9
LUCKY
It seems that agreeing to stay in McBride Mountain—at least temporarily—means Gizmo and I are moving up in the world—literally.
With my backpack containing everything I own in the back seat of Liam’s truck and Gizmo on my lap, we set out to head up to his place. As in…up McBride Mountain itself.
Despite trying to remain calm about the change of scenery and what this all means, my knee keeps bouncing, the nerves getting the best of me as we pass all the way through town, pause at the one stop sign that still seems absolutely unnecessary, and move out onto the road that loops around the mountain.
We drive past McBride Lumber to our left and the falls where I spent that night camped out on the ground and finally to a turnoff that leads up the mountain that I barely even noticed when I walked past it over a week ago.
In the pitch-black, it’s hard to see much of anything, but it doesn’t seem to faze Liam. He turns onto it easily, casting a quick glance my way, then slides his right hand on top of my knee, stopping it from bouncing.
He squeezes gently. “You’ll be safe at my place. I told you, this mountain belongs to us, and nobody fucks with the McBrides.”
I wish I could believe that were true, that simply being somewhere with someone with a certain last name was enough to protect me from what might be coming down on us, on him now that he’s done something stupid like gone and attached himself to me—or that I’ve gone and done something stupid like let him.
But his large, warm palm pressed against my knee, the heat of his body seeping into the exposed skin through the rips in my jeans, is enough to at least stop my leg from shaking momentarily.
There’s no telling what will happen as soon as he releases it, but he keeps it there as we move up a dark gravel drive, almost like he knows I need the physical contact to keep myself from spiraling again.
Massive trees loom on either side of the truck, cocooning us in an almost-gothic archway that offers no view of where we’re headed or what lies beyond this very narrow strip up the otherwise wild mountain.
“How can you see anything?”
The headlights of his truck illuminate only a few feet in front of us before the darkness and the trees swallow it up.
He quickly tosses me another grin. “I could probably drive this with my eyes closed.”
My grip on the handle of the door tightens. “Please don’t try.”
His deep chuckle rolls through the truck cab the same way thunder does the sky, but it has the opposite effect most storms do. While billowing dark clouds and sinister skies usually mean I’ll be miserable and cold on the road, Liam’s laughter warms me like lying in the sun on a hot summer day.
“I told you, Lucky, I’ve lived here my whole life. Driven this road more times than I can count. I know every bump, every turn, every tree.”
“That’s reassuring…”
But I won’t release my death grip until we’re out of the trees and squarely on the flat-ish ground where I hope his home stands.
This mountain is intimidating. The way it towers over the town, like an evergreen sentinel standing watch. Seeing how deep the darkness is out here, I can’t believe I slept outside that night beside the falls.
Even with my gun within reach and my flashlight lit all night to attempt to keep away the worst of what mother nature could bring, it was still hard to see anything beyond a few feet around me. And thinking about what is lurking out there—then and now—makes me shiver.
I glance down at Gizmo asleep in my lap, apparently completely unbothered by our sudden change of location.
It could be because he’s tired, but I think part of how relaxed and serene he’s been instead of his usual crazed self has to do with the man beside me.
Since the moment I met Liam, his calm, reassuring energy seemed to radiate from him effortlessly, and Giz feels it, too.
I guess it’s true what they say about dogs being a good judge of character.
If I had only listened to him before…
Things would be so different.
I close my eyes and try to fight off the memory, but it still comes, like it always does, especially at night when I’m sitting by that door. When I’m waiting. When I’m watching. When I’m wondering how much longer I’ll have before this bubble bursts.
Anger. Fear. Panic.
