by Wendy Cole
Bard was on the floor, halfway into pulling himself up, the lamp and all the pictures from the small table in the hallway scattered on the floor around him.
“What are you doing?” I opened the door a little more and stepped out where he could see me.
Bard’s head whipped towards me. He tried once again to pull himself up but lost his balance and fell back onto his ass.
He was drunk.
I watched him for a minute, but something about seeing him struggle made me heave a sigh and move to help.
When Bard saw me walking towards him, he stopped trying to get up and stared at me. Even in their unfocused state, those probing eyes seared. “Tequila,” he murmured, voice slurred.
“You’re drunk,” I pointed out needlessly. I grabbed his arm and fought to heave him upwards.
He was too heavy, and as he lost balance again, I was dragged down with him. My body sprawled out across his on the hallway floor.
I moved to stand back up.
Bard held me.
I looked down at him, fighting for strength; fighting not to get sucked in.
He lifted a hand then slowly ran it across the side of my face and into my hair. “I just wanted to look at you.”
He barely opened his mouth, and his tongue stumbled over each syllable. I could barely understand him.
“C’mon,” I said, fighting to get up and get him to the couch.
Bard held me firm. “No.”
“Bard…”
“Shhh, shhh, shhh.” He pressed a finger to my lips. “Don’t talk. Let’s just pretend for a little while that you don’t hate me.” He sounded so different, so exposed, raw, made completely uninhibited by the amount of alcohol he had so obviously consumed.
My chest hurt. “I don’t hate you,” I whispered.
Bard continued to stare up at me, his eyes roaming my face, memorizing me as if I were something precious. “Forgive me…”
My heart thundered so hard, I could feel the pulse inside my ears.
“Please…” he croaked as his eyes pleaded. “Please forgive me. I was wrong. Stupid. I should have believed you.” He cupped my face, held me still, and forced me to look at him.
Words failed me. I wanted to. I wanted to forgive him so fucking bad, but I was afraid. The idea of opening myself up once again, only to have it crash and burn…
“I lo-” Bard started, then stopped. His head tilted as if listening for something, and those sharp eyes darted to the left.
“Bard…”
He threw a hand roughly over my mouth.
The sudden seriousness put me on high alert, and my own ears strained for sound.
Then I heard it. Voices. Multiple voices coming from outside; distant but still audible. There was a chorus of laughs then someone barked an order.
His voice. That voice. That was the same voice that had barked at me in the same way so many times before.
Drake had found me.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Bard moved me off him and tried to stand, but he was too drunk. He hit the floor, and his eyes shot to mine. For the first time, I saw panic settle across his face. Bard was afraid, and the realization only increased my own terror.
We needed to get out of there. I needed to get us out of there.
I crouched down, gripped beneath his arms, and pulled.
Bard staggered up and leaned against the wall. “We need to get to the woods,” he said, his voice low.
I nodded. My blood rushed through me almost too fast for my veins to handle, and a tunnel formed within my thoughts. It blocked out the world until all that was left were tasks. Get to the door. Make it across the yard. Don’t let them see you. Be quiet.
Bard draped an arm across my shoulders while his opposite hand stayed glued to the wall. It was a slow trek to the back door, too slow. Thankfully, Drake’s men didn’t appear to be smart enough to think about us running.
“Can you manage to hold yourself up some?” I whispered up at him.
Bard’s eyes squared. He gave me a sharp nod then jerked his chin in a motion for me to open the door.
I held my breath and gripped the knob between ghostly white fingers. It gave a click that might as well have been a gunshot, and I slowly pulled it inwards as if my death stood on the other side.
Bard peeked around the frame then took a wobbly step forward and jerked his chin. “Move fast.” We darted out the back and broke into a run across the yard.
How he managed, I had no idea. He pulled me along by the arm, his legs too long for me to keep up with, and each time I’d trip, he’d yank me up before I had the time to touch the ground. We made it behind the tree line, and my shoulders slumped.
Bard’s didn’t. He leaned up against a tree, hyperalert and poised as his eyes scanned the area we’d left behind.
I followed his gaze.
Three men rounded the back. The moment they saw the backdoor open, they all turned towards the tree line. I took a step back even though they couldn’t see me.
“Shit!” one of the men cursed. “Go tell Drake. If she gets away, he’s gonna be pissed.”
Bard turned away from the scene. “Go.” He nudged me forward, guided me through the foliage as he used tree after tree to support himself.
I focused on my steps and fought to keep up, but he urged me on so quick, it was a struggle not to trip forward and fall on my face.
Even drunk, Bard didn’t seem to have any problem navigating through the dense shrubbery and over the many tree roots. He stepped over branches with ease and moved around dips and holes as if he had the entire place memorized.
“Go left,” he hissed, his command harsh.
I didn’t hesitate. I jumped over a log and sprinted ahead of him.
“That big tree…” He pointed. “There’s a ladder over the lowest branch. Pull it down.”
It took a minute, but I managed to find what he was talking about. When I tried to reach it, however, it was too high.
Bard staggered forward and reached around me. A rope ladder fell with a rattling shake to swing back and forth in front of me.
