Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

Crow

Icould feel the snow in the air even though it hadn’t arrived yet. My freezers were stocked with meat, the cabinets and extra storage packed with dry and canned foods. The three fridges were full as well. I had a generator set up in case I lost power, gas to run it, enough firewood to get me through two winters, and almost everything else I would need for the next few months.

My truck bumped along the road as I headed down for my last trip to town.

The moment I left the gate, a heaviness weighed down on me.

The winter would be good for me, though. I needed the space, needed more time to pass where I didn’t have to see him. Where he didn’t try to talk to me and I didn’t have to fight myself so hard to stay away. No good would come of him trying to get close to me. All it would do was hurt him, and deep down, I knew Cyrus had more pain in his life than most people. Maybe that was why he seemed to be drawn to me, but what he didn’t understand was that I didn’t have anything to give another person. I didn’t even know how to be friends with someone—not anymore, if I ever had to begin with. And if I were honest with myself, I’d admit I didn’t even need to go to town today. I was already overstocked with enough supplies to last a lifetime.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about him, this twitch forming in my chest that felt wrong and uneasy because all my thoughts shouldn’t be possessed by him. Obsessed. Possessed. Both fit, and the more time went by, the more it grew.

I went to the hardware store first, not sure if I was relieved or upset that he wasn’t there.

Trying to shove all thoughts of Cyrus out of my head, I went to the grocery store next. Like always, people looked at me and talked about me as I went up and down the aisles. I hadn’t had any trouble with Billy and the guys lately, probably because they were afraid of getting hurt. Still, every now and again, I would have to deal with them, and next time, I hoped I would be able to control myself. If it hadn’t been for Cyrus, I might not have stopped.

I picked up a few things, but the eyes on me made my skin feel too tight, made me want to lash out at them all, if for nothing more than to give them a reason to look at me the way they did.

I checked out, put the bags in my truck, ready to get the fuck out of there, when I felt a tingle at the back of my neck. I looked up to see Cyrus walking out of the pharmacy with a bag in his hand, drowning in a large coat. There was something different about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. He had a beanie covering his head, his gaze angled down, his body looking almost curled in on itself.

It was wrong, entangling myself with him even more, but I slammed the door, boots taking loud, hard steps across the parking lot.

I didn’t know if he heard me or sensed me, but suddenly his head shot up, gaze locking on mine, just as a deep rumble started low in my chest. His hand shot up to cover his face, but it was too late, the black eye all I could see. My teeth grinded together, my nostrils flaring.

“Wh-o.” The single word came out broken, and suddenly, I hated that I didn’t use my voice enough for it to sound right, hated that the rage festering inside me made it hard to get out.

“None of your business.”

“Who?” I managed to push out again. I vibrated with so much anger, I thought my bones would break, just grind to dust right there.

“It’s over, and I dealt with it.”

I didn’t doubt he had. I could feel his strength simmering beneath the surface, like a lion stalking its prey. The brave little lamb had spent a lifetime protecting himself, and still stood tall. Had he ever had someone look after him? Care for him? He’d mentioned his mother being incredible—was she that person? I’d spent the first eighteen years of my life thinking I’d never had someone like that, and not realizing I needed it until I got my mother’s journal and discovered she’d been that person for me.

I’d never wanted to be it for someone else, hadn’t even fathomed that was a possibility for me. People were confusing, frustrating, and I didn’t like them…but I liked him. I’d wanted to take care of him when he’d sprained his ankle, the feeling even more intense now. Whoever did this to him, I would rip them apart with my bare hands.

I growled, low and angry.

Cyrus tried to step around me, but I moved in front of him, blocking his path. He tried to take a step in the other direction, so I did it again.

“I understand it…why you like it out here. Somehow the seclusion and quiet helps silence the voices in my head.”

I took his arm and began tugging him toward my truck.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Cyrus tried to pull out of my grasp, but I didn’t let him, just kept walking as he tried to work himself free. “What the hell, Crow? Unless you want me to kick you in the balls like I did the guy who gave me this black eye, you better tell me what the fuck is going on.”

He’d kicked him. I had to bite the inside of my cheek so I didn’t smile. The action nearly had me stumbling because it was so foreign to me. When was the last time I’d smiled? That last time wasn’t something I could think about.

When we got to my truck, I ripped the passenger door open and motioned for him to get inside.

“No.”

I motioned again, but he crossed his arms, bag still in his hand, and stood his ground. “What’s the point? You don’t even know me. What do you care if someone hits me?”

Another growl pushed past my lips because I shouldn’t care. But I did.

“Maybe I like to be roughed up. Maybe we were fucking and he—”

I pressed my hand over his mouth, unable to hear any more. He was trying to piss me off, trying to get under my skin, and it was working. Voice low, mouth close to his lips, I forced out, “Get in. The fucking. Truck.” Cyrus stilled against me, before a tremble ran the length of his body. I inhaled a deep breath, taking in the scent of him. The sweetness that was Cyrus and the fear, wrapped up in desire, was a heady combination that made my cock throb. “Now.”

When I pulled back slightly, our eyes met. He studied me, trying to make sense of this, make sense of me, but it was impossible. I wasn’t right. I was…unexplainable. The man who lived on the fringes.

Whatever he saw made a sigh fall from his lips before he got in.

I took the seat belt and wrapped it around him, clicking it closed.

“Are you trying to keep me from escaping? You know I can press a button.”

But he wouldn’t. I felt that deep in my bones. He wouldn’t because he didn’t want to.

I closed the door without a word, walked around, and got into the driver’s seat.

We were silent for the first few minutes as I headed toward the mountain. He fidgeted in his seat, and every once in a while, would raise his hand to cover his eye.

“I’m not weak. I might make stupid decisions, but I’m not weak, and I really can protect myself.”

I didn’t doubt that. Not in the least.

“It was my ex-boyfriend. I was feeling lonely. My mental health had taken a nosedive, and I called him. He also was my supplier when I did drugs. He brought coke, and I almost did it. He wanted to fuck and didn’t want to take no for an answer. I never should have called him. It was my stupid mistake.”

My hands ached as I tightened my hold on the steering wheel. “Don’t call him again.”

He flinched. “Yes, I know I’m an idiot. You don’t have to tell me. Of course he would want something in exchange for coming to see me.”

I nearly drove off the road, my heart pounding against my chest. Cyrus thought I was blaming him.

“Him,” was all I managed to say.

“Him what?”

I shook my head, frustrated with myself. “Not. Your. Fault.”

He didn’t respond, but when I glanced his way, I could see that Cyrus didn’t believe me. All I could think about was some motherfucker’s hands on him. The fact that he was so low that he’d called that prick, and I wondered if it had anything to do with me, with how I’d treated him. Maybe it was my fault.

“Why are you taking me up the mountain? It’s clear you don’t want me there. You haven’t spoken to me in months. You ignore me when I try to talk to you, and now because I have a little black eye—not the worst injury I’ve ever had, FYI—you’re suddenly kidnapping me? He’s gone. It’s been a few days, and he’s texted me, pissed off. I know he’s back in Denver, so you don’t have to trouble yourself with me.”

Trouble myself with him. There was a lot I wanted to do with him, and though in some ways it made things more difficult for me, it didn’t feel like I was troubling myself for him. It was…a need.

Now I just had to figure out what I was going to do with him.