Chapter 1

Chapter

One

My heart is pounding as if it is going to burst out of my chest. I don't know why I let go of Bren's hand and ran to the side of the RV. Now I stand there, staring at the red and blue lettering that stretches from the rear to the driver's cab. Travel America. For a moment, I feel as if some alien force is sucking the air out of my lungs. I've longed for this moment for so long, but now it's as if a hundred colorful memories are swirling inside me. Tall, mossy-green spruce trees, a steel-blue sky, and a pitch-black night. They tell me my story: the story of the kidnapped girl who fell in love with her kidnapper between pine trees and ermines. A whole summer in fast forward.

At first, I believe the strange tingling in my stomach is excitement. Or joy, like earlier in the visitor center. But the longer I stand in front of the motorhome, the clearer the feeling behind this tingling becomes. It's fear. Not prepared for this, I inhale deeply after not breathing for a few seconds.

Bren is standing behind me like before when he lured me into his RV.

I'm Bren, not Jack. Sorry, do you mind getting in the back? Hold still! I won't hurt you!

The whispers in my head are like an echo from the past. A shiver crawls up my spine.

What's going on? Confused, I rub my arms, feeling the delicate fabric of my blouse which is the same I wore a year ago.

I read the letters on the side one at a time as if every secret of our history lies in between, as if all I have to do is remember it to find it again and fend off the fear. T-r-a-v-e-l A-m-e-r-i-c-a.

My journey ended in the Yukon.

"Do you regret it yet?" Brendan's deep voice is soft like wings flapping in the twilight. That one sentence and the slight melodious way of speaking are still so familiar to me. He's afraid I might change my mind and doesn't want me to know. My heart contracts with longing and pity now that I've heard part of his story from Jayden.

Wanting to hug him, I turn with a smile but something holds me back, probably the sight of the motorhome. "Of course not," I reply. "It's just that…"

Bren studies me carefully and raises an eyebrow. "Just—what?" His dark eyes sparkle but are still gentle.

Why am I suddenly afraid of the things that weren't a problem all spring? For the last few months, I've only thought about the good times with Bren as if there was no room for the rest. It seemed as if I had completely forgotten the fear of the first few weeks, as if my longing for Bren had veiled it. Now, all of a sudden, it seems like someone ripped the veil off, but I don't want Bren to know.

This is ridiculous, Lou! You've been fine for months and today, when it matters most, the sight of his RV makes your emotions run wild!

"It's nothing." I shake my head as if in confirmation.

He takes a step toward me. "You've never been good at lying." Slowly, as if not wanting to startle me, he frames my face with his hands. His fingers smell of the forest, firewood, and wolf. Suddenly, my mind goes blank, I'm so captivated by the tenderness. As if we had never parted. "I never told you," he whispers down at me from above, his cool breath brushing my lips. "But when you fib or get nervous, red splotches appear on your cheeks. One of them looks like Africa." He runs his thumb down the side of my face. "Right here. That's why I was so certain at the time that you'd taken my lighter."

I giggle and feel the fear of the old memories fading. This is Bren. The Bren who let me go. That's the only reason I could come back to him. Even so, I still feel tiny compared to his size and strength, so I stand on my tiptoes. "Maybe it's just this place, the twilight, and the RV. It's just like it was a year ago."

"You wanted it that way," he reminds me but doesn't let me go. "It was your idea."

"I know." I tentatively wrap my arms around his waist and he pulls me into a hug like a protective cocoon. It seems like he wants to keep out everything that could sunder our love. I longingly breathe in the scent of his hoodie. Needles, smoke, wilderness—and Bren. God, how I've missed him these past few months! I am extremely happy that he showed up.

Still, can love be like this? A mixture of palpitations, desire, tenderness, and fear? Can you even love someone the way I love Bren?

Burying my nose in his sweatshirt, I swallow. The answer can only be no. This love is different. It is special. It seems as though it's something alive that we must protect, something with many facets and even more memories.

When Bren releases me, Grey barks and comes toward me, tail wagging. "Somebody's jealous!" I get on my knees and wrap my arms around his neck, enjoying the soft wolf fur against my skin. His rough tongue tickles my ear. "Hey, Grey, don't worry. No one can ignore you." But really, it's not Grey who's scared, it's me. Still. Travel America flashes before me, blue and red.

That stupid lettering! It's only two words. Words shouldn't scare you! I'll probably just have to get in the RV and convince myself that the ghosts of the past are gone for good.

I look up at Bren. Dark and wild, hair falling around his face. His features are tense, the stern, unyielding mouth a thin line. He pulls Grey a bit toward him with the leash as if he is now jealous of the wolf. His gaze rests on me.

"What?" I ask softly, straightening up.