“Climb up.” He cast a glance behind us and scanned the darkness with a tight jaw.
I struggled. The ladder wouldn’t stand still. It wobbled and jerked and sent me backwards until it almost seemed easier to fly up. If I could barely manage it sober, how did Bard plan to make it in his current state?
Then, I came to a doorway. It was a treehouse, completely hidden amidst the dense branches and thick leaves.
I hoisted myself inside and looked down.
Bard gripped the rungs and seemed to have the same amount of trouble I had. It made me wonder how easily he could climb the flimsy ropes while sober.
When he neared the top, I moved back and grabbed his arm to help him inside. He tumbled in then slid beside the opening and pressed his back to the wall. His chest rose and fell heavily as he pulled the ladder up behind him.
“Bard?”
He threw up a hand and dipped his head back out towards the doorway. He was searching, his eyes sharp and fixed down to the earth below.
“They won’t be able to see us up here in the dark.” His voice was barely above a whisper. It was eerie in the tense atmosphere. “But we need to keep as quiet as possible.”
I nodded, and let my eyes roam the space. This was where Bard had been for the past week. I could tell. There was a mattress laid out in the far corner and a pile of neatly folded clothes on the opposite side.
The bed was unmade, still covered in a set of sheets and a rumpled comforter. A kerosene lamp sat on the floor right beside where his pillow rested, and some sort of book lay beside it.
I turned back to him, and he was still staring out the doorway, eyes like a hawk’s as he tracked and remained alert despite his inebriation.
I didn’t know what possessed me. Maybe it was the stress of it all. Maybe I was afraid and simply wanted comfort, but I crawled over to him.
Bard turned back to me, and I st
opped. My body was frozen. My hands and knees were still as I looked at him uncertainly. I needed him―needed his strength. I was terrified, and he was my safety.
He studied me for a moment then his arms opened wide and beckoned me to him.
I crawled into his lap.
Bard engulfed me. His arms circled and pulled me close. “I’ve got you,” he murmured directly into my ear.
I had no idea if I’d be around to see the sun rise. No idea if either of us would be killed, if Bard would be killed. I silently prayed that if he was, karma would take me too. The latter was too painful to even consider.
“I love you,” I said, my anger gone in the face of our inevitable fate.
Bard lifted my face to look at him. “I love you, too, but not because I’m afraid. They won’t find us. We’re safe.” He kissed my forehead then his eyes locked to mine, willing me to hear his words and believe them. “They don’t stand a chance here.”
I nodded but couldn’t believe it. Bard didn’t know Drake the way I did. He didn’t know what he was capable of.
He saw it, the hesitation, and his jaw clenched. “I’ll prove it to you.”
I cupped his cheek, stroked the beard climbing up his jaw, and lightly tangled my fingers into the hair hanging down beside his face.
Bard let me, his eyes drinking me in: searching, probing, seeing me.
Suddenly, it was imperative. A clock was ticking. A timer was counting down the amount of moments I had left on this earth, and I didn’t want to go out and leave things the way they were. I couldn’t.
“I want you to know,” I whispered, my voice thick, “I need you to know that I forgive you, Bard.”
His shoulders lifted on a sigh. “I want you to, but not because of this. You’re safe, Jessie. I swear it.” He cupped my head and trailed his hand across my hair, the same way he did when I had a nightmare. I leaned into him, let myself pretend for that split moment that Drake wasn’t two steps away from finding me; that we were back in the field; that I’d open my eyes in just a moment and Bard would be making pancakes.
“Never again,” he murmured. “I’ll never doubt you again.”
A lump lodged into my throat, and I nodded.
The crunch of leaves and branches made my lungs collapse. Steps echoed out from below; noisy and clumsy sounds from men more accustomed to concrete.
Bard held me tighter and peeked back out the doorway. Without looking at me, he brought a finger to his lips.
“Oh, Jessie,” Drake sang. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
My breath caught, and the memory of every scar across my back burned in anticipation. I clung to Bard, desperate to hide, to get away, to stop the inevitable.
Bard’s hold tightened and a glance up at his face revealed a hard jaw and an even harder set of eyes.
“I missed you, sweetheart!” Drake continued. “I just want to see you. We can forget the whole thing.”
A whimper crawled up my throat, and I threw a hand over my mouth to contain it. I was a fly in the spider’s web, immobilized and forced to watch as it crept closer.
Bard slid his arm under mine and forced the hand away from my mouth, then before I could even comprehend his motives, his lips hit mine, deep and urgent.
It broke me away from the fear and put me with him and him alone. Focus on me, he seemed to say, needing no words to say it. It was in his hands, in the feel of him as he pulled me closer. He was my security, and even with everything that had happened, I welcomed him. I needed him, and despite my pushing him away, he was right there to catch me just like he always did.
“There you are!”
I choked and broke away.
He could see us.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Bard placed a hand over my mouth and pulled my head forward. His lips pressed against my ear, and in a voice that was more breath than words, he murmured, “He’s bluffing.”
I nodded; the motion far too jerky. Parts of my body I didn’t even know could tremble, did, and I stared wide eyed in the direction Drake’s voice had come from.
