I smile and wrap my arm around his chest.
“Okay?” he says, squeezing my arm. “We’re here because we love each other. We made that decision. Our story isn’t even close to being done. We are going to live this chapter and see what happens next.”
“Okay,” I agree, feeling my body become heavy. My eyelids fall. A yawn escapes my mouth and I burrow my head farther into Lark.
He kisses the top of my head and I drift off into a dreamless sleep.
A light, almost muted melody drifts through the air and tickles my senses awake, coaxing me out of unconsciousness. I listen for minutes as the tune plays from another room and in the back of my mind, I can’t quite figure out where it’s coming from. My body hums and I stretch my sore limbs. And while the velvety song flutters around the room, I feel at ease. It’s almost as if the notes from the song are somehow lulling me into its grasp, holding me tight—comforting me. As the song decrescendos and disappears into silence, I beam.
I force my eyes open, and the harsh morning sun trickles through the window. It assaults my sensitive eyes, making me squint. Pushing the blanket off my body, I flinch when my feet touch the icy, cold hardwood floor. In the closet, I find a thick robe and secure it around my body. Fishing my trusty hair tie out of the robe’s pocket, I pile my hair into a bun on top of my head.
I make my way into the sunroom to find Lark sitting at the piano. He’s writing music notes on a page full of music staffs and he doesn’t notice me. His eyebrows crinkle in a concentrated manner and he sets the pen in his mouth, placing his hands on the keys. With a feather-like touch, he plays notes—maybe six or seven—and stops, writing down the music when he’s satisfied. The corners of his mouth turn up as the pen swipes at the paper, his eyes lighting up the moment he finishes a measure.
I sit in quiet silence with my arms crossed and watch him in awe. I refuse to take my eyes away. His process is magical. The way his mind works to find the precise notes is something beyond beautiful—it’s enchanting. I wish there was a more eloquent way to describe it. He’s just…incredible.
His chest is bare and the sleep pants he must have slipped on after he woke up this morning, hang low on his hips. The dark blue in contrast to his tan skin is magnificent in the early sunrise. His light brown hair gives him an angelic aura and in the sunlight, it appears almost blonde—golden, even. I’d never noticed the color before.
And maybe I never really had the chance.
He pushes his long hair away from his face with his right hand as his left continues to play. I must catch his eye because the music immediately stops and a smile replaces his fierce, concentrated expression.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he greets and gets up from the bench. His strut is evident as he walks to me. My heart flusters at his intense stare and I step forward, wrapping my arms around his neck when we meet in the middle. He kisses my neck and I melt. His lips work their way toward mine. The moment his mouth connects with mine, I’m engulfed in mint and sweetness, a scent that is only Lark. His hands find my face and he pulls back, looking deep into my eyes. They shine bright and a smile greets me. It’s lazy and tired, but it’s a sight I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of. He closes his eyes and moves slowly back to me. His soft lips mingle with mine, and this time, his tongue enters my mouth and I can’t contain the sigh that leaves me. His warm mouth chills my cold bones and I hold onto his shoulders as he ravages me. His arms encase my body and I instantly feel loved. It’s magical, the way that he holds me. It tells me he feels something deep and intense. I only hope I mirror the emotion.
When we break apart, he places his hand on the back of my neck and kisses my forehead.
“What’s on the docket today?” I ask.
He gives me a weary look and steps away, walking back to the piano. “Pretty much the same as yesterday.”
I laugh. I’m not going to complain about being locked away in the middle of nowhere with Lark. There are worse things to be doomed to. “So, nothing, then?” I ask, walking to him with a sultry look. Well—I at least attempted a sultry look, I’m sure I failed miserably. Sexy is not my forte. He moves to the edge of the bench in anticipation and raises his eyebrows. Settling both of my legs around Lark’s body, he grabs my hips and kisses me long and deep. I rock against him and fire begins in my belly, setting me aflame.
We spend the rest of the day doing ‘pretty much the same,’ and it’s beyond amazing.
Two weeks.
