by K. Webster
I start to get a pain in my stomach from breathing cold air and running. Ignoring the throbbing, I rush up the last few steps. I’ve just made it to the top landing when fire hits me in the back.
“Ahhh!” I cry out.
Don’t stop.
Keep going.
Tears freely leak out of my eyes, but I keep running toward the gate. When it opens from the inside and my dog rushes in, I nearly sob in relief.
“Help! Reed!” I scream.
Reed—giant and fierce with his dark beard and crazed eyes—comes into view, a shotgun in his hand. He aims it right for my head. I duck out of the way and then he fires.
Boom!
Wretch curses behind me, but I don’t think he’s been hit. Regardless, now he has Reed after him, so he better run.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Reed continues past me, popping away on his shotgun. I rush into the gate, right into the waiting arms of Devon. Her pregnant belly presses against me. Suddenly, my fear of getting killed is outweighed with the worry she’ll get hurt instead.
“Y-You have to get inside,” I tell her, my teeth chattering from a mix of fear and cold. I’d run out of the shack half asleep. No shoes. No coat. Nothing.
“Oh my God,” she whimpers. “You’re freezing cold. Where are your shoes?”
She guides me toward the big cabin, clinging to me so I don’t fall. It’s then I realize my feet are bruised and bloody from sticks and brush. There may not be snow anymore and we’re pushing into spring, but it’s still bitter cold, especially at night.
We make it onto the porch and then inside the cabin. It’s warm and smells like apple cinnamon—my favorite oatmeal flavor. The fact I know this makes me smile just a little. I learned a lot while with Atticus. Not nearly enough, but a lot.
“We heard gunshots,” she says as she helps me sit on their sofa. “When Atticus had left that trailer a couple months ago, we figured you were healed and he dropped you off too. The gunshots made us think maybe you were in trouble. Reed flew out of here and it looks like just in time too.” She grabs a blanket and wraps it around me. “Let me put tea on and throw some logs on the fire. Try to warm up.”
Buddy—their old dog—limps into the living room and eyes Blind Bear with interest. Blind Bear wags his tail and then flops on the ground, exhausted from our narrow escape. Buddy sniffs him but must deem him safe because he also falls to the ground. Neither dog bothering to throw a stink about the other.
“Will Reed be okay?”
She smiles and it stretches across her face. “Of course he will. It’s Reed. He’s the predator. Everything else out there exists because he allows it.”
I let loose a giggle. The pride she has for Reed reminds me of how I was with Atticus. At my laughter, her eyes widen.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you…” She frowns. “You haven’t ever spoken much, but laughed? Never.”
I haven’t laughed much in the last two months.
“I think I learned it watching Friends.”
“Friends, huh?” She snorts. “I want to hear more of this story when I get back.”
As she busies herself, I gently pull down the blanket and look over my shoulder. My hoodie is soaked in blood. That monster shot me. Anger surges through me, but I’m too tired to do anything about it.
The door flings open and Reed steps through, a scowl on his face. “Who was that guy?”
“Wretch. Short for Wretched Man.” I shrug and then wince. “He stalks me like I’m dinner he needs to hunt. We’ve been playing this game for two months.”
Reed cocks his head, his brows furling. “You’re babbling.”
“I’m tired and that asshole woke me up by burning down my house. Then, he shot me. The babbling is keeping me from passing out.”
He smirks and shakes his head. “What did he do to you?”
“Shot me.”
“No, not him. Atticus.”
Tears well in my eyes and I break his gaze. He stares at me intensely before walking into another room. He returns with a kit.
“I thought the only word you knew was fruit,” he says as he sits on the table in front of the sofa. “Your eyes spoke volumes, though.”
“I haven’t spoken to anyone in two months besides Blind Bear over there.”
He opens the kit and starts rifling through supplies. “Oh? What about Atticus?”
“What about him?” I ask bitterly.
His eyebrow lifts at my sharp words. “He just dropped you off without even saying hello to us? Seems out of character. He usually stays for weeks at a time when he comes to visit.”
