CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

STRANGE HOW LONELINESS COULD creep from nowhere.

It wasn’t as if I wasn’t used to sleeping alone at night. I’d lived alone ever since I moved out of my mother’s place. Most of the time, I liked the independence. I enjoyed never having to ask a partner’s permission to jump out of bed at midnight and go hunt a boulder. I didn’t have to bother with a boyfriend’s hurt feelings, trying to explain how I’d rather spend the weekend climbing a lump of granite than spend it with him. I’d even decided against roommates as I wanted the freedom to do my video editing until dawn without disturbing anyone.

Yet...here I am.

In a house shared with a man I’m in love with, and I’m lonelier than I’ve ever been.

Sighing, I stared at the dark sky with its wispy silver clouds hiding the moon and stars, grateful that the conservatory roof kept the chill at bay. I doubted it was much warmer inside than out, seeing as no heating had been turned on, but it still gave me comfort to know I was in a house and not exposed to the elements that could turn so quickly.

I didn’t know what the time was, but I guessed it was close to one in the morning.

I ought to be fast asleep. After the stress of sex with Kas in the garden, the panic of his memory loss, and the never-ending lugging of firewood, every part of me was exhausted.

I could barely feel my fingers after they’d been used to grab, carry, and stack rows upon rows of kindling and logs. We’d barely made a dent in the quantity required for a full season of snow. It would take days of solid labor to gather what was needed. I thought I was fit and strong. However, it turned out that lugging wood was an entirely different workout from climbing.

It hadn’t helped that Kas didn’t pay any attention to me. He flat-out ignored me when I reminded him not to do so much with his broken arm. He barely grunted at me as we hunted through the forest for fallen branches, dragging longer ones back to hack with the ax and gathering armfuls of smaller ones, perfect for starting a flame.

Once the sun sank out of the sky, and it grew too dark to see in the forest, he grudgingly called it a day. We walked side by side, silent and highly aware of each other as we washed our hands, stood awkwardly in the kitchen, and tried to decide what to do next.

Kas had looked as if he’d pass out on the spot. His skin had an unnatural grayness, his eyes were bracketed with pain, and he breathed heavily even though we were no longer bending and stacking firewood.

I’d offered to cook. I’d braced myself for permission to harvest a few veggies to make something decent to fill our empty stomachs. His eyes had narrowed, hinting he might have forgotten about our bath, but he hadn’t forgotten my lack of rationing or respect when it came to survival.

He’d stormed outside without a word.

He’d returned with a few carrots, a couple of potatoes, and grabbed half the cabbage that was left in the fridge.

I’d kept him company while he sliced the produce, grabbed a big pot, and placed all of it on the stove. The entire time he’d cooked, I’d stood quietly beside him. I couldn’t stop watching how capable he was, how familiar with the chore of feeding himself.

It didn’t matter that he was so capable at cooking because he didn’t have a choice. He’d wanted to survive. Therefore, he’d had to learn how. He’d had no one else. No help gathering firewood, no help cleaning this giant place, no one to turn to at night when his dreams wrenched him awake with torment.

Hadn’t I wanted a man who didn’t rely on a woman to keep him alive? A man who wasn’t afraid to do what was necessary?

I’d shivered with desire as his strong hands wielded knives and dishes. I’d sunk into a strange kind of awe, my chest swelling with a total sense of domestic contentedness.

Kassen Sands was literally everything I’d written on that internet dating profile. He was rugged and masculine but was also skilled at making a life out of nothing and no one. He was aggressive and possessive, but beneath the tangled vines of his past, he was caring and kind.

I had no doubt, if he could open himself up to me, without his nightmares and concussion snatching him back, he would be loving, protective, and sweet.

Yes, sweet.

One hundred percent, he’d be the sweetest, kindest man I’d ever met.

I’d almost swooned in the kitchen while he was completely unaware of my further tripping into feelings. I’d itched with an almost manic desperation to make him see me. To help break him free and talk because if I could—if I could show him how to be happy—he would be my best friend, life partner, and soul mate.

And that’d hurt.

