Chapter 3
Moe
––––––––
Arriving after dark, Moe found everyone in their houses. The only place that remained open after nine o'clock was the restaurant.
Copper lived in a room behind the kitchen. As the eldest and the leader of the town, he remained accessible to everyone, no matter the time.
But something felt different. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was the girl trembling in front of him. Maybe it was the fact that he'd left and made it back without dying.
He'd proven it was possible to leave. They could all leave.
The restaurant windows glowed warm against the night. The sign above the door flickered.
He killed the engine. The sudden quiet pressed in on him. The girl stiffened, her breath catching as she looked around like she expected monsters to crawl out of the shadows.
"Get off." He dropped his arms to his sides.
She hesitated, then slid off the bike. He grabbed her wrist before she could try to get away as he threw his leg over the seat and shook the stiffness out of his knees.
He led her toward the restaurant.
The bell over the door chimed when he pushed it open. The sound echoed in the main room of the building.
Copper looked up from behind the counter. The older man's eyes widened a fraction before his expression settled into something unreadable. He wiped his hands on a towel and stepped forward.
"Well," Copper said, voice slow and deep. "I'll be damned."
Moe didn't bother with a greeting. He shoved Jillian gently in front of him, keeping a hold of her. "I made it out," he said. "And I made it back."
"I can see that." Copper's gaze flicked to the girl and then back to Moe. "Who is she?"
Adrenaline shook off the weariness that had settled in him from running from the cops for weeks and living on the lam, stealing what he needed to eat, sleeping in short bursts whenever he could find somewhere to hide and lose the police hunting him.
"Finn had a woman. He got out. I was able to make it out with them, but I couldn't find the veil to get back on my own.
I kidnapped her and got back in. She's the key. "
Copper exhaled slowly, like he'd been expecting this and dreading it at the same time. He shook his head. "It's not that easy, Moe."
"The hell it isn't." He raised his voice. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"You're not thinking."
"For the first time, I am thinking. I can remember what it felt like on the other side. The rush. The high." A painful laugh burst from him. "Fucking hell, man, I was finally alive."
"No," Copper said, stepping closer. "Something worked. But not what you think."
The girl flinched when Copper's gaze landed on her again. She edged closer to Moe without realizing what she was doing. Moe felt the movement, the brush of her shoulder against his arm, and something hot and protective flared in his chest.
Copper's brows lifted before settling low. "You shouldn't have brought her here."
Moe bristled. "I needed her."
"For what?" Copper asked. "To open a rift you don't understand? To force your way through something that doesn't answer to force?"
Moe's grip tightened on the girl's shoulder. "She's the key," he repeated. "She got me out. She'll get me back there, so I can find Finn. We can all leave if we want."
Copper's gaze hardened. "Everstill doesn't work like that."
Moe's pulse kicked. "Then how does it work?"
Copper inhaled deeply, lingering his gaze on the girl. "This place keeps us because we let it. Because we're broken. Because we're empty. Because we don't have anything out there worth holding on to."
Moe's chest tightened. "But I found a way out."
Copper shook his head. "You had a storm. And you had timing. That's all."
Moe's jaw clenched. "Finn had a woman."
"Finn had more than that," Copper said. "He had someone who saw him. Someone who wanted him. Someone who loved him."
The girl pulled away from him. Moe tugged her closer.
Copper's voice dropped. "You think she's your key? She's not. She's a person. And Everstill doesn't open for just anyone. It opens for love."
Moe's stomach twisted. "I don't—"
"I know," Copper said gently. "You don't feel it. You don't understand it. That's what this place does to you. You're numb to your emotions, and every day you stay in Everstill makes you more complacent. But one day, you will experience feelings again."
The girl took a shaky breath, her eyes darting between the two men like she was trying to make sense of a language she didn't speak.
Copper stepped back, giving them space. "You brought her here," he said. "That means something. Maybe not what you think. But something."
Moe swallowed hard, his throat tight. He didn't want meaning. He wanted answers. He wanted the ability to leave. Yet the first chance he got after making it through the veil, he was fighting his way back to Everstill.
