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Chapter 38

I stared at the phone in my hand, then up at Bard's retreating back.

That fucking asshole! He knew. He knew I wouldn't be able to make a call up here.

"Hey!" I jumped out of the car and stormed after him. "Bard!"

He ignored me.

I ran to catch up and grabbed the back of his shirt. "Hello!"

Bard stopped and turned. The way he stood, the look on his face as he literally looked down at me, made me feel like a chihuahua who'd picked a fight with a bear. A big, annoyed bear.

His brow lifted. "Yes?"

Is he... trying to intimidate me? I almost laughed. My fingers curled around the worthless device, and I shoved it into his chest. "You did this shit on purpose!"

"And how exactly did I do that?" Same expression, same lifted brow, like a statue, unaffected.

"You knew I wouldn't be able to call." Despite knowing he wouldn't lay a hand on me, I still took a step back. I blamed it on instinct.

Bard matched the movement. "I did."

I looked around. Alone. Secluded. "Well, then." I cleared my throat. "That's pretty messed up." Another step back.

"I'm sorry." Another step forward, looming, like a walking mountain about to crush me. "If you feel so betrayed, you could always spit the gum out." With that, his expression completely changed, and a wide smile spread across his face.

I glared at him and took the gum out of my mouth with every intention of sticking it to his nose. I reached up to do just that...

I hadn't expected him to open his mouth, nor to lean forward and take the gum, along with my fingers, between his lips.

A fire ignited every inch of my skin, and I stood, dumbstruck, staring at him, lips slightly parted, eyes wide, frozen.

His tongue caressed my fingers as he slowly pulled away. "I like sweet things," he said, chewing the gum pointedly.

I whimpered. Fuck it if I didn't whimper, and he smirked. That asshole smirked.

"Come on, Tequila. Let me show you the cabin." He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and lead me inside.

I couldn't do anything but follow. My heart was racing, my mind on repeat. His tongue, the look in his eyes, the feel of him tasting me. I was gonna burn. I was burning already. Shit. This was an awful idea.

He kept my body pressed into his side, and I didn't even have the presence of mind to pull away.

"This is it, home sweet home." Bard motioned with one arm as we stepped through the door.

The room was small, not as small as the motor home, but not big either.

It was remarkably clean for a place nobody lived in, and I wondered how often Bard visited.

Obvious feminine touches peppered throughout the living room. A floral sofa lined up with the far wall. An wooden rocking chair faced an entertainment center that was covered in knick knacks and photos, filled with VHS tapes. A TV and VCR.

Even more photos coated the walls, dozens of them, all varying in sizes. I pulled away from Bard and inspected the closest one.

An older Bard stared back at me, and a little boy clung to his leg, looking like a young Tarzan, shirtless and covered in dirt, smiling like the sun shone just for him. So... happy.

My heart clenched, and I moved on to the next one. The same man stood with an obvious Zeke, both much younger, each holding a line with a bundle of fish at the end in one hand and fishing poles in the other.

They were everywhere, and for a girl who'd never had a home, this was a new experience for me. Sure there'd been foster families. Some of them had been okay, not as bad as the others, but this was different.

There'd been love here. The memory of it lingered in the air. It choked me, tightened my throat and burned my eyes.

Then I saw her. Bard's mother. It was unmistakable. She was holding him, no older than a toddler, her arms surrounding him as he placed a kiss onto her cheek.

And she was smiling. His smile. That rare smile that blinded me.

My eyes burned, and I blinked back emotions I hadn't expected to feel.

Bard didn't say a word. He just let me look without an ounce of protest towards my nosiness.

When I turned, he was studying me. "She would have liked you. You remind me of her. Free spirited and wild." He kept his tone normal, but I could tell. For once, Bard couldn't hide his feelings.

This place affected him. It was in the way he held himself, the way his fingers twitched on his left hand, and his eyes stayed fixed on me. It was as if he was avoiding the room, like he couldn't look but didn't have a choice.

That memory of love had been his. This world... had been his, and he lost all of it. He'd been forced to watch it be ripped away from him.

I don't know what possessed me. Maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was my own emotions running high, but I approached him.

Bard watched me, unmoving. He didn't say a word as I wrapped my arms around him and laid my head on his chest, offering comfort the only way I knew how. He leaned down and buried his face into my hair.

I didn't utter meaningless I'm sorries. Sorries wouldn't bring them back, sorries wouldn't fix what Drake had done, sorries wouldn't take the pain away. So, I just held him.

We stayed like that for a while, neither speaking, neither breaking the contact. When the room darkened, Bard whispered, "You're the only person I've ever met who gets it."

I understood, but he was wrong. I didn't get it, I couldn't. "There's a difference," I said, pulling back to look at him. "I never had anything to lose."

"It's easier that way," he said. "I haven't had anything to lose for a long time." His voice was rough as the emotions he'd kept buried fought to come to the surface.

"I guess it is."

He caressed my cheek. "It was."

I took a step back. Things were going too deep. I knew what he meant, knew what he was getting at, and it couldn't happen. I didn't have it in me to say it, though, not right then. He knew. I'd told him enough times already.

So instead, I changed the subject. "I'm hungry. What kind of foods do mountain people eat?"

He smiled, then motioned with his head for me to follow him.

Directly behind us, a doorway lead into a kitchen decorated in a combination of cheery yellows, floral patterns, and ceramic chickens.

Bard walked over to the fridge and opened the door. "Take your pick, Tequila. I stocked it up while I was out here."

I looked inside, and my mouth fell open. It was so full, and I was so hungry, so used to the minimal, I wanted to eat everything.

Bard stood out of the way and grinned at my response.

I studied his face. He'd done this, planned this. That was why the place was clean. That was why he'd been out here, why he'd left. For me, for his family, to keep us all safe. "How about I cook you dinner?" I offered, feeling generous, and more than a little grateful to him.

Bard's smile fell, and his eyes grew wary. "Uh, how about I cook?"

I remembered the eggs and barked a laugh.

Bard's eyes locked onto my mouth. "You should laugh more often, Tequila."

I sobered, but I couldn't stop the smile that curved my lips. "I was thinking about the eggs. I'm sure you were thinking about them, too." A laugh tried to bubble its way back out, but I swallowed it down and held a hand over my mouth.

Bard grinned at me.

"I know how to cook, Bard. I used to have to cook for everyone back at the clubhouse."

His smile dimmed, but he didn't seem upset.

"I burnt those eggs like that on purpose." I laughed. "And you ate them."

He smirked. "Just a bite." His head tilted. "Alright then, Tequila. Show me what you got."

I ushered him to the old wooden table and pushed him into a chair. "Don't get up."

Bard did like he was told, but his eyes stayed glued to me as I made my way around the kitchen.

Everything was organized and easy to find. I rummaged through the fridge and decided on a meatloaf. Bard seemed like the type of guy that would like meatloaf. Isn't that what they called them? Meat and potato men?

I grabbed the hamburger and an onion, and tried to ignore the burning gaze on my back. Bard had really stocked us up. I had everything, even the tomato paste.

I focused on my task, chopped the onion, cracked the eggs, mixed the ingredients, the entire time nervous as fuck. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, even as I formed the loaf into a pan and placed it in the oven. "That's gonna take an hour," I said. I turned to look at him.

Sure enough, he was staring at me, so intently, so evasively, it caused the stupid heat to fill my cheeks, again.

"I think it will take longer than that," he said. "But I'm willing to wait."

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