He shakes his head. The dying sunlight covers his irises like a brilliant film. "I need this chance, whatever happens."

"Whatever happens?" I glance over at the RV and fight back the sinking feeling that's building in my stomach. "Bren, what's going to happen?"

Bren wraps Grey's leash around his wrist until the majestic gray wolf is forced to stand beside him. "I'm in therapy, Lou, but I'm still not well. I will make mistakes with you, probably quite a few. I want you to forgive me."

I laugh involuntarily and push the hair out of my face. "Nobody has ever asked me to forgive mistakes that they haven't even yet made. Bren, you…"

"No one's ever had a past like mine…like ours… Lou, I've never been in a relationship. I've never really had friends. Even the boys from the slums were never my friends, like-minded people at most. I don't even know how it works…well…how to go about it…living together and all that."

"We lived together for over two months. From June twenty-fifth to September sixth," I tease him.

"You were my prisoner," he says seriously. "I was in charge and you had to obey. You can't compare that."

I stroke Grey's fur in order to busy my hands. "But…isn't that why we're here? To find out how to do it…live together?"

A shy smile creeps across his face and miraculously changes it. Now he looks like a normal young man, not so gloomy. Not like someone who drugs girls and takes them to remote places in boxes. "You're right," he says. "You see, that was my first mistake."

"Doubts aren't mistakes."

"There will be times when you will be afraid of me."

Like now? Like here? I don't know why I feel this way when everything seemed so simple a moment ago in the visitor center. Maybe it's because we're alone with no people around. There's only the tall forest, Grey, the RV, and the twilight. The familiar smell of earth and campfire.

But this time you're here by choice and you know Bren. You love him.

"I know who you are and how you can be. I make too many mistakes myself. Ask Ethan, he can confirm that for you. Only two days ago, I managed to burn the ridiculously expensive filet mignon. It ended up looking like a charred shoe sole."

He takes my outstretched hand and brings it to his lips. His breath delicately brushes my palm and a shudder runs through my body. When he touches me, everything else is okay. Even the bad feelings disappear then.

"What about your brothers?" he wants to know now. "Jay brought you here, what about the others? What do they know? And what does Jay know?"

"Jay knows everything, the others know nothing," I answer truthfully.

"Jay knows everything? Everything, honestly?" He raises an eyebrow again and lets go of my fingers. "And I'm not dead yet?"

I have to laugh now. It feels liberating when he jokes. That rarely happened back then. I can't say how it is now, but I don't think he suddenly turned into a joker or ever will, it's not in his nature. It's not something we should joke about either, but we have to deal with it in some way: not just with our love, but with all the horrors and horrible things that happened between us.

I tell him how I wrote letters to my three oldest brothers and put them under their pillows before Jay drove me here. Those letters state the truth about last summer, but I know that one truth doesn't exist by itself. I learned that from Bren in the Yukon. The truth has many faces. And I don't know if my truth of last summer is—or ever can be—my brothers' truth: They weren't there in the dense pine forests, they didn't walk my path, or watch Bren for two months fight lonely battles against his inner demons. My truth changed then. The way I saw him, what he was to me, changed. Kidnapper, confidant, lover.

I'm telling Bren all of this now and he calmly listens without revealing his feelings. I also tell him that, when I got home, I claimed that I had run away last summer and he nods as if he already knows. Maybe he read it in the newspaper.

"If I were one of your brothers, I would want to hunt down and hurt the guy who did this to you," he states at the end of my account. He's not joking this time.

He voices a fear that I can't let go of either, at least not since I left the house with Jay this morning. I've repressed it well so far—I didn't even know if Bren would show up. It's not Liam or Avery who worry me. Liam is way too self-absorbed and Avery has too much empathy to stay angry for long. Then again, this isn't about blue-dyed mashed potatoes.

"Ethan," is all I say. "He has a hard time forgiving others and his values aren't just from 1887, they're also set in stone." What's he going to say about me running away? This time for real? And with my kidnapper?

I'm sure he'll want to get me back, but that's a long way off and there's no way he's getting Bren's property information from Jay. Jay promises me that. We will be left in peace on Bren's land.

Alone in the wilderness again.

Without another soul.

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. The Yukon suddenly feels like a hostile place and there's nothing I can do about it. In the end, I was so happy there.

Were you really?

I hate that little voice inside of me.

Grey licks my fingers as if sensing my tension, trying to calm me down. I scratch his ears, bury my hands in the short summer fur, and avoid Bren's gaze.

"Don't do that, Lou," he suddenly says quietly.

"Don't do what?"

"Be afraid. Of me and your decision."

"I'm not!"

