Page 30 of A Rugged Beauty
Like he'd do anything to protect her.
But what was he going to do now?
Six
With a growingsense of danger and urgency, H pulled the two of them out of their alcove and into the rain before Sparrow was ready. Three steps out into the torrential downpour and water rushed over H’s boots in rills down the incline. Suddenly, he felt an echo of the blow the man had landed on his ear.
For a moment, all he saw was an image of an older woman—his ma?—hurrying down a road at twilight, turning to send a tense smile over her shoulder at him. It only lasted for a second before his senses returned and he was back in the dark and pouring rain.
"Where are we going?" Sparrow asked.
H put one hand to his head, where slow beats of pain pulsed. "Away from here."
She was tucked up to his side and he felt her tip her head as if to look at him. "What's wrong? Did you get hit?"
"I'm fine for now."
But at that moment, another memory hit with the force of a sucker punch straight to his gut and he stumbled over some protruding object on the ground.
Her hands steadied him, but he was bigger than her, heavier. He kept his feet, but barely.
"H!" The worry in her voice twisted his gut, but he soldiered on.
"We've got to put some distance between us and that man." H's words had a bit of a groan to them.
"We will. Just slow down."
He felt the heat of her palm against his stomach, through his sodden shirt. It was a point to anchor himself as memories swirled over him. He barely bit back a cry. Pressed his palm to his forehead.
"What is it?" Stark fear was audible in her voice.
"A memory—I think." He couldn't hold the words in, not with the moments battering him.
"My cousin Charles was my best friend. We did everything together. Sat at Ma’s table to work on our reading after school. Worked in my pa's livery stable."
The rightness of the words slipped over him. He could remember the feel of Charles's arm slung over his shoulder, his teasing words as they'd walked home from school one afternoon. A fierce love rolled over H in a wave, strong enough to steal his breath.
Rain pelted his face and head but he didn't feel it. He barely registered Sparrow leading him through the darkness.
"We were... we were racing home after school one day. I can't—" He pushed back when his mind tried to steal the memory back into the darkness.
"There was something happening down the street." He saw the moments, as fractured as they must've been when he'd lived them. "Two men in a fight. A bad fight. One of them shot the other. I only had a glimpse because we were running. I was chasing Charles."
His chest began to ache as the memory unfolded further. The darkness and rain felt oppressive and foreboding.
Sparrow’s arm squeezed his waist. "It's all right."
He shook his head, some dormant instinct firing. It wasn't all right. Never would be again.
"My back was turned. I don't know what happened after the gun was fired. The man who was shot tried to get on his horse, but the animal didn't like the scent of blood—that's what my pa said later. The horse bolted?—"
And Charles had chosen that moment to dart across the street.
"Charles was run down." The words emerged hoarse. He was surprised they emerged at all. His throat felt like it was on fire. Grief swamped his chest.
"Did you see it happen?"
H wished for the oblivion he'd known moments ago. It was far, far better than this.