“He was in a hurry to get away.”
“From what?”
“Me.”
Reed narrows his eyes. “Hmmm.” He leans forward to inspect my shoulder. “Fucker shot you. Take your hoodie off and let me see the damage. Turn around so I can see your back.”
I start to tug it up, but pain stops me. “Owwww.”
Devon rushes in with a teacup in hand. She sets it on the table beside the supplies and gives me a sympathetic smile. Ryder starts to cry from the other room. She rushes off as I gingerly slide my arm through the arm hole on my injured side. Then, I tug away the hoodie, twisting to reveal my back to Reed. His fingers are cold as he flits them over my skin.
“That bullet needs to come out. Luckily it doesn’t look deep.” He starts digging around in the kit. “This is going to hurt. Maybe I should grab some whiskey.”
“I can take it,” I assure him. “Been mauled by a bear, remember? Wretch is nothing.”
“Still same fierce Eve,” Reed says with a chuckle. “Now she’s a smartass too.”
“Better to be a smartass than a dumbass.” I learned that one from TV.
He laughs loudly and then cold liquid drenches my injured shoulder, making me squeal. “Sorry,” he mutters, his voice amused. “Now stay still. I’m going to dig it out.”
Devon returns with her dark-haired baby nursing from her breast. She wears a frown of worry. I can’t help but stare at her as she cradles the baby. He’s big, chunky, alive. My eyes water as I think about my little beings under the tree. So small and weak.
She comes to sit beside me on the sofa. I can’t help myself when I reach forward to touch his fuzzy head. Soft like a baby bunny. I want to pull him to me and inhale the scent of his hair.
Devon’s eyes are wide as she regards me with curiosity. I howl when Reed’s hand clamps into my shoulder to hold me still and starts digging with some sort of tool into the wound. Devon reaches over to hold my hand, sympathy in her gaze. I sob loud enough that I wake their other two children.
“Daddy,” Rowdy says, holding Ronan’s hand. “Why are you making Eve cry?”
“She’s got a bullet in her,” Reed explains. “I have to get it out and it hurts.”
Rowdy and Ronan walk closer, eyes shining with curiosity. Ronan breaks away from his brother to climb onto the sofa and sit next to me. Rowdy climbs on the back of the sofa and perches there like a bird, watching me with a cocked head.
“Sorry,” Devon says. “They’re curious.”
I nearly black out from pain, but then Reed exclaims that he got it. He drenches me in liquid that stings and then starts to sew the flesh. Trying to ignore the sting, I focus on Ronan. He watches me with wide eyes and touches my hair with his tiny hands. My heart melts.
“Here.” Devon leans forward to grab the teacup and then offers it to me.
I sip the hot but weak liquid and let out a sigh. “Do you have coffee?”
Reed laughs again. “Yeah, we have coffee, city girl. You need rest, though. I promise you a cup in the morning.”
I frown and sip more of the tea. “He’ll come back.”
“Atticus?”
Wincing at his words, I shake my head. “Wretch.”
“I’ll blow his goddamn head off if he tries.”
“Good.”
“You going to tell us what happened? Why did Atticus drop you off and
bail?” Reed’s voice is stern and commanding. He wants answers. I just don’t know if I can voice them. It hurts too much.
“He had to,” I tell him, my voice quivering as I hug my hoodie to me.
“That doesn’t sound like Atticus,” Devon murmurs. “He’s caring and thoughtful. He doesn’t abandon his friends.”
Friends.
I choke on a sob.
“He, uh, I’m not his friend.”
Devon looks past me at Reed and I can feel the silent conversation between them. They’re trying to understand. My heart hurts so much. In Friends, they told each other things that hurt and it helped. Devon and Reed are my friends, even if I’m not very good at being one back.
“We…” I trail off. “I loved him.” Still do.
Devon sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh.”
Reed is silent behind me as he bandages me up.
“Then something happened?” Devon encourages.
I think about my favorite show and explain all my heartache and loss in a way they’ll understand being real city folks and all. “We broke up.”