"Liar," he grumbles, but he says it tenderly. "Of course you're scared. Anything else wouldn't be normal." He looks at me with concern. "Did you ever have nightmares…about, you know…the box…or the flashbacks?"

"No, never," I reply a tad too quickly, but I don't want him to worry.

"I've been thinking about how the past few months must have been for you, Lou." It feels as if he's peering deep inside me, as if he's testing the truth of what I said before. This still feels as strangely haunting as it did a year ago; at the time, it also seemed he had X-ray vision.

"Bren, if I had had nightmares, I probably wouldn't be here!"

He nods thoughtfully. "Let's hope it stays that way, then."

Because otherwise, you will definitely leave me.

I swear that's what he thought! I want to take away this fear somehow and force a smile on my face. "Maybe we can work through the list of my fears," I suggest, deliberately cheerful.

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Like a to-do list?"

I nod eagerly.

"So, what scares you the most right now?" he asks in a rough voice and winks at me. My heart flutters, a storm of butterflies in my chest. This time it's not fear, but excitement and strange happiness.

"To get inside."

As if in a dream, I walk through the RV less than a minute later, running my fingers carefully over the furniture. Nothing has changed. The kitchenette is still yellow, the sink plain steel, and the curtains checkered. Up front is the driver's cab with the sleeping alcove above it. The toilet is further back on the right, the shower on the left, and the tiny room for sleeping in the very back. I take a deep breath and walk toward the double bed. This is where I initially spent most of my time. This is where I was afraid and wept for my brothers. The duvet is pristine white and exudes the smell of organic soap. I stop at the foot of the bed and recognize the crescent-shaped mark on the floor, the first thing I saw after Bren pulled me out of the box. My chest tightens and I tug nervously at the cover. My fingers are shaking. It's crazy. Why is this sight suddenly so hard to bear?

"Did you throw the box away?" My gaze wanders to the walls and I spot the metal plates with the eyelets that held my chains and shackles a year ago.

Why didn't he unscrew them?

"I tried to dismantle it, but I almost ripped out the walls," he explains from behind, probably guessing what I was thinking by the direction of my gaze. "You're welcome to look under the table up front, that's where I tried first. There's a fist-sized hole now, almost reaching the outer panel… Lou, go take a look if you don't believe me." He says the line firmly but not harshly.

Of course, he knows how I'm doing. What am I really afraid of? That he immediately pulls out the shackles, chains me up, and screams, "You fell for it"?

I turn to him. His eyes are full of warmth even if his smile is still as rare and unnatural as it was a year ago. But I know all this. I fell in love with him despite his seriousness or perhaps because of it.

No, it's not because of him that I feel such anxiety, it's the atmosphere in here that makes it hard to breathe. "Bren, I…"

"Bad memories, huh?" He takes my hand and his warm fingers show me how cold they are. Damp really.

I nod.

"Memories are like sleeping dogs. They can wake up and bite at any time, usually when you least expect it."

"Triggered memories, is that what you mean?" Who would know better than Bren!

He sighs. "Yes. In here, you'll face all kinds of triggers. Maybe I should have bought another RV." His anger at himself is apparent in his expression.

I shake my head. If I can't make it here, it will be like running away from the past and I won't make it anywhere else, but I keep that to myself. "Is your therapy giving you more control over your triggers?" He said earlier he might still scare me, so I'm assuming the attacks aren't over yet. Maybe the metal plates with the steel eyelets are intended for him.

"It's better than it was a year ago, or else I never would have been able to go into the studio for Hero of the Week." He thinks for a moment as if trying to figure out how much he can tell me without me running away screaming. "My therapist's name is India Lee. She taught me various skills that help me stop the attacks. She is fantastic."

"Fantastic?" I smile slyly and squeeze his fingers. "Should I be worried?"

Bren smiles back, and once again, his smile reassures me. When Bren smiles, it's like there's nothing between us, nothing at all, not even the past. The right corner of his mouth moves further up. "She's no taller than a garden gnome, Lou. You're a giant compared to her."

"Maybe you're into garden gnomes?" I say, pushing out my bottom lip. "Does she wear a stocking cap?"

Now he laughs a short, choppy HA! A hot and cold shiver runs down my back. Partially because this laugh makes him look better than ever. He looks like a model for a wildlife commercial.

"I'm serious!" I punch him playfully in the chest and he catches my fist and holds it tight.

"I like your jealousy!" He kisses my knuckles. "India Lee is too old for me. And besides, she isn't my type at all. She is not blonde, and she wears lambskin slippers and felt pants like a flower child. She's a bit of a weirdo in a way."

"A weirdo? Then you two are a good match."

The look he gives me is disapproving in a good-natured sort of way. "Seriously, Lou. We have so much to talk about! I don't even know where to start."

