Page 23 of Auctioned to the Lumberjacks (Auctioned)

Tears drop from my eyes, staining my pajamas with dark spots before I can swipe them away. My empty breasts ache for my baby, making me curl in on myself.

I stare at the phone, waiting for Shona’s reply, but nothing comes.

Have I made a mistake that will put my life in danger again? Have I risked the three lumberjacks who are my ticket to freedom once a year of contractual obligations is over?

You should read the contract, West urged me.

So, instead of focusing on a black screen or trying in vain to sleep, I find the contract and read it from beginning to end.

Shona doesn’t reply.

So, now I’m not only worried about Hallie, I’m also worried that this cabin that’s supposed to be my safe escape might become a place of danger from the outside as well as inside.

I close my eyes and try to conjure Hallie’s sweet face.

I have to focus on each step it’s going to take me to get her back.

I’m clear on everything Finn, West, and Jack expect of me.

Three-hundred-and sixty-three days to go, and then I’ll find Hallie, even if it kills me.

9

FINN

FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES

Early morning rain wakes me from a fitful night, the pounding on the cabin roof replacing the usual sound of chirping birds.

It matches the throbbing in my head.

My mouth is cardboard, and a lingering bitterness from the red wine is cloying in the back of my throat. I'm not a big drinker, and a wave of nausea ripples in my stomach.

How many of those damn shots did we do last night?

I slide out of bed and open my window, inhaling the fresh scent of damp earth, which suggests the rain has only just started. I hold out my hand, and I savor the cold, wet drops.

After living on the streets for so long, I appreciate everything about living in this cabin in this forest.

Jack's jibe last night hit me hard. He called me a stray dog. A fucking stray dog.

I know that he sometimes struggles to hold his tongue. He's gotten into many bar fights by unleashing that tongue on the wrong man. Jack's fierce enough and strong enough to come outon top most of the time, and he's always regretful after. He's a good man and has been more like family to me than I could expect of a stranger. But knowing all that doesn't make it hurt any less.

I spent much of the night tossing and turning. Jack was on a mission to rile us all, and he did a damn good job.

The season is changing now, and winter is coming. But this is the season that I love the most, exploring the forest, taking a pencil to sketch or some paints to capture the colors as they fade into paler shades. The frost begins to add a glistening effect to the landscape.

Skye seemed so happy last night, telling me and West about her love of painting and landscape. The memory brings me a small smile.

Today is Saturday, and the yard is closed until Monday, but there is still a lot to do.

I want to know what happened between Jack and Skye last night because something sure as hell did. West told her to go to him, something I wasn't happy about. But he was probably right.

Today is going to be the day that I invite Skye to see the studio. It's a work in progress, and I need West and Jack to help with some of the remaining physical tasks. It could be a way to encourage collaboration between everyone.

I crane my neck as a flash of blue catches my attention; it's Skye scuttling around the side of the house. She’s wearing one of Jack's shirts and stooping against the rain. Moments later, she returns into view with some laundry, which she had hung outto dry, and she’s moving speedily. I recognize some of my shirts and pants as well as a few of her much smaller items. She catches me watching and raises her hand, dropping some of her load onto the increasingly wet ground. I don't rush out to help her but instead notice how the damp air has lifted the bounce of her hair, framing her pretty face and how beneath the huge shirt that is swamping, she’s wearing only a tank and her underwear.

The stirring in my boxers is immediate. Skye heads back into the cabin.

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