Watching him cook with his jaw clenched as if to stop himself from talking to me and his body language stiff and threatening, I’d made a promise not to push. Not to ask the many, many questions I had. Not to rattle off about my own life, wanting him to know me in return.

I’d let silence cushion the strained connection between us as he tipped water into the well-cooked veggies and smashed it all together, forming a hearty soup, working as fast as he could in case the power went out.

When he’d handed me a bowl full of delicious, comforting food, I’d wanted to throw my arms around him. To kiss him. To show him just how grateful I was, regardless of how agonizing it’d been in the garden. How much my body still wanted his, an orgasm still unfinished, my skin humming to connect again.

Having the man I was in love with suddenly vanish right before my eyes was a gut-wrenching experience. His cock still inside me, his arms still holding me close, yet nothing in his stare. No recognition. No emotion. Just emptiness, followed by him staggering away from me, dropping me to my feet, and our bodies being torn apart, all thanks to his splintered mind.

Giving me a small smile, Kas had led me out of the kitchen to the dining room.

It’d felt strange eating at the large table still set for a party of monsters. The polished knives and forks glinted, placemats with their leather and ribbon were pristine.

There’d been no salt or pepper, no butter or other condiments to increase the flavor of the basic soup he’d made, but it’d been the best meal I’d had since arriving here. Mainly because Kas ate with me, silent and wary, but at least he stayed by my side.

Eating our meal in the extravagant dining room had allowed my mind to run wild with ghosts of the past. I studied the empty walls where mirrors used to sit, ready to refract the light cast by a few bulbs that hadn’t burned out in the chandelier above the table. Light bounced off the crystal bumblebee napkin holders, and the scent of bygone dinners seemed to swirl around us.

It truly was a decadent mansion; if only it hadn’t kept children trapped and allowed such sick monstrosities to take place.

Kas finished his dinner before me. He’d swooped to his feet, bowed stiffly, and spoke more words than he had all day. “Thank you for your help...with the wood.” He raked a hand through his unruly, long hair, keeping his eyes anywhere but on mine. I hated that he’d pulled away again. I wanted to go back to the garden where something had built inside him. Something had unfurled between us. A decision had been made in his heart.

The sex between us had been wild and real. I’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted me. I’d been prepared to give him everything, but then his mind had gone and ruined what could’ve been. Again.

I pushed my empty bowl away and smiled up at him, weary from physical labor but also drained from emotional trauma. “You’re welcome.” It took so much control not to grab his wrists and force him to stay with me. To tell him how I felt, what I would do for him, that he only had to drop his guard and we could be together.

But I held my tongue because as much as I didn’t want to admit it, having him switch from kissing me with passion, thrusting into me with need, to a man who didn’t see me, hear me, feel me, had reminded me that for all my daydreaming of domestication and futures, he was still unsafe.

I still risked my life living with him.

I still hadn’t freed him from his past.

Inhaling heavily, he’d looked around the room as if something would give him whatever answers he was looking for. Goosebumps had spread down my back, wondering if he’d been thinking of us just as I had. Had he come to the conclusion that I was trustworthy? That I was strong enough? Was he ready to talk to me? Could we possibly spend the evening together like any other couple, cuddled by a fire, enjoying each other’s company, before slipping into bed together?

Even as such fantasies filled my head, his gaze landed on mine and shot them dead. He flinched, unable to hide the anguish inside him, the confliction, the toppling mess of his psyche. “You’re...you’re no longer chained to me.”

I glanced down at the chain I’d wrapped around my ankle, a link-snake that formed a chunky anklet. My head tipped up as I glanced at his waist where I knew the other half of our broken chain remained locked around him, the small length tucked in his back pocket. “No, I’m not.”

He stiffened. “Will you leave? Tonight?”

My back straightened into steel. “You honestly have to ask that question?”

He shrugged, dropping his stare again. His usual guarded personality had dimmed. I didn’t know if it was from the firewood chores draining him of whatever health he’d regained or if whatever had happened between us in the gardens was worse than I realized. Either way, he was...subdued.

Quiet.

It made me afraid.

Standing, I reached for him. “Kas...please. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

He stepped out of my reach. “You should leave. While the weather still holds.”

