by Debra Kayn
She held on to the railing. Her life crumbled more each day, and there was nothing she could do to put herself back together. She didn't belong here.
In the distance, a bellow came from the woods. She stepped back and collided with an immovable object. She flinched, turning, and strong hands grabbed her. Screaming, she ducked her head.
"Whoa. It's me, Katelynn." Quint let go of her. "It's only me."
She gasped for breath, having the rush of fear take over her body. "Th-there's something out there, in the woods."
"I heard." He pushed her hair out of her face. "It's just a moose."
"A moose?" Her spine curved and her chest expanded allowing air into her lungs. "Those don't stalk and kill people, right?"
"This time of year, they'll stay away from you." He tilted his head, studying her. "Are you okay now?"
She nodded, lying to him. "Just out of sorts."
"I can stay out here with you if it'll help."
"I'm going to go in and go to bed." She stepped toward the door and stopped. "Thank you," she whispered.
He remained standing on the porch. She slipped inside and went to the bedroom, shutting herself inside. Not even bothering to remove the clothes Quint gave her to wear, she fell into the bed and hugged the pillow.
She couldn't cry. She couldn't talk. She couldn't do anything. Maybe losing her mind would be the best thing for her if it brought a second of relief.
Chapter 11
"Katelynn?"
She rolled over in bed and stared at the ceiling. What did Quint want now?
"Hey, Katelynn?" called Quint, louder and closer.
She sat up in bed. It'd been a week—she rubbed her hands over her face—no, three weeks since she killed Miller.
"Kate—" He pushed the door all the way open. "Put your shoes on." His gaze lowered to her breasts. "Grab one of my sweatshirts, too."
"Why?" She continued sitting on the bed.
It was already dark outside. She'd stayed up through dinner, but he'd left, and there was nothing to do, and sleeping let her escape. The only place she wanted to go tonight was back to bed.
"It's the Fourth of July." He knocked his knuckles against the door. "Get going, and you can watch the fireworks with me."
"I don't like fireworks." She yawned.
He lowered his brows. "Then, hate them outside. Let's go."
"You go." She leaned to the side and plopped her head on the pillow. "Have fun."
"You've slept enough." He stalked over to the bed and pulled her into a sitting position. "You're going to go."
His attempt at bossing her around failed to get her moving. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep. Only then could she block out the memory of the knife sliding into Cord.
Quint lifted her foot. She stared at the top of his head as he tugged on her shoes and laced them. Why would he care if she watched the fireworks?
He should be happy to have time away from her. If he wasn't working in the campground, he was in the cabin or working around the yard. She'd even screwed up his social life.
Quint grabbed her hands and lifted her to her feet. "Let's go."
Tired of arguing with him. Tired of having to get up every day and eat the three meals Quint forced her to consume. Tired of being tired, she followed him to the bathroom and went inside and used the toilet. When she finished, she walked with him out to the porch.
She wanted to groan. He'd parked his ATV by the steps. She didn't want to ride.
"Shit," he mumbled, letting go of her hand. "I'll be right back."
He went into the house. Blocked from going back inside and crawling into bed, she obediently waited for him.
Quint returned to her and slid a sweatshirt over her head. She automatically thrust her arms through the sleeves.
"It's not cold," she said.
"It will be." He led her down the steps and got on the quad. "Hop on behind me."
Resigned to go with him, she climbed onto the back of the seat and wrapped her arms around his waist. Over the last several weeks, he'd made her go with him several times as he made the rounds at the campground, checking in with the guests, taking care of office duties, and even when he went fishing early one morning. She couldn't understand why he'd want her to go with him.
She made bad company.
Lately, she couldn't even gather enough energy to care about what she looked like or if she put any food inside her. She felt the same hollowness inside of her whether she expended the strength to take care of herself or not.
Quint made a U-turn in the yard and headed to the back of the cabin. She spotted an opening to a trail under a pine tree. Forced to hold on tighter over the bumpy path, she pressed against his back as the front of the ATV tilted higher as they gained altitude.
Her teeth rattled. Tense and afraid she'd fall off if she tried to ask him where he was going, she held on and pressed her cheek against the back of his shoulder. Her weakness left her shaking. She hadn't done anything physical since...since she'd killed Cord.
Nauseous, she closed her eyes, refusing to look in the beam of light that lit up the side of the mountain. She didn't need to see the side of the trail drop away or how high they were above the cabin.
Cool air rushed over her face. Thankful for the change in temperature, she swallowed, relieved at the freshness calming her stomach. She was tired of throwing up.
Her stomach became a ball of knots that twisted and spasmed any time she was awake.
Quint sped up, slowed down, and navigated the winding trail. The pressure he used to get her on the ATV and to take her high up on the mountain would've normally worried her. Except, if he'd wanted to harm her, he could've done something a thousand times since she started staying with him.
Lulled into accepting the ride, she kept her gaze off to the side and stared into the dark. By the time Quint stopped and turned off the quad, her butt was numb and vibrating on its own.