“Eve—” Reed’s voice is lethal, but Devon cuts him off.
“Not now,” she whispers. “So he left you here with us? Why didn’t you come to us?”
“Wretch must have caught a ride in the trailer. As soon as Atticus was gone, Wretch was there. Shooting and chasing. I ran and ran. Been at my shack until tonight. He set it on fire.” Tears well in my eyes. I lost everything. My packs. My stores of food. My clothes. Everything I ever owned was in that shack.
Nausea roils in my stomach.
Defeat infects me as I come to the realization that loss is all I’ll ever know.
“I, uh, I need to use the bathroom,” I squeak out as I stand. The room spins as I turn. Reed grips my arm to keep me from falling.
“What the—” He yanks my hoodie out of my grip.
Devon gasps.
Rowdy giggles and Ronan stands up on the sofa to touch my stomach.
“Baby,” Ronan chirps in his cute toddler voice. “Baby like Momma.”
With one arm covering my breasts, I use the other hand to palm my slightly protruding stomach. Hot tears rush down my cheeks. I wish, little Ronan. I wish I could have babies like your momma. Every morning I think strong thoughts. I think of Atticus in the early hours, hoping to give the energy to my little being. If I think about burying the little one with the others, it makes me cry and cry. I’m so tired of crying. I want to keep it. I want it to grow and live like Devon’s children. It’s a piece of Atticus I crave to hold and love.
The room spins and strong arms keep me from falling.
Everything goes blissfully black.
I wake the next morning and the cabin is quiet. I’m wearing new clothes that must belong to Devon. I don’t remember changing into them. Last night was a blur of pain and sobbing. As the sun peeks in the windows, I begin my every morning ritual. Rubbing my palm over my stomach, I speak to my being.
“Your father is big and strong. Beautiful. Gentle and kind.” Tears leak down my temples. “He would love you if he knew. I have no doubts about that.” I let out a ragged sigh. “He’s not like the others. The hateful ones who hurt me before. Like Wretch.”
Still out there.
Still waiting.
“He won’t hurt you,” I assure my being. “Maybe…I don’t know…maybe you can fight really hard. Maybe you don’t have to go with the others between my mother and sister. Maybe you can stay with me. Maybe one day we’ll see him again. Together.”
Hope is deadly.
It infects me. Rushes through my veins and buries itself in the marrow of my bones. When it’s done consuming me from the inside out, it heats my flesh and threatens to devour me whole.
“I may be a little fox, but I’m a hunter. One day you’ll be a hunter too. One day I’ll hunt you down a television so you can know about pizza and Friends and cartoons. I will learn to read and then I’ll teach you too. I will be the best mom. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever.”
My heart blazes with conviction.
As long as Wretch is out there—horrible like Ezekiel and my father and my other brothers—he’ll always be a threat. I need to eliminate that threat if my little being has any hope of growing into a baby.
He will.
This being is half Atticus.
Strong. Strong. So strong.
I climb out of the bed and start pulling on the boots that were left out for me. I slip out of the extra bedroom and creep down the hallway. It doesn’t take long to find one of their packs and toss some supplies in it. Devon’s coat hangs by the door. She won’t mind if I borrow this. On the way out, I grab Reed’s shotgun too.
“Blind Bear, you coming?”
He groans but then rises, his fluffy tail swishing.
“Good boy. Let’s go kill us a rat.”
* * *
* * *
It’s late in the afternoon and the sun has warmed the spring day to the point I probably won’t need my coat today. Smoke billows from Reed and Devon’s chimney. It makes me wonder what they’re cooking for supper. My stomach growls because when I left this morning, I didn’t grab anything to eat. Just filled my truck with supplies and flew out of there in my haste to get to her.
She’ll be upset.
I know Eve. She’ll give me her angry scowls and pout. But I have plans to woo her. I brought peanut butter and oatmeal and coffee. She’ll forgive me. At least, I hope.
I’m just parking the truck when the gate opens.
Eve.
Eve.
Eve.