Two, long, agonizing weeks we’ve been here. A major snowstorm hit last night and knocked out the power. We have no cable, no internet, no interaction with the outside world whatsoever. Not to mention, I’m freezing, I mean, absolutely chilled, down-to-my-bones cold.
And lucky for me, I’ve somehow found a way to make Lark upset.
The quiet, I can handle. The subtle stillness of nature is a damn walk in the park. But the stony, icy stares from Lark are a little too much to stomach.
And as I sit on the couch, bundled in three layers of clothes and two heavy blankets, I wonder how I went so wrong in such a short amount of time.
Sure, throughout the last weeks, we’ve had struggles. Spending all day, every day with someone isn’t easy, even when you’re stupidly in love.
I pound my head on the back of the ice-clad leather couch and try to force myself to chill out. Metaphorically speaking, that is.
Lark has been outside in the freezing temperature for a little over two hours now and I don’t know if he froze to death or decided to up and leave but I’m getting more worried as the minutes tick by. I’d go and check on him, but my pride won’t allow me to get up. So, I sit staring at the walls hoping he’ll come home.
Eventually, the heat kicks on and I slowly begin to thaw. Come to think of it, that’s probably why Lark has been outside doing. I know the home is equipped with a backup generator.
The door opens with a bang and I quickly sit up, throwing the cover off me.
“Lark,” I breathe.
His eyes are panicked and wide, almost manic and I sit back down. What the hell is going on?
“Lark.” I try again, putting my hands up in surrender.
He blows out air from his nose forcefully and his skin reddens even more. “Did you do it to trap me?” he asks in an agitated tone.
My mouth drops open and my eyebrows furrow. What on God’s green earth is he talking about? “I—I’m sorry—what?”
“Trap. Me,” he says through his teeth in a staccato tone that grates my nerves.
I ball my fists and force myself to remain calm. “What are you talking about?”
He points toward the hallway and walks halfway there, stopping just before he hits our bedroom.
I spin around to watch him clip-clop his way his way there. His heavy feet only make me more confused. I lose sight of him and get up from the couch. When I make my way to the room, he’s in the bathroom. He’s got the medicine cabinet open and he’s staring at it intently. He doesn’t turn around, though I know for a fact he knows I’m right behind him.
In the weeks we’ve been here, I’ve managed to fill the small cabinet with all of our stuff. His shaving cream and my face wash. His aftershave and my perfume. I’ve migrated into his life but by the looks of it, he doesn’t seem happy.
“Where is it, Rowan?” he asks, turning around. His eyes find me but the normal cobalt color is gone. Now, his irises are ice blue. It almost hurts to look at him.
I silently flinch but stand my ground. I cross my arms and return his hard stare. “Where is what, Lark?” I spit his name and he snaps back slightly. Damn straight.
“Your birth control.”
I step back and put my hand on my stomach. My birth control pills? Why would he think I have birth control pills?
“Lark,” I begin in a warning tone. “Why are you looking for birth control?”
He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Oh, I don’t know, Rowan. Because we’ve been having sex for weeks now, without a condom, mind y
ou, and I’ve never once seen you take a damn pill. I’ve looked all over this house. And I don’t know…” He shakes his head, pulling at his hair. “Women keep that stuff in the bathroom, usually.” He looks to the side, unsure of the actuality of what he’s saying. He sounds like a crazy person.
My face scrunches and my eyes bulge. “Seriously?” I shout. “What the hell is your problem, Lark?”
It’s official. We’re fighting now, and instead of being hurt, I kind of want to punch him in the balls. Actually pull his balls away from his body and pound on them.
“Yes, seriously. How immature can you be?” He points angrily and I have the urge to swat it away. “Were you trying to trap me?”
My stomach aches. It feels like he just sucker punched me in the gut. “It takes two to tango, Mr. Dude-Who-Forgot-To-Put-On-A-Condom!” I yell, standing my ground but also wanting to vomit all over his boots.
His face turns red, again and he opens his mouth to retort but I turn in a huff and stomp to the guest room, slamming the door once I’m inside. I sit down in a flurry, no longer cold. As a matter of fact, I’m burning up.
