Chapter 44Goldie

Chapter 44

Goldie

B rooks puts me down and I can barely breathe through the panic tightening my chest, but I have to think—how the hell do I fix this? How do I make them see that this wasn't some grand manipulation, that I wasn't trying to exploit them for some damn reality show? I was never trying to exploit them. I never had bad intentions. I was stupid, yes, but not malicious.

I was supposed to just enjoy myself, to have sex with them, to have fun with them, but now…I've barely fallen in love with them, I've barely found them, and I'm losing them. They've become the home I've spent my entire life searching for. This mountain, this ramshackle cabin, these brothers—they've given me more than I ever thought I could have. The moments of laughter, the quiet conversations, the way they've let me into their world. They're my family now. Or they could've been. I don't just want them—I need them.

Rusty comes back and I feel him staring at me and I don't feel like I have the strength to meet his gaze, but I have to. I have to if only because I know how damn much it hurts that none of the others will look at me. Other than Brooks, he's the only one giving me that much and I have to give it back.

"You've got three minutes," Luke says.

"Take your time. Don't leave anything out," Hunter says. But then he adds to Luke, almost as an apology for overriding him, "If you don't want to hear what she has to say, you can go up to the attic and we'll fill you in after she's gone."

"After she's gone?" Rusty asks. "She's leaving? What the—"

Hunter holds up a hand to silence him.

"Go ahead, Goldie."

Goldie. Not Sunshine.

I sniffle, looking down at my hands.

"I already told Luke this part," I say. "But I came to the mountain because when I was young, I was here camping with friends and I was almost attacked by a bobcat. A Sasquatch saved me. I know it was a Sasquatch. I know it. I came back to the mountain to find him, to thank him."

I close my eyes, breathing in and out.

"She told you that?" Hunter asks.

"Yeah, but come on, it's bullshit."

"It's the truth," I say with more force than I mean. "But I didn't tell you the whole truth. I wasn't just coming to the mountain to thank him. I was coming to make a documentary about him."

One of them hisses air through his teeth.

"But not an exploitative documentary. I mean, I didn't realize that to you all, any documentary about a Sasquatch is exploitive, because of the attention that Sasquatch sightings bring—they disrupt your lives, wreck your privacy. But I wanted to make a documentary showing the world that Sasquatches aren't some big, bad monsters. They're kind and gentle and…heroic." I wipe my nose on my sleeve and stumble ahead. "I found my campsite and then I heard you all, at the swimming hole. I thought I found Sasquatches. I did. I mistook you all for Sasquatches and I'm sorry. You chased me, I ran into Luke, we fell, you brought me back here and the rest is history."

"Did you fake the injured ankle?" Lynx asks, sounding injured himself.

"No. Absolutely not. And your poultice, your care, worked wonders on it. You're really good at taking care of people, Lynx."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, honey," Luke says, using the word honey more derisively than I've ever heard it used in my life. And that's saying a lot, considering my work in reality television. And speaking of that…

"My documentary was an independent film. A passion project. It was not a reality show. No studios or production companies wanted it because it wasn't salacious enough. It was going to be wholesome and full of heart and I know that doesn't matter to you all and I get it."

As I've talked, the body-wracking sobs have subsided, but the tears still cascade down my face.

"Could you please spare us the waterworks?" Luke barks. "Next thing you know, she's gonna be claiming she needs to stay because she's too dehydrated to make it down the mountain."

"Let her finish, Luke," Brooks says, and I feel a surge of hope. Is he on my side? Will he forgive me?

"I…" My voice falters, because this is the hardest part. "I convinced myself you all were half-Sasquatch and that my Sasquatch—the Sasquatch that saved me—must've been your father. But you wouldn't talk about your past, about your…about your Pa. I had the stupid surveillance cameras, disguised as snails and stones, because I was going to put them out around my campsite, hoping I'd get some footage of the Sasquatch that way, if I didn't manage to film him myself, with my high-speed camera or phone. I decided to hide them in here, in the living area, so maybe I could catch you all talking about it. About being half-Sasquatch. About your father being a Sasquatch."

There are several sharp intakes of breath. I don't know from who. I'm keeping my gaze straight ahead, on Hunter's knees.

"At some point, I decided I couldn't make the documentary without your unanimous blessing. I just wanted to know. So I could thank him. I swear." It all sounds so silly and so stupid now and I can't believe I'm losing these real men I love over some mythic cryptid that probably never existed.

"How many cameras are there?" Hunter asks.

"You lied to me," Brooks speaks up.

"She lied to us all," Luke says.

I meet Brooks' eyes.

"The other day. I caught you with one of these snails," he says, holding up the busted one. They must've been passing it around while I was talking. "Not this one, it had different coloring to it. You told me it was just a cute knickknack you found on the shelf and liked."

I nod. "I couldn't tell you. I didn't want you to know. I was taking the cameras down when you walked in on me, because I'd realized how wrong it was to have put them out. That one—" I point at the one he's holding. "That's the last one. There were twelve in all. They came in a pack of a dozen. Six snails, six pebbles. I tried to get them all down but I couldn't find that one."

"Guess I'm better at finding things than you are then," Clay says, but his words are humorless.

"I am so sorry. I—"

"You said you were in love me," Ranger says, and there are more sharp intakes of breath all around.

"She said she loves us ," Ash corrects, to the others. "All of us." Then he finally looks at me. "Was that a lie too?"

"No, Ash. God, no. That was—"

"That's neither here or there. You're done explaining, you can go now," Luke says. "Should we take a vote to make sure it's unanimous?"

One by one, the brothers look at Luke, then at me. Then one by one, they look away again.

"Gotta go with Luke on this one." Ranger splays his hands, like there's nothing he can do, and gets up and leaves the room. Without even a goodbye.

The others follow suit.

Ash stares at the floor, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscles twitch in his face. He doesn't speak up. He doesn't fight for me. Do I deserve for him to? Probably not, but it still hurts like hell. Finally, he gets up and heads out the back door.

It's just me and Luke and Buck.

Buck—he seems to be the holdout. His face is torn, his brow furrowed like he's waging some internal war. He glances at me, then back at Luke.

"I'm sorry," Buck whispers, his voice barely audible, but it slices my heart in two like a goddamned guillotine.

And that's it

It's over.

Luke stands up, his movements sharp and deliberate. He grabs my bag that Hunter brought back in, and without a word, he walks to the door and flings it outside again.

Finally, Luke breaks the silence. His voice is cold, final. There's no grumpiness. There's nothing. "Buck will take you to your campsite to get your things. He'll make sure you get off this mountain. I put your phone in your bag. If my brothers meant anything at all to you, please delete those pictures."

I feel like I can't breathe. This is really happening.

Buck steps forward, guilt written all over his face. He reaches out like he's going to touch me, to offer some kind of comfort, but then he stops himself, letting his hand fall back to his side.

I stand, my legs trembling beneath me.

"And once you're gone," Luke says from behind me, his voice low, "don't come back. Ever."