But it’s not her.
It’s my friend.
I shut off the truck and hop out. He has his .45 in his grip. For one second—based on the fierce glint in his eyes—I’m afraid he might shoot me.
“Hey, man,” I call out, waving.
His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. “Why are you here?”
I’m caught off guard by his words. “To visit.”
“Who?”
Unease trickles down my spine. This feels like a loaded question and considering it’s coming from a man holding a loaded gun, I choose my words carefully.
“Everyone.” But mostly Eve.
Reed prowls forward and it reminds me of when he’s hunting. His proverbial hackles are raised. The thrill of the hunt is coursing through his veins as violence shines in his eyes.
“Eve here?”
Wrong words.
He pounces on me, his hand finding my throat as he throws me against my truck. I’m technically bigger than Reed, but this man is feral and uncontained. He lost that docile element most people living in society have years ago, probably when Eve’s family decided to rape his wife. Reed’s been a rabid bear ever since, protecting what’s his.
But Eve?
She’s not his.
She’s mine.
“What the fuck,” I snarl, glowering at him.
“Yeah, what the fuck is right, you hypocritical bastard.”
Anger surges up inside me and I shove him away. My throat throbs from the hold he had. I’ll probably bruise. Fucker.
“Why are you being an asshole?” I demand, rubbing at my neck, eyeing the way his hand holding the gun trembles.
“Me? You’re the one who dropped Eve off on my doorstep like she was an unwanted puppy,” he accuses, his eyes flashing with fury. “Real asshole move if you ask me.”
Guilt swarms up inside me, stinging me everywhere all at once.
“Does she hate me?” I ask, my words a mere, broken whisper.
He lets out a derisive snort. “Hell no. From what I could tell, she loves you.”
Hope surges hot and brilliant in my chest. “I want to see her.”
“You can’t.”
“The fuck I can’t!”
He approaches again but doesn’t touch me. Just gets right in my face. “All those years you gave me shit about Devon. And here you were fucking a sixteen-year-old. That’s called being a
hypocrite, man.”
“She—”
“And she’s not just any kid, Knox, she’s Eve. Sweet, scared, little Eve. I don’t even want to fucking know how you got her to sleep with you. But so help me if you forced or manipulated her—”
“Fuck you!” I roar, shoving him hard. “I may be a hypocrite, but I’m not a goddamn monster. I love her, dammit. I wouldn’t hurt her.”
He shoves his gun into the back of his jeans—thank fuck—and crosses his arms over his massive chest. “When the pussy got old, you dropped that shit on my front lawn?”
“Talk about her that way again and so help me, Reed, I will make you regret that shit,” I threaten, taking a step toward him.
“You still can’t speak to her.”
Fucking bastard. “I need to make things right.”
“Boo fucking hoo, Atticus.”
I’m going to punch this guy if he doesn’t stop his shit and let me see my woman.
“She’s gone,” he says.
“Gone? Did she go to her shack? Where the fuck did she go?”
“I think she went after him.”
I stand there, staring at him in confusion. “Her dog?”
“Fuck no,” he snaps. “Not her dog. Him. Wretch. The fucker who has a major hard-on for trying to kill her.”
Wretch?
What the hell is he talking about?
“Man, you’re not making any sense—”
“She told us about the fruit. The guy who broke the window.”
My blood grows cold at his words.
“Apparently the toothless bastard hitched a ride in your trailer.”
No.
Fuck no.
“Chased her right off my property. She’s been avoiding the bastard ever since. That was until last night when he set her shack on fire with her in it.”
I drop to my knees, the fear of her dying consuming me to the point I can’t breathe. I clutch at my chest, tears burning trails down my cheeks.
“She got away,” he says coolly. “But he shot her.”
I snap my head up and growl, “He what?”
“Shot. Her.” He gazes off toward the trees. “Pulled the bullet out myself. This morning, she was gone. Took some shit of ours, including a shotgun, so I know she has plans to go after him. I’ve been packing some shit this afternoon. I’ll need to go out there and help her.”
