Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“We’ll have berries soon,” Ned said and sat by the table with his cup.
There was always something about to happen soon. Berries. Grass. Warmth. By summer, they’d be taking baths in a cold spring nearby and fishing. If Cole stayed.
But he couldn’t. In his experience, everything that felt cozy might turn out to have sharp teeth and knives for hands. And he’d rather walk away from things that gave him pleasure than fall into a trap again. Perhaps that made him weak, but running from establishing close bonds like the ones that already tied him to Ned had been what kept him sane. And after two months of dealing with Ned’s irrational fears and listening to made-up stories about communicating with wolves, he rather appreciated sanity.
“I should really think of going my own way, Ned.”
Ned harrumphed and lowered his gaze to his beverage. “Think of what you might need for the way. I could make you jam with the berries that we’ll have soon.”
Soon. Next month. In the summer.
“I’ll visit to see how you’re doing,” Cole said, ignoring the tightening in his chest. He was a grown man and couldn’t live his life like a fifteen-year-old girl who saw life as an opportunity for romance and adventure.
“When do you want to go?” Ned asked in a monotone voice.
Dog sat by him and let out a little whine, putting his muzzle on Ned’s thigh as if he sensed his master’s sadness.
Cole hated dogs, but he’d have liked the beast to comfort him too.
“I don’t know… tomorrow? We both know I’ve been here longer than we agreed on. This can’t last forever Ned. Nothing does.”
Ned shrugged, his eyes dim, as if they’d gotten gray over the span of minutes. “I don’t know, I don’t have a calendar. Time flows different in the mountains. So maybe things could last here, just like snow that never melts at the peaks.”
“This isn’t real life, Ned. I have places to be.”
A lie. He had nothing but the items stowed on his horse—some clothes and trinkets, weapons, food staples, and the savings he’d managed to amass since he’d lost his small fortune to the rancher who’d marked him. He was wanted in several states and had few friends out there. But if he stayed, doubts would plague him forever, poisoning every waking hour, and even his dreams. Perhaps he should follow Ned’s example and set up on his own somewhere. Hell, maybe get a dog too?
This way, he’d never have to worry about loyalty and always be at peace.
Ned glanced at him with tension around the curved scar on his cheek. “What if… just hear me out, what if this is a curse? Punishment for destroying our carving in the tree. What if we went back to Three Stones and cut out our initials again? Maybe then it could last?”
Ned said it with such conviction that even though curses weren’t real, Cole wanted to agree to this silly plan against all rhyme and reason, and go to a place where they were both wanted for participating in the massacre, just because it would have been another excuse to stay with Ned.
Retracing their steps would take another month at least. They could have gone to all the places that proved important, even that small mining town where they’d kissed for the first time. But if Cole agreed, getting rid of the growing attachment to Ned might prove impossible. So he rose and approached his bags with words sitting at the back of his throat like a huge lump of food that he couldn’t swallow.
In seven years, he hadn’t revealed his secrets to anyone, but as he sat across from Ned with the tin box in hand, it felt as if opening the lid would equal standing naked in the middle of town and letting everyone touch him. He didn’t dare look up to see Ned’s reaction, but their memories were all in there. The other photograph. The compass. The little toy cowboy who’d lost his friend and, wrapped in Ned’s old bandana, a piece of bark Cole had cut from the tree. To burn, he’d told himself at the time, but the chunk of dry wood had been with him ever since, still marked with their initials carved into a heart.
Ned didn’t speak. He put his cup down, reached across the table, and picked up the bark. For once, Cole wished to hear him mumble his thoughts out loud.
“You kept it,” Ned whispered, holding the memento in his hands as if it were a precious gold nugget.
Cole hummed, biting the inside of his cheek to handle the emotion buzzing deep in his chest.
The past shouldn’t hurt for so long, yet seeing Ned hold the bark reminded him of everything he’d lost with blinding clarity.
“And you still want to leave me.” Ned sighed and ran his fingers over the old bandana, his features blank, as if he’d been paralyzed.