I reared back, pain slapping into my heart as real as if his palm had just struck my cheek. “It wasn’t the chain keeping me here. We both know that. I thought we’d both realized I stopped looking for a way to get free a while ago.”

He sniffed, his scruff soaking up the meager light, his shadowed eyes darker and complex. “All the same, if you leave in the night, I’ll-I’ll understand.” He cleared his throat. “Whatever promises you made me, consider them broken.”

“Are you talking about the promise I made to help you prepare for winter or the one where I promised to remember what you forget?”

His nostrils flared as he backed toward the door. “Both. You’re released from both.”

My hands balled into fists. “And if I don’t want to be released? If I want to stay here and help you? If I’m prepared to stay during the winter? If I’m ready to jot down everything that we do and keep a diary on every interaction we share, what then?”

“Then I’d say you sound as if you need a new hobby. You should go home. Back to the family you keep saying is missing you.”

It took a few seconds to get my temper under control. I inhaled and exhaled, schooling my tone into something that wouldn’t end in a fight. “I made the choice to stay, Kas. In the bath, I told you I chose you over my brother.”

His eyes flared, followed by a bolt of hunger and pure concentrated need.

My body reacted to his.

The air positively sparked as if candles sprung to life between us.

But then he shut it all down again.

He shook his head as if he couldn’t bear the thought that I’d put him first. As if he wasn’t used to such a thing. As if he felt guilty that he’d become so, so important to me.

“Don’t,” he whispered, taking another step toward the door. “Don’t put me first.”

I followed him. “Why? Why shouldn’t I? I promised you I’d help you get better.”

His hand struck up, barring me from chasing any further. “I’ve changed my mind.” His face twisted as if he swallowed something painful, as if his heart had forgotten how to beat. Rubbing his chest, he growled, “I think it’s best if you go. I don’t need your help anymore.”

Without waiting for me to reply, he vanished into the darkness of the foyer, disappearing into a mansion that’d watched too many children been broken down, twisted up, and spat out into despair.

I swayed to go after him.

I locked my knees and forbade it.

I’d let him go, nursing the new wounds he’d given me, dragging myself to the bathroom where I’d endured an icy shower. I hadn’t cried while I dressed in a powder-blue nightgown with a lace collar and spaghetti straps. I didn’t give in to the pressure as I shrugged into my hoodie and crawled under my stolen blankets to lay staring at the stars.

And even now, even with hours between this moment and that, I still refused to give in to the crush of agony that Kas was so skilled at delivering.

I sighed for the millionth time.

Enough, Gem.

Just...enough.

I sat up.

On nights like this at home, I’d get up and either scroll through some climbing forums or go for a climb. I had a twenty-four-hour pass to my local bouldering gym. I’d often haunt the slabs and be found repeating routes at six in the morning when other people would arrive for a session.

God, I want to climb.

I tipped my head back and looked once more at the sky. A little overcast but no rain. It would be a perfect night for a workout. I could slip into my gear and grab my climbing shoes and find something in which to take out my loneliness.

The urge to go rushed through me.

Kas wanted me to leave?

Maybe he was right.

Perhaps, I should leave for the night. Regardless that my body was exhausted from firewood gathering, I had a well of nervousness and unsatisfied desire.

A small climb, even just halfway up the cliff, would do wonders for my peace of mind.

Do it.

Scooting out of the blankets, I darted through the games room and into the library. There, I found my rucksack sitting by the desk. The food and chocolate bars remained in the downstairs closet, but my ropes, quickdraws, and other equipment had never been unpacked.

Kneeling beside it, I unzipped the heavy bag and rifled through my gear.

The instant my fingers touched the nylon rope and the cool metal of the carabiners, my heart panged for an easier existence. Homesickness filled me, and tears pricked my eyes.

The dry smell of chalk and the slight whiff of my climbing shoes brought back so many memories of Joshua and me arguing late at night. How he called me reckless when I regaled tales of almost tumbling off an 8A boulder with no crash mat. Of my mother curling her nose with confusion as I tried to show her how my new harness worked. Of Katie, my closest friend, when we challenged each other to speed climbing and both came in woefully slow.

