Page 29 of Auctioned to the Lumberjacks (Auctioned)

The things Ethan said and their impact on Skye, but also her terrified response to the sound of rustling before we even knew it was Ethan. Her reaction was extreme and way outside what I would expect from someone who wasn’t running and hiding from someone or something.

“Ethan said some fucked up things, but he was drunk.”

Skye’s hand grips at Finn’s shirt. She heard me but she’s still scared.

“It’s nothing to do with you, okay? He’s angry with me, and he found a way to hit me where it hurts.”

She turns her head slightly, her eyes focusing on mine, questioning.

“He knew coming here and talking about you would make me angry.”

“Why?” she says.

“Because I don’t accept anyone talking about someone…” I pause as I stumble over how to articulate what she is to me. Someone I own? That sounds fucked up, and she’s more than that. Someone I care about? Care seems like a pathetic word, and Skye’s only been here five minutes, but her sweetness and vulnerability have already found their way inside me, cracking resolve. “Someone I have a responsibility for,” I finish.

She blinks, then stares at the floor.

“We’ve given him a warning. He won’t be coming back.”

“I’ll be here alone.”

“And he’ll be at work.”

Finn’s expression shows his worry, but Skye doesn’t see it. I have to ensure my own face remains impassive. “He’s angry with me, Skye.”

“Why?”

I don’t want to tell her the reason. I don’t want to open up that old wound for it to bleed out all over her, but I will so she’ll understand. “Because I was responsible for his brother’s death.”

“It was an accident,” Finn quickly interjects.

Skye’s eyes never leave mine, and it feels like she’s peeling up my skin and peering underneath for the truth at the heart of me. It’s time to turn this around.

“I need to ask you something, Skye.”

She stiffens slightly, and Finn’s hand slides up her arm, keeping her close. “I saw your reaction to the possibility of someone being outside the studio. What are you running from? Because I know you’re running from something.”

“It’s nothing,” she whispers and then closes her eyes.

I could probe for more information. I could force Skye to confess, but what good would that do? As much as it frustrates me, we must work to earn her trust, and that will take time.

11

JACK

INTO THE DARKNESS

I’m enveloped in darkness as the final traces of glowing embers fade, leaving nothing but a dying heat and lingering smoke. I inhale deeply and close my dry, gritty eyes. I’m so tired that my bones ache, and my head pounds in the rhythm of my heart.

The curse of insomnia has plagued my life for so damn long that I feel like the walking dead half the time. I surrender to the support of the chair I’ve tried to make myself comfortable in, one that I built with my own hands from the trees that I owe my life to. But there is nothing comfortable about sitting upright in the early hours of the morning. It is an agonizing torture, a punishment for all the wrongs I’ve committed.

Is it the deep-rooted loathing that grips me around the throat in a vice-like grip that prevents my mind from succumbing to a deep and refreshing sleep? The relentless memories of burning pain and shame, helplessness and disappointment? I flinch at the sudden recall of the power of a single set of approaching footsteps, of how I used to crouch in my closet and make myself as tiny as possible and close my eyes, hoping that my stepfather wouldn’t see me.

Damn that goddamn son of a bitch.

My pulse quickens as I imagine how it would feel to beat him as he beat me, ruining his life like he did mine. One day, I’ll find him and make him pay.

The constant pressure at the yard doesn’t help. I’ve had to live with being wired and on high alert for more years than I care to remember.

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