Beyond the Mountain Sky (McBride Brother Lumberjacks #2)

Chapter 1

LIAM

The last trickle of daylight disappears behind the highest peak of McBride Mountain, taking with it any ability I had left to plaster on a fake smile and pretend I was actually enjoying the Memorial Day Festival this year.

It used to be my favorite time of year.

The start of summer.

When McBride Mountain truly comes alive again after making it through the cold, snowy winter that often feels never-ending.

Days grow longer and warmer.

The sun stays up well into the evening.

All the plants and animals wake up and begin relishing it all.

But the days of enjoying the beauty of this place and the traditions I grew up with are well behind me—irrevocably tainted by the ugly truth that looked back at me with the same eyes that day up on the mountain when my world came crashing down around me.

Now, as I pull away from the parking lot behind the church near town square, confident we’ve finished cleaning up from the crowd of locals and tourists who flocked downtown for the festivities today, I know there’s only one place to go.

Home.

Up the mountain.

To the land the McBrides have lived on, worked, and protected for generation after generation.

The McBrides did…

A shudder rolls through me at the thought of going back there, to the only place I’ve ever called home, just as it has every day for the past nine months since I learned the truth about who I am, about where I came from, about the blood that runs through my veins.

My driver’s license may say Liam McBride, but I know—and now, so does everyone else in town—that I’m a Byers. That my father brutally killed my mother after she risked her life to get me away from his abuse.

And they know what he did to Willow…

Something I can’t help but see every time I look at her.

Those bruises, cuts and scrapes that marred her body when Killian dragged her from the river weren’t merely caused by the rocks and logs in the water, and the emotional scars she now carries are far worse than anything physical she endured.

All because of the man who is my father.

My stomach turns violently, and I grip the steering wheel tighter, sitting at the single stop sign in town for far too long, unable to force myself to take the long, winding road past the falls and up the mountain to my cabin.

Because as soon as I get there, I’ll have to spend another night alone, with nothing but my thoughts that keep me awake and nightmares that attack the moment I do manage to fall asleep.

And I don’t know if I can survive another night.

They’ve only gotten worse as the weeks have passed.

Each night, when I close my eyes, I see his.

The violence in the green orbs when he faced down Killian on the mountain. The way he looked at Willow and didn’t see her at all, but rather, the woman who gave birth to me and then died to save me. The way he didn’t even see her as a person but as something to possess, to control.

That’s what I have to look forward to when I get home—those images, those realities.

But I don’t have anywhere else to go.

I’ve never left the mountain.

I’ve never even left this town.

It’s the only home I’ve ever known, and these people I can’t seem to look in the eye anymore are the only friends or family I have—unless you count the Byers who are rotting in jail.

So, whether I like it or not, home it is.

I pull away from the stop sign at the corner and make my way down the narrow two-lane road that winds around McBride Mountain toward the turnoff that will take me up it to the homestead.

Each mile that passes, the darkness of the night envelops me even deeper. The trees rise higher on either side of the pavement, the mountain looming to my right.

The faint floodlights of the McBride Lumber yard appear ahead on the left, and for a brief moment, I almost consider turning in, spending the night in the office, and just crashing there at my desk, but it wouldn’t be any better there than at home in my own bed.

Not with the memory of Willow enduring that hypnotism there.

Not with all the maps lining the walls, including the one Willow and the rest of us used to figure out where Earl must have taken her and where he had held her captive for a year.

Where he forced her to give birth to Niall and run for her life afterward with a newborn in her arms and a prayer to a God who had failed her.

My eyes burn with unshed tears, but I try desperately not to let them fall.

I’ve wasted so many of them over the last nine months, spent too much time dwelling on what happened and my father’s and aunt’s roles in it, but no matter how much I tell myself to move on, to get over it, I can’t.

Even as I watch Killian and Willow with Niall, finding their joy and moving past the pain to build the life they’ve always wanted together, I can’t.

Because Earl’s blood flows through me.

A man who was capable of that kind of devastating violence.

A man who was capable of murdering his wife.

A man who was capable of kidnapping an innocent woman and torturing her for a year.