Quint's body straightened. "Go ahead and slide off."
She wiggled her way to the edge of the seat until her foot touched the ground. Keeping her hand on the plastic fender, she peered around in the dark and caught movement not far from them.
"Where are we?" she asked quietly.
"Top of the mountain. Will, Mark, Anders, and his live-in girlfriend are here, too." Quint put his hand on her back. "You'll like Iliana. She's about your age, I think."
She stopped walking. "What are we doing here?" she whispered.
"I told you, we're going to watch fireworks."
"Why?" Celebrating after murdering someone seemed like bad karma.
"Why not?" His rough voice rolled through her, leaving her shivering.
Straining to see him in the dark, she wanted to tell him that coming here and joining the others was too much. She wasn't up to making nice with other people.
"I don't know what to say to them." She turned her head and peered at the group in the dark. "I don't belong here."
"Sure you do." He led her to the others, ignoring her desire to go back to the cabin and hide in bed.
"Took you long enough." Mark passed Quint a can and held one out to Katelynn. "Do you want a beer?"
She shook her head. "I don't drink alcohol."
"We've got Pepsi." Will held up a six-pack from the cooler on the back of an ATV.
"No, thank you." She licked her dry lips and looked up at Quint.
Uncomfortable and unsure of how to interact with them all, knowing they knew what she'd done, she wanted to go back to the cabin. The men were there the night she'd run to Quint for help with Cord. They were a part of hiding his body. They knew what she'd done. And, like Quint, they acted as if everything was normal.
It was not normal.
Quint moved his hand up her back and massaged the tension in her shoulders. "Katelynn, this is Iliana."
Obligated to look around him and meet the other woman, she forced a smile. The muscles in her face overtaxed from the movement, she trembled. In broad dayligh
t, she'd look fake and unapproachable.
"It's nice to meet you," she said, leaning against Quint's side. She was so not up for this.
"You, too." Iliana flashed a gorgeous white grin in the dark.
Katelynn ran her tongue over the space between her front teeth. Wanting to shrink away into the night to hide her less-than-perfect looks, she couldn't even remember if she had brushed her hair today.
"I was so happy for Quint when Anders told me about you moving in with him." Iliana reached out for Anders and grabbed his hand, bringing him into the conversation. "You'll both have to come over to the Lair and have dinner with us soon. We live right over the peak on the Montana side of the Bitterroots."
Caught raising his beer to his lips, Quint paused. "Iliana also sings at Anders' Lair on the weekends."
Oh, God, a singer, too? She wanted the mountain to cave in and swallow her up.
"That's...great," she said quietly, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Iliana obviously hadn't been told the truth about her and Quint's relationship, so that meant Anders was lying to the woman he loved.
Quint turned and lowered his head. "I'll explain later," he whispered against her ear.
The warmth of his breath tickled. She shivered and remained silent.
"Are you from around here?" asked Iliana.
"Uh, no." She swallowed. "I'm from Vancouver. Um, Washington, not Canada."
Quint's hand stilled on her neck. Her heart raced. Should she not have mentioned where she used to live?
"Living the mountain life must be a huge change for you." Iliana laughed. "I'm from Missoula and you'd think living in the mountains in my home state wouldn't come with changes, but it's such a slower pace of life in the Bitterroots."
She hadn't met any people, until staying with Quint. The last six months were spent at Cord's house, and after meeting his brother, she had no desire to know anyone else living in the mountains.
"Hey, the fireworks are starting," said Mark.
Quint walked her toward the edge of the peak. Down in the distant valley, multicolored lights shot up in the air. At their advantage point, the fireworks were below them and silent.
Another spot below exploded in sparks and strobes. Quint pulled her closer. "Keep watching. More people will start setting them off."
"Is that a town down there?" she asked.
"Nope, just people at the base of the mountain shooting them off." He pointed out into the darkness. "It's illegal to shoot them off up here—Federal land, so it's the owners of the private properties scattered in the foothills putting on the show."
More aerial sparks lit up the air below them. She'd never seen fireworks from above before.
Crossing her arms, she stared out into the night. Surprised that her equilibrium wasn't thrown off from the height and standing next to the edge. She could imagine during the daytime, being able to see the few hundred feet drop would make her woozy. With Quint beside her, she was comfortable viewing the fireworks.
Somewhere down there, Cord used to live. She inhaled swiftly, looking for Interstate 90 in the dark, trying to map out the direction to his house.
"What's the matter?" asked Quint.
She shook her head. When she'd left and found the campground, she hadn't traveled very far.
"Hey?" He moved behind her and put his arms around her waist. "You're cold?"
Until he'd asked, she never realized she was shaking. It was too soon to act like everything was normal and hang out with his friends. Her whole life had become a lie. The people on the mountain were strangers to her.
She'd leave soon and go somewhere else, but her new life would also become fake. To protect herself and Quint, she would never have anyone to confide in. She'd live a secret life until she died.
He continued holding her, and for once, she was thankful for the added strength. She liked the cocoon he'd put around her. There was nothing sexual or flirty about him hugging her from behind. He was doing what he promised—protecting and supporting her.