I peel my clothes off one by one until I’m left with yoga pants and a tank top. Sitting back down on the bed, I force my nerves to calm down. Placing my hands on my thighs, I take deep, cleansing breaths.
Lark thinks I’d trap him into having a baby? He must really have a low opinion of me if he thinks I’d do something as desperate as that.
A quiet knock on the door sounds and I look at it as if it’ll catch on fire the moment I get up. I close my eyes and try to remember that I love him because he has strong convictions about things. And I hope he said those things to me out of worry.
My shoulders deflate and I get up and open the door. Lark’s eyes are kind and apologetic the moment I lay eyes on him, but it doesn’t stop my blood from boiling. I don’t say anything and step back as he follows me into the room. He sits on the chair in the corner and I take a seat on the bed. I don’t think sitting close to him would be a good idea at this very moment. I still want to ball punch him.
I sit cross-legged and clasp my hands together in my lap. I can’t make myself look at him.
I swallow and wait for him to talk. I really do try my hardest not to look at him, but I peek through my lashes and he’s got his bottom lip in his mouth and his angry eyes are now panicked. Serves him right.
Finally, after way too long he speaks. “I’m an idiot.”
I cackle and look at him square in the eyes. “Understatement.”
He gulps. “I have no better excuse than I have terrible cabin fever. I’m going out of my mind here. When I have time and nothing to do, I tend to go stir crazy.” He huffs. I narrow my eyes but don’t say anything. He tilts his head and his forehead crinkles. “Have—have you been taking birth control?” His voice is little and I know it’s killing him to ask.
“Good god, Lark.” I shake my head. “You’re asking me this now? We’ve been together more times than I can count and not because I can’t count that high.”
Lark grins and I fight my smile. I really have to stop making jokes during our fights.
“I know,” he agrees, defeated. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was angry and scared and nearly out of my mind. I know you wouldn’t knowingly trap me.”
“I wouldn’t,” I say immediately with conviction. “That hurt me, Lark.”
He nods. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t do that again.”
“I won’t. It’s just…” He sighs and combs his hand through his hair. It’s gotten much longer since we’ve been here, and it’s curling on the ends. He looks pained and a little embarrassed. I struggle with the want to comfort him. “Sometimes, I look in the mirror and worry that I might lunge at the man I see staring back at me. And if I do shatter the glass, I often wonder if I’ll pick up the shards and hurt myself with the wrecked pieces of my reflection. I don’t like who I am, sometimes. I don’t like that I get so upset. I don’t like that I was a liar for so damn long. I don’t like that I can’t control my instincts.” He’s breathing heavy and his hands shake as he drags them down his face. “How am I supposed to father a child when I don’t know what I’m doing in my life?”
I get up from my seat on the bed and sit next to him in the chair. “As long as there’s love, there’s hope.”
He shrugs his arm around my shoulders and I lay my head on his chest.
“I know,” he says, but I don’t know if he truly believes it.
“And for the record,” I clarify, “I have an IUD. I don’t have to take pills.”
His body stiffens. “I should have never said what I did.”
“But I want you to know,” I say. “I’m not pregnant and there’s a very slim chance that I would be until I have it removed.”
He breathes deep. “We should’ve had this conversation a while ago.”
“Ya think?” I deadpan. But I can’t be too angry with him. I didn’t bring it up, either.
“I don’t really think straight when it comes to you. But I should be a man and do things the right way instead of accusing you like I did. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”
“They say cabin fever is a bitch.” I rub his chest with my hand. “Stop apologizing. We’re both sorry and now we can move on.”
“I can do that.” He squeezes me tighter but before I can move around to kiss his lips, a loud bang in the kitchen causes us to jolt.
“What was that?” I dumbly ask.
“Stay here,” Lark instructs, moving to the door, pulling the gun out of the back of his pants. Sweet lord, I had no idea that’s where he kept that thing. He disappears and when I’m left alone, the house becomes alive. Cricks and creaks startle me and I move to the window, just to make sure no one is out there, but all I see is white. Don’t worry, Rowan. There’s someone out there watching. You’re safe. The pine trees sway in the frosty drizzled wind. The snow has begun to pick up again and it’s almost a complete white out. I’m incredibly thankful Lark fixed the heat.