“Jessie!” His boots crunched the dead leaves. He was directly below us, circling. “You fucked up real, real bad, sweetheart!”
I jolted, and not even Bard’s presence helped to calm me. I fought to breathe, but once again, it felt empty.
He was going to find me. He was going to torture me. It would be worse. He would know about Bard.
I looked at the man I’d given my heart to.
His face was stone, but his eyes didn’t cut. There was a wild glint to them, wide and glassy. They spoke of murder. It was how I’d seen him the first night at the bar. There was no fear of death, just rage, memories, and a lust for vengeance.
“Hiding isn’t helping you. It’s fucking cold, Jessie. We both know I’m going to find you, so you might as well come out.” Drake’s voice drifted as he continued to walk the area. “The longer we play this game, the worse it’s gonna be.”
I doubled in on myself and shook my head. He was right. He was going to find me. I thought of all the things that awaited me, and his threatening words almost made me give in. If it wasn’t for Bard, I’d have already given up.
I could save him.
I cut my eyes back over again. Drake wasn’t after Bard. If I could just give myself up, maybe he could get away, and…
Bard must have seen something in my expression because his jaw clenched even harder, and his hand cupped my head. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. Those eyes cut down to my bones and said what words never could. He’d protect me. We were in this together, and there was no way he’d leave me to deal with this alone.
“You two! Go left! Try not to get fucking lost!”
I jerked, and Bard’s grip tightened.
“Sam, take John and go right. Me and Fred will keep on straight. We are not leaving these fucking mountains until we find her, so try not to be fucking useless for once in your miserable fucking lives!”
Bard tilted over and peeked through the opening.
Their voices drifted further and further until they finally diminished completely.
I sat frozen as his hawk eyes scanned the ground below with his jaw tensed and muscles coiled.
When it was clear they’d moved on, he turned back to me. “They’re gone now. I want you to stay here.”
“What?” I gaped at him. “Where are you going?”
Bard lifted me with him, half-crawled across the floor, then dropped me down onto the mattress.
“I’m going after them.” He turned back and searched for something. “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker once and for all.”
His voice was still low, but the venom behind it made it sound like a shout.
I reached out and gripped his shirt. “You’re drunk.”
Bard held firm, and his face contorted in a mask of barely-suppressed rage. “He was right there,” he hissed. “Right there and my stupid fucking ass was too drunk to do anything!” He looked away as his jaw clenched. “He’s out there,” he slung a hand out, “walking around on my father’s land. My land.” He beat a fist to his chest. “My land! Threatening my woman!”
I threw a hand over his mouth and wrapped my body around his, knocking him backwards. He was too damn drunk. It was making him reckless. I needed him to stop. “Calm down. They could still hear you.”
His eyes shot to mine, wide and wild. He gripped my back and held me firm. “You look so fucking scared…because of him.” If possible, his anger grew. “I want him gone, Jessie. I want to show him what fear is, what pain is. I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”
His shoulders heaved, and he rolled his neck as if it all had become too tight. The hands that held me balled into fists against my back, and my shirt tangled into his grip. Everything about him seemed wound too tight and ready to explode. Then one of his arms broke away, and he slammed his fist down hard onto the floor beside us.
I flinched.
Bard’s attention shot to me,
and as if a switch had been flipped, all that fire dulled to warmth.
“Don’t be scared.” His hands relaxed and gently palmed my shoulder blades. He sighed, rested his forehead against mine, and the smell of too much Wild Turkey wafted towards my nose. “I promise you, he’s never going to touch you again.”
I leaned into him, willed myself to believe it, if only for the temporary peace it would bring. But no matter how hard I tried, it just didn’t seem possible.
“Please,” I pleaded. “Just wait until you’re sober.”
Bard stared at me, his eyelids drooping as he studied every inch of my face. His expression was completely different than the one he’d held just a few seconds before. He pulled me with him back to the bed and stretched us both across the mattress.
“I love you so much,” he whispered. He once again took pieces of my hair, let the strands run between his fingers, and stared at it in wonder. “I’m gonna marry you, Jessie.”
My heart lurched, but I fought against the feeling. He was drunk. People said a lot of things when they were drunk, and even if he meant it, the odds were too slim to even consider. We were on the run from death, hidden in the dark, and the sun always rose whether it was beneficial or not.
Bard continued to stare at my hair, twirling it, transfixed. “My North Star.” His eyes met mine. “I was lost until I met you.”
I blinked back moisture. His words, the stress of the night, it was too damn much.
“Hey,” Bard stroked my cheek. “Don’t cry, Jessie. Please.” His voice was gruff, and he pulled me closer to him. “I’m sorry I let you down. I’m supposed to protect you, and I can’t even walk straight.”
I pulled away and looked at him. “You did protect me, Bard. You brought us here. We made it.”
Bard’s glassy eyes studied my face again. “Tomorrow I’m going to find him. I’m going to make you feel safe.” The words slurred as his eyelids drooped. He clutched me one last time before his eyes shut completely, and the moment they did, his breathing deepened.
I stared at him, and the magnitude of what had happened settled over me like a fog. I could lose him. Really lose him. Drake would take him away just like he’d taken everything else.