I sat back on my heels, struggling not to cry.

What were they doing now?

Was anyone still looking for me?

Where was Josh? Did he gather a search party, or was he too used to his wild sister disappearing on some rock expedition, only to pop back up online with a new video, perfectly fine?

I was guilty of not corresponding very well when I was on the road.

Once, I’d gone two weeks without messaging anyone. Too caught up in the present moment, camping at the base of a tall cliff, editing my videos by solar charger at night, and generally being selfish with my time, cutting everyone out until I was ready to re-enter society.

Oh, God.

I hugged the sudden cramp in my belly.

Maybe that was why no helicopters had scanned the area or why no hint of a rescue party had appeared. Maybe Joshua had just rolled his eyes at my vanishing act—conditioned to expect me to randomly appear on his doorstep, covered in mud, tired from living in a tent, gushing with stories of stone that he couldn’t care less about.

He probably thought I would’ve activated my locator beacon if I was in any real danger. The very same beacon he’d watched me buy when we’d gone shopping together. He’d listened to the same lesson I had as the shopkeeper told me how to use it, when to activate it, and what to do if I ever needed help.

Perhaps I’d been a product of my own capabilities, just like Kas.

I’d bought all the gear and invested in all the skills, convincing those around me that I was perfectly safe and not to worry. Now I’d been left to my own devices, just like I’d wanted. Just like Kas had been forgotten by those he’d fought to save. Hadn’t he taught those he loved that he was strong enough to commit murder, to bury bodies, and to do the unthinkable to get them out? His family wouldn’t have viewed him as a boy who needed caring for but a hero who was invincible.

Perhaps that was why they never came back for him? Believing he’d already left and was achieving the impossible somewhere, not needing them to have his back.

Sucking in a shaky breath, I reached for my video recorder, tucked up safe in a fleece at the bottom of my bag.

The urge to climb vanished beneath a crippling urgency to see my brother. To hear him. To remind myself that I was loved, even if I currently lived with a man determined to prove otherwise.

Turning on the recorder, I skimmed through the data currently saved on the memory card. A few climbs were on there, along with a couple of shots of Katie as I taught her a higher grade.

Ah, there.

Taken a few months ago at my home.

A rare afternoon when Josh and my mother had popped round. I’d been excited and nervous to host my family. I’d cleaned my house until everything sparkled. I’d bought a cake mix and done my best to have perfect cupcakes ready for when they arrived.

It hadn’t quite gone to plan.

A small smile tugged my lips as I pressed play and sat cross-legged on the floor. It’d been a spur-of-the-moment video. My recorder had been next to me in the kitchen when they’d arrived, and I’d had a sudden urge to immortalize my crazy, joking brother before he got married, grew serious, and stopped teasing me.

“Hey, my favorite Gemstone, what’s up?” Joshua strode through my front door without knocking. He sniffed the air like a bloodhound. “Ohhh, do I smell sugar?”

“You do indeed, and they’re not ready yet, so stay out of my kitchen.” My voice sailed through the air, my hands keeping the video steady on his face.

He narrowed his matching hazel eyes, a glint appearing. “Not allowed in your kitchen, you say?” He stalked me, his arms bent in front of him and hands forming into claws. “You should know by now not to tempt me with rules. I just have to break them.”

The video jiggled as I backed up, my laugh pure and simple. “Oh no, you don’t, Joshykins.”

His nose wrinkled. “You know I hate that nickname.”

“Too bad.”

“I’m gonna get you.”

“Don’t you dare. Stay back.”

He roared like a T-Rex, waving his arms around like an idiot. “Fear me, pathetic human.”

“Get a grip.” I snickered. “Mom!” My mother entered my home, swinging off her handbag and placing it on the side table by the door. “Tell him to stop being a douche.”

“Rarrrrrr!” Josh gnashed his teeth together.

My mother rolled her eyes. “Gosh, you two can never just be normal together, can you?”

“Nope!” My brother winked before turning back toward me with an annoying smirk. “Get running, Gemstone.”

“You’ll ruin my cupcakes!”

Joshua snarled like a dinosaur again and launched himself at me.