Page 4 of Axe-ing for Trouble
Amy.
No, not Amy.
Mila.
If that was even her real name.
My head was spinning. My small house was filled to the brim with my nosy family, and Ripley stood next to me, on high alert.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I hadn’t seen her in over a year, and now, as she stood in front of me, explaining herself, all I could think wastrouble.
My pulse pounded in my ears. This was bad. Dangerous.
Gus, who stood nearby, gave me a nod. That gave me a sliver of comfort. I could always depend on my older brother to take charge when things got difficult. He and I had worked together, keeping the family timber business going, for a decade, and we had developed our own shorthand.
Neither of us liked to talk more than necessary. So with one look, he understood what I needed and gathered up his wife and infant daughter.
“The kids need to get to bed, and we should give Jude some privacy,” he said.
Cole followed suit, collecting beer bottles and plates and taking them to the kitchen.
Finn and Noah did the same, clearing out the living room and packing up their kids. We’d been having family pizza night, a recent tradition.
It was one of my favorite pastimes. Cooking for my brothers and their families.
I hadn’t anticipated becoming an amateur pizza chef, but I’d loved the challenge. The endless testing and careful preparation soothed me. I thrived on finding the perfect hydration ratio for my dough and getting the wood-burning oven to the precise temperature to bake the pies to perfection.
It suited my need to keep my hands busy. Stretching and kneading dough was therapeutic, and it forced me to slow down a bit.
The company wasn’t terrible either. I lived alone up here on the mountain in my little house, just Ripley and me, and most of the time, it was exactly the way I wanted it.
But once in a while, it was nice to be surrounded by my family. When my house was filled with laughter and jokes, it reminded me that healing was possible. That with all the shit our father had put us through, we’d be okay. We could be a family, despite the lies and deceit and the way he tore us all apart.
We were moving forward, creating new bonds, welcoming kids and building lives. Even so, we were still living with our father’s crimes hanging over our heads. We’d spent the last year evolving and finding our way.
Now, a bleeding woman had appeared, and she was standing in my living room, telling me we were in more danger.
The woman who had haunted my dreams.
She’d been here more than a year ago, played a role in the best night of my life, and then poof, she’d disappeared, never to be heard from again.
Now she stood, trembling, breathing shallowly, bleeding, in my living room.
Her hair was different. Shorter and darker.
Her black leggings were torn, and the gash on her thigh looked quite deep.
Her T-shirt was streaked with dirt and blood, and her arms and face were covered in fresh bruises.
My gut dropped as every detail registered.
My mind spun and I clenched my fists. Caught unaware like this, by such a chilling sight, I felt out of control. My thoughts spiraled in a way I typically worked hard not to allow. How much danger was she in? Who had hurt her? What could I do to help?
Cole walked out with the rest of my brothers and their families but returned a moment later with a large duffel bag. He’d barely set it on the coffee table before Willa was tearing into it, producing bandages and gauze.
She led Amy… er… Mila to the couch and gently helped her sit on the ottoman. Then she kneeled in front of her and asked a slew of pragmatic medical questions. Thank God for Willa. She was cheery and professional, even while tending to the scared, bleeding woman.
“Jude, can you get a set of clean clothes?” Willa asked over her shoulder.