"Okay, how about these skills?" I ask.

"Skills are abilities or strategies to break free during an attack. India Lee says there are parts of myself repressed by the past. My attacks aren't merely flashes, Lou, they're dissociative states. I'll explain it to you later, maybe not on our first day. That would be…too much, wouldn't it?"

I nod.

"I have better control of them, so you don't need to be scared anymore—that should do it for now." Now the laughter has gone, leaving the serious Bren behind.

"Will you ever be able to tell me what happened to you as a child?"

Shadows darken his face. "You already know it. Your deduction back in the forest was correct."

I know even more, but I'm definitely not going to tell him that today. I know his mom didn't abandon him, it was his stepfather who kidnapped him. But before he finds out, I need to know how he's truly doing so I don't end up making things worse with the truth and he relapses. "What I mean is will you ever be able to actually talk about it?" I ask instead. "I gathered what I know from your attacks, but it's different to hear it from you when you're clear-headed."

"Able to talk about it?" He lets go of me abruptly and rests his hands on the wall to the left and right. "What parts of my story do you want to hear, Lou? The one where I was trapped in the coffin for days and my stepdad only dragged me upstairs to drink? So I wouldn't die of thirst and he could continue tormenting me? Or do you want me to tell you how he used his belt on me until my skin split open because I misspelled Oklahoma?"

I can't answer, maybe because his honesty shocks me, but maybe also because his tone is so harsh. For a moment, I don't know how to react. He certainly doesn't want pity, but I still feel miserable just looking at him, imagining what he's been through.

He beats me to it. "My second mistake." He shrugs, discouraged. "I'm asking too much of you."

"I shouldn't have asked. I know you hate talking about it."

"It's your right to ask."

"And it is your right to remain silent."

Dusk has given way to darkness over Sequoia National Park and a bird sings a high, delicate tune. A wood warbler, I think. The side door is still open and a cool wind is blowing through the hall. We look at each other. Brendan's eyes are like shiny black water. There is so much unsaid, so much unfathomable. I realize therapy has probably changed him more than I thought. Maybe it made him even more vulnerable, who knows which of his hells he had to go through again. I can only guess but never understand. Especially not me because I grew up with so much love. That love probably acts as a shield against the bad things he did to me before I fell in love with him. Maybe I'll never truly know him. And yet, now, beneath the darkness of his gaze, I feel that familiarity that bound us in the Yukon during the last few weeks. It's like a ribbon that flutters from him to me and back again. And for some reason, I know that no matter what happens, it will never leave us.

"Lou," he says softly.

"What is it?" I whisper back.

"I don't want what I went through to stand between us." He beckons me. "Come here."

I walk toward him as if following the fluttering ribbon and he pulls me into his arms. Feeling his firm body against mine, my knees weaken. It feels so good to be held by him. His closeness, his smell, and his body awaken trust and longing, the deep desire to touch him and be touched by him, just like back then under the willow. And yet it is different in the RV than it was earlier in the visitor center. I feel vulnerable, fragile like a glass bird. Bren is my cage but the door is wide open. And I know as long as he leaves it open, I will never ever leave him.

"I love you, Lou, and nothing else," he whispers in my ear, pushing me back to look at me. For a moment, I think he's going to kiss me, but for some reason, he seems to know I need his hug more right now. "I want to tell you everything one day. But that day may be far off in the future."

"Even if it never comes, it's okay." I breathe into his sweatshirt until I feel dizzy. Maybe it's his proximity that triggers the dizziness. I still can't quite believe we're together again, it seems like a dream.

He gently strokes my hair and the lonely warbler outside falls silent. At some point, he lets go of me and kicks the wooden paneling at the bottom of the double bed. "Of course I threw the box away," he says incoherently, but it is the answer to my earlier question. I almost forgot about it. Now it even seems ridiculous that I asked at all. I mean why would he still have it?

"So, what are these skills?" I ask.

"With you, it's a hug."

He smiles when I stare at him blankly.

"How are you now?"

I take stock while looking at the bed and then the metal plates. Suddenly, it doesn't seem as threatening as it did in the beginning. "Better."

"See." He nods at me. "A hug is one of your skills. It brings you back to reality when the past takes hold of you. Of course, only I can hold you in my arms like this."

I tilt my head. "That's okay, I think!"

"You think?"

I giggle under his mock severity. Well, it's not an act at all. "So, what are the skills?" I ask quickly.

"Chewing ice, ice-cold water, smelling salts, and chilies." He looks at me with a straight face.

"I'm lucky that kissing isn't one of my skills. Imagine you just chewed a chili pepper!"

Now he's smiling again. "See, Lou, that's why I love you so much: you make difficult things easy."