She glanced beside her and found Anders holding Iliana in the same way. Her nipples peaked, and she shivered. Maybe it was wrong that she and Quint pretended to be together.
Shrugging away from him, she stepped forward to get out of his embrace, and he grabbed her hips. "Whoa. It's dark. The edge of the mountain is in front of you."
"I need to take a walk." She turned around and stepped in the other direction.
He let her go. Cold without his body heat around her, she pulled the sleeves of the sweatshirt over her hands and balled her fists. She stumbled awkwardly over the uneven ground as small bushes brushed against her jeans. It would be better for her and everyone else if she left.
Except, she had no money.
Stopping, she peered into the darkness. The glow of the moon hinted at trees, a trail, rocks in front of her. She had no idea where she was going or if she could safely keep walking.
"Katelynn?" said Quint.
She turned around. "I need to leave."
"You want to skip the fireworks?"
"I want to leave the mountain. I want to leave Idaho." She trembled, panic rising. "I don't care where I go, I just need to get out of here."
After wasting three weeks, unable to pull herself out of her depression, the anxiety over killing Cord pushed her to move. She needed to run. Fast.
Chapter 12
"No, really. I don't drink." Katelynn waved off the beer Quint tried to hand her.
He put the can back in the fridge and returned to the living room. When she asked to get off the mountain, he'd brought her back down to the cabin.
He sat beside her. "Not that there's anything wrong with not drinking but is it because you don't like alcohol or—?"
"I grew up with my stepdad and mom drinking all the time." She sat on the edge of the couch, bouncing the heels of her feet on the floor. "I don't like what it does to people."
"Were they mean drunks?" He put the can between his legs.
"Distant, uninvolved, unfeeling, passive-aggressive. My mom was the worst. Everything was my fault, and she liked to play head games. For my stepdad, alcohol let him check out." She shrugged. "I'm sure being married to my mother, his drinking was a way of coping. If I would've stayed living with them, I probably would've been a drunk, too. My mother checked out of my life a long time ago. I left when I was seventeen, after I graduated high school, and cut them out of my life. I ran into her about three years ago. She looked me in the eyes and didn't even recognize me...or chose to ignore that I was her daughter."
He grunted, unable to understand anyone's family dynamics. To him, having a dysfunctional family was better than having none at all.
Through the years at the campground, he'd seen firsthand the good, the bad, and the ugly. None of his exposure convinced him that being alone was better. If he had one person, he wouldn't be alone.
Too many people never tried hard enough to keep the people around them in their life. But who was he to disagree with Katelynn? Maybe the pain of her childhood went further than she was capable of dealing with. Perhaps she deserved better than what she'd received.
Hell, he knew the fear and pain of living through something unimaginable, and he'd done the same—he ran the first chance he got.
"On the mountain, you said you wanted to leave. Was that you panicking or is there something you need to do?" he asked.
Her eyes rounded. "I don't panic."
She'd slept her way through her days and nights since she killed Miller. Each morning, he made sure she got out of bed because if he let her sleep, he'd find her still in bed when he came home for lunch, and again when his workday was over. He failed to get her interested in taking care of herself, and he'd forced her to eat, take a shower, and go through the motions.
During that time, she kept to herself and only talked to him when he demanded an answer.
He found himself wanting to know more about her and what caused the hopelessness inside of her—besides the situati
on. The way she closed herself off, only depending on herself, came from self-protection. A method he used himself. He wanted to know what caused that defensive mode she lived in.
"I don't belong here." She shook her head as if she needed to stop herself from talking. Then, she continued. "If what happened...hadn't happened, I never would've talked to you past checking into the campground. You never would've invited me into your home. Your friends wouldn't spend time with me. You wouldn't be spending money on feeding me. It's my fault that we're here together. I should never have run to the office for help. I should never have stopped at the campground. I should've kept going and then hitched a ride all the way back to Vancouver."
Imagining her out there alone bothered him. "I'm glad you stopped here, and when you needed help, you came to me."
"How can you say that?" Her lips pinched together.
"Katelynn." He exhaled in acceptance. "I'm damn glad you had a knife in that trailer. If you hadn't, it could've been you that was killed. Cord Miller has a reputation on the mountain and has seen a lot of trouble in his life. Everyone around here knows he has a temper. He's even been in jail a few times because he talks with his fists."
"He never hit me before that night." She looked away. "I was leaving him because he treated me like a dog. Worse, because I would never treat an animal that way."
He flinched at the mention of dogs. "I'm not questioning what he put you through."
"I know," she said quietly. "I just feel like I need to tell someone what it was like living with him."
"I'll listen."
She stood from the couch and hugged her middle. He leaned back as she paced the room. Talking wasn't one of his strengths.
"Before I moved here, Cord was different. Online, I mean." She clamped her lips together and frowned. "He listened, too. He seemed to care about me. I thought I was falling in love with him. That's stupid, I know. How can you really know someone online?"
