strung too tight.

The crackling tension running between us has always been too much. We feel everything. We feel more than we should. Say things we don’t mean. Do things that hurt, things we would take back if we could.

Like the incredible highs can only be balanced by the lowest of lows. We, stupidly, let them take us there.

Nope, not anymore.

I push to my feet, march for the front door, and pull on my coat. Boots and my dress will have to do. I shove my own hand-me-down hat onto my head to keep me warm.

I push out into the dark and follow the echoing clangs of tools being tossed into the back of the old buckboard.

I find him gripping the workbench, bent over, shoulders heaving, head hanging. His rough breaths are the only sound in the large, frigid space.

I fold my arms over my chest when I file in behind him.

“Fine. You want to fence, we do it together.”

He turns back, arms hanging by his side. The fire in his eyes isn’t something I’ve ever seen directed at me before. I set my shoulders back.

He homes in on me. “You’re not coming.”

“Yes. I am.”

“I don’t need you, Louisa.” The second the words leave his mouth, his eyes dim, his body slacking. “I-I didn’...”

“I know.”

My chin wobbles again. He’s struggling with this. It’s hurting him, and there is so little I can do.

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