A scuffle rattles the house. Sounds of pots and pans fall to the ground, followed by a glass shattering. I stand instantaneously, ready to go see what the problem is when a hand wraps around my mouth, pulling me back against the wall.
“Shh,” someone whispers in my ear. “Go quietly and we’ll let Lark live.”
My heart shatters and tears form in my eyes. I look to the door, but it’s quiet in the house now. I nod, letting the stranger know I’ll comply. He walks me toward the window, and with one hand, he opens it. Turning us around, someone meets us on the other side, and they grab me, pulling me awkwardly through the small opening. My back screams in pain. The latch caught my skin on my way out and I can feel the thick trickle of blood oozing down my back.
I involuntarily begin to shiver. My arms tingle from the harsh wind and my toes seize up the moment the snow touches them.
The two men carry me to a car. No—wait, it’s not a car. It’s some sort of snow vehicle. But it looks like a car, just inconspicuous enough to drive in the forest unseen.
They throw me in the backseat of the vehicle. My head hits the metal side panel and I remain horizontal, paralyzed by fear. Uncaring, they close the door, both men making themselves comfortable in the front seat. When the engine roars to life, I know it’s all over.
I know who they are.
I know why they took me.
And I know that I’m going somewhere terrifying.
I sit up; worried I might need to remember where we are going in case I’m ever able to escape. But I’m only fooling myself. I can’t see anything through the white haze of the blizzard.
Davis. Oh god, Davis has found me. I recognize him from the picture in Lark’s file. Shaved head and eyes frightening enough to cut holes with a stare. He’s difficult to forget. It doesn’t help that I’ve had nightmares about his man for weeks now. The man next to him in the passenger seat doesn’t look familiar, but they could easily be re
lated. His eyes cut to me in the rearview mirror but I look away.
They don’t say anything as we make our way in the woods and I’m almost comforted by it. It gives me time to think of a strategy.
My teeth begin to chatter because the cold has finally seeped to my bones but I refuse to look weak. I wrap my arms around myself and stare straight ahead, hoping to find something in the white vastness that looks at all familiar. But it’s all just one long blur.
It’s then that I feel a bit of confidence. I had forgot one important thing Lark taught me since we met months ago back in New York.
I have a secret pocket, and god, I hope they don’t find it.
“COMMAND. COME IN,” I urge in a panicked tone into my radio. Thank god it’s in one piece. The man who ambushed me in the kitchen punched me in the back of the head right before he bolted out of the back door and I fell hard.
They took her. Oh god, she’s gone. Perspiration begins to bead on my neck and I rub it with my shaky hand. “Command. Come. In,” I say again, getting more irritated. I run to the front of the house. It’s eerily silent and my panicked eyes search for someone…anyone. But they’re all gone.
Remnants of snow sludge fall slowly down the window in the living room and dread settles over me. I bolt on unsteady feet to watch as the snow settles onto the ground. I didn’t get up fast enough and I couldn’t catch them. Their vehicle is long gone. My head throbs. My heart aches.
I pull out my phone to turn on Rowan’s locater, but I’m slammed with the realization that the wireless is out. I was able to restart the generator earlier, but couldn’t get the signal back up. I attempt to make a hotspot with my phone, but I have no signal. No signal. How is that even possible? I angrily shove my phone back into my jacket pocket.
“Command. Come in now,” I say again, running out of the house into the garage. My feet hit in solid smacks as they connect with the snow-covered asphalt.
Where are the men we had stationed out here?
The shed isn’t but fifty feet from the house, but I’m out of breath by the time I reach the door. The wooden gates take effort to open, but I push them with force against the wall. They clang, echoing off the metal structure. It rings in my ears with deafening malevolence. I make my way to one of two snowmobiles and hop on, starting it. The engine comes to life and I immediately take off toward base where some of the guys should be.
The Truth of a Liar Page 19