It was all too much. He needed the numbness back. He needed time to understand what was going on with him and how to survive.
He stared at the girl. She was scared and hugging herself tightly.
He understood what she was going through. Fear left her crippled and clinging to him, but he didn't have a name for what he was feeling.
It wasn't the high he'd received on the other side. Living on the edge, outrunning the police, surviving in a different world had filled him with... with life.
"You're not going back." Copper paused. "And she's not your key through the veil."
Moe's voice came out rough. "Then what is she?"
Copper's gaze softened. "A beginning."
Not willing to give up, Moe grabbed the girl's hand and pulled her through the restaurant and back outside. She stumbled after him, her breath hitching in small, broken sounds. The night air hit him, cool and still, the silence of Everstill settling around him like deadweight.
"I want to go home," she whispered thinly.
He didn't slow. He didn't look at her. He left the Harley at the curb and kept walking, dragging her along the empty street. Copper didn't know what the fuck he was talking about.
Finn had made it out. He'd seen it with his own eyes.
Without the girl, he wouldn't have made it back. He'd found the veil and traveled through with her.
It didn't matter what Copper said. Moe knew the girl was his key through the shadow seam.
Soft sobs broke beside him, slowing his steps. He looked at the girl. Her face was blotchy. Her shoulders shook with each breath. She looked fragile.
She would get used to Everstill. Soon, she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't wish to go home. She'd be content to live here until he needed her to travel through the veil with him again.
"Come on," he muttered, pulling her forward.
He led her down the street to his house. It was a small, plain place with a porch light that never burned out. He pulled her up the three steps and reached for the door. The moment he opened it, she cried out and yanked against his hold, panic flaring bright in her eyes.
Her fight was weak compared to his determination. He circled her waist with one arm and hefted her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her inside as she kicked uselessly against him. The door swung shut behind them with a dull thud.
She broke free the second her feet hit the floor, scrambling back until her spine hit the wall. She pressed herself against it, chest heaving, eyes wild.
He stalked toward her, the floorboards creaking under his boots. When she tried to turn her face away, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him.
Tears rolled down her cheeks in a steady stream. Her blue eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with fear and exhaustion. She looked like she'd been crying for hours.
In the back of his mind, he understood he'd committed a crime. A big one. But no one could touch him in Everstill. No cops. No laws. No consequences.
"Stop your crying," he growled.
She babbled between sobs. The words tumbled out in broken pieces. "I want to go home—I want my mom—please—I don't want to be here—please—"
The more he waited for her to control herself, the harder she cried. Her whole body shook with fear, her hands covering her face like she could hide from him, from this place, from everything.
"What's your name?" he demanded.
She hiccupped, breath catching. "J-Jillian," she whispered. "Jillian Emerson."
He let the name settle in his mind. Jillian. It fit her. Soft and feminine.
"How old are you?"
She hesitated, eyes darting away. "Twenty."
He stilled. Barely grown. Barely anything. Too young to be alone. Hell, she probably lived with her parents. She had people missing her.
His grip softened without him meaning to. He released her hair and stepped back a fraction, giving her space to breathe.
"Use the bathroom," he said, voice rough. "Clean your face. Take a shower. Do whatever you need to do to calm down. I'll get you something to eat."
She blinked at him, sniffling, obviously unsure whether to trust the shift in his tone. He pointed down the short hallway. "Bathroom's there."
She hesitated, then edged past him, keeping her back to the wall until she reached the door. She slipped inside and closed it quietly, the click of the latch sounding loud in the small house.
Moe rubbed his hand over his face. He didn't know what the hell he was doing. He didn't know why he cared if she cried or not. He just knew he needed her to calm down before he lost his damn mind.
Fucking hell, he thought she was older.
She was twenty. Practically a baby.
He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. An unopened container of milk sat on the top shelf. A package of half-thawed ground hamburger. A dozen eggs. Everything looked fresh, like he hadn't been gone for weeks.
He stepped to the side and opened the cabinet. A loaf of bread waited inside, soft and fresh, and unopened.
Everstill had stocked his house.
Just like the grocery store always stocked itself.
This place took care of its men.
And now it would take care of Jillian.