A man who was prepared to kill anyone who got in his way.

A man who did God only knows what else over the past several decades that was hidden behind the veil of fog the mountain provides.

What does that make me?

The son of a monster…

As soon as I pass the lumberyard, the darkness that matches the feeling in my soul engulfs the truck again and I head toward the turnoff for the falls.

I’m tempted to turn in there, too. To park in the small dirt lot and meander through the trees down the path to the waterfall that cascades off the face of the cliff and into the giant pool below.

I could strip off my clothes and slide into the still-icy waters. Let them wash away this constant feeling of being dirty. My soul tainted by what someone who shares my blood did to someone I love so much.

My headlights illuminate the narrow, two-lane road bracketed by towering trees, providing the only break to the pitch-black of the mountain this time of night…

Until a flash of movement and something white cuts across the road.

“Shit!”

I slam on my brakes, the tires squealing as they search for purchase on the pavement, and the truck finally comes to a halt.

My heart thunders against my rib cage.

My breaths rush out hard, my chest aching as I try to see what darted out in front of me.

Out here, it could be just about anything—a rabbit, most likely, given the small size.

I could keep driving, just go, especially since I didn’t feel a bump like I hit anything, but the way I’m shaking, I don’t trust myself to head up the sometimes treacherous mountain trail to the McBride homestead right now.

Nor will my conscience allow me to do that.

I throw the truck into park, push open the door with a trembling hand, then climb from it onto shaky legs. My boots crunch over random bits of gravel in the road as I make my way toward the front of the truck, but I don’t see anything until I fully round the headlight.

What the…?

A small French bulldog sits in the middle of the road, staring up at me with big, wide eyes with the bumper of the truck mere inches from going right over him.

“Shit.” I scrub my hands across my stubbled cheeks. “Where the hell did you come from?”

I scan the woods on either side and the mountain towering behind him. There aren’t any houses for dozens of miles, and I don’t recognize the dog, which is odd since I know all the dogs in town.

He trembles violently, keeping his gaze locked on me.

I take a cautious step forward, and the dog flinches.

Crap.

If I’m not careful, I’ll scare him off, and he might end up lost in the woods or worse.

I hold up my hands and slowly squat. “Hey, buddy. Where’d you come from?”

The pup tilts his head slightly, making the black patch covering his left eye shift over his wrinkled muzzle. Considering how white the rest of his fur is, he can’t have been out here for very long. If he were out in the underbrush for any amount of time, he would be filthy by now.

I scan the darkness again, squinting for any hints of light from the pitch-black that surrounds us. “Where’s your mom or dad?”

He continues to stare at me.

Interested.

But not barking.

Not snapping.

He doesn’t display any signs of aggression.

That’s a good sign…

I inch closer, extending my hand, and he shifts away slightly. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you. But you gotta get off the road.”

Almost everyone else left downtown hours ago, when the festival ended, except for me and a few others who volunteered to stay and clean up.

So thankfully, there shouldn’t be too many people out here, but truckers use this route at all hours of the day and night.

It’s only a matter of time before one comes barreling down this stretch and this tiny dog is no longer.

My chest aches at that thought, and I move closer still, risking my fingers as I reach for him, but he allows me to scratch under his chin as he sniffs me.

It’s now or never…

I take the opportunity to quickly scoop him up before he can bolt. He doesn’t fight it, just snuggles into my hold and lifts his head, licking my face.

“Well, aren’t you a sweet dog?” And very clearly someone’s pet, given the thin red collar. I check for a tag but don’t see one. “How did you get way out here?”

It’s a pretty decent drive out this far, and on his tiny legs, there’s no way he made it on his own.

I take a step toward the right side of the road where he came from and scan the darkness. “Hello?” My voice echoes through the otherwise silent night, but no response comes. I yell louder this time. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

Still nothing.

A light wind rustles the trees, and my engine rumbles on the road behind us, but there isn’t any sign of where he might have come from or how to get him back to his owner.

Hell.

“Well, big guy, it looks like you’re coming home with me tonight. We can go see Doc Lawson in the morning and see if you have a microchip. Try to find your owner.”