Page 40 of Whispers of Helena
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, raking my hands through my hair as if I can untangle the knot that’s tightening in my chest. Frustration sears within, warring with a confusion so thick it threatens to choke me. My mind feels scrambled, my body at war with my heart. Helena is creeping into places that used to belong only to Caroline. The places I swore I’d never let anyone else occupy.
She’s not just occupying my thoughts; she’s threading herself into the fabric of my life, caring for my son. The thought tangles with grief, with guilt, with the strange tug that she’sfamiliar. It’s too much. I can’t breathe.
I force myself to my feet, each step feeling like trudging through a thick mire. The bathroom is cool, the tile an indifferent host to my chaos. Bending over the sink, I twist the cold tap, splashing my face over and over, willing the chill to cut through the noise in my head.
Gripping the counter, I finally look up, barely recognizing the man staring back at me in the mirror. The tired eyes, hollowed cheeks, and a lassitude that’s no longer just physical. Water drips from my chin, tiny rivulets tracing paths down to my bare chest.
Looking at myself, I know it’s coming to a head. The tensionthat’s been twisting its grip on me won’t loosen without a reckoning. At some point, I will have to make a choice.
Either I send Helena back to wherever she came from or I will let myself fall. Let myself submit to whatever fucking pull she has on my soul.
I hoistthe saddle onto Shadow’s back, cinching it tight as the leather creaks in the stillness of the barn. The packed saddlebags sit heavily at his side; a promise of the miles I intend to put between myself and this place. With a deep breath, I step toward the tack room for the last few supplies.
“Going somewhere?”
I halt mid-stride, hesitating before turning to see Eli looming in the stable entrance, his shadow cutting a sharp figure against the slant of sunlight behind him.
“I’ll just be gone a couple nights,” I say flatly. “Keep watch over things here.”
“Were you planning on telling anyone?”
My hands tighten around the bridle I’ve just grabbed. No, I hadn’t planned to tell a soul. I needed quiet. Space. I needed to feel the open land beneath Shadow’s hooves and the emptiness of the horizon stretching around me like a balm.
Eli steps closer, reading my silence like an open book. “Guess that answers my question.” He plants himself squarely in my path. “Silas, stop running. Stop filling empty spaces with empty actions. It doesn’t make you whole.”
“Why do you always talk in riddles?” I snap, my frustration flaring, though his words cut deeper than I’d like to admit.
“Because we avoid the word ‘death’ on this ranch like it’s a damn plague,” he fires back. “But you? You’re feeding the sickness. Bennett isn’t going to let up, and you damn well know it. You’ve already danced close enough to the edge. Maybe take it as a sign.”
His honest words shatter a memory I've tried hard to conceal.The standoff with Bennett. Flashes of his sneer, the cold glint of the revolver, the jarring bark of a shot fired into the night. Helena’s hands steady as she cleaned the wound, her quiet presence as grounding as the earth itself.
“Bennett can wait,” I say, shaking the memory off. “I just need to be out on the land right now.”
“So it’s Helena you’re running from,” he counters, the accusation honed with certainty. “That was my second guess.”
I brush past him toward Shadow’s stall, but he moves to block me, his hand coming up like a shield. “She’s a good woman, Silas. And you’re either too blind or too scared to see it.”
“I don’t doubt that, Eli,” I say, my jaw tightening.
His gaze locks on mine, unflinching, searching. “Grief has its time, Silas. But that time’s over. Open your damn eyes before you lose more than you realize you have.”
“My eyes are open, and I see just fine,” I grit out. “Now move. I want to be out on the trail before noon.”
Eli studies me a moment longer, a tension hanging between us that feels like it might snap. Finally, he steps aside, but not without a parting shot.
“You’re a fool, Silas.”
The words strike like a blade—cold and unforgiving. He turns on his heel and walks away, his boots echoing against the barn floor.
I stand frozen, listening to his fading steps, my hand resting on Shadow’s mane as I swallow against the bitterness rising in my throat. Fool or not, I’ve made my choice. And I’ll ride until the land swallows me whole.
A Facade
Helena
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Matthew 11:28
