Page 23 of Beneath the Mountain Sky
Of course, Willow didn’t want to take them. Tried to say she was fine, even though I saw every twinge, every wince, every cringe as she struggled to get out of bed and dressed, even with the help of the nurse. But knowing we’d be coming up here, how long it would take, and how difficult a drive it is, I’m relieved I finally got her to relent.
I couldn’t bear to see her in any more pain than she’s already suffered.
Because of me…
The closer we draw to the turnoff to the property, the heavier the guilt weighs down on me and the stronger the anxiety ripples beneath my skin.
For the past year, I’ve prayed she would return. That I’d have an opportunity to apologize. That I might get a chance to beg for her forgiveness and receive at least that, even if she could never forget what I said or take me back.
It’s all I’ve wanted.
The only thing I’ve wanted for so damn long that it was basically all I thought about.
Having her back.
But not like this.
Never like this.
Seeing her in so much pain, so confused, so frustrated, makes my body vibrate with a barely contained rage.
At anyone else who may have had a hand in this.
At myself.
At the fact that we have nothing to go on.
Sheriff Briggs didn’t find anything near the river during his initial cursory search after we found her, and since Willow still doesn’t remember, his talk with her this morning before we left the hospital didn’t offer any helpful details.
Which means I need to get out there.
As much as I don’t want to leave her—even for a moment—I know this mountain better than anyone.
If there’s something to find, Connor, Liam, and I will find it.
Just like I found her.
The truck rolls over another bump in the dirt road, jostling the cab. Willow shifts restlessly in her sleep, her soft brow furrowing, eyes scrunching closed, and I reach over and rest my hand on hers atop her thigh, twining my fingers through her much smaller ones.
She instantly relaxes, releasing an almost relieved sigh.
Fuck.
My heart stutters, skipping a beat with the knowledge that I still have that effect on her. After all this time and everything that happened between us, I can still calm her nerves and quell her anxiety. I can be the balm she needs to soothe whatever pain she feels and the hero to chase away the demons in her dreams.
But it’s only because she doesn’t remember.
It’s only because—to her—everything’s still great between us.
She still thinks things are perfect because they were that night after the Memorial Day Festival last year…
The next day changed everything.
The next day is what got us here.
As we reach the turnoff for our land, I reluctantly tug my hand away to turn the wheel and pull through the narrow archway of trees that lead up onto the mountain, to the homestead that’s been in the McBride family for nearly two hundred and fifty years.
It takes almost fifteen minutes for the forest to finally open up to reveal the large clearing holding my cabin, the main barn, my workshop, Willow’s workspace, and the rest of the smaller outbuildings, along with the livestock pens.
