Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
The firework display is over all too quickly, the night sky once again cast into inky darkness as sulfur and smoke ride the light breeze, wrapping around me like a death shroud. It feels momentous, like the start of my final chapter in Deadwood.
I’m really doing it. I’m finally leaving this place…
“That was definitely worth the ass-chewing I’m going to get from Dad later,” Noah says, mussing my hair to snap me from my thoughts of Austin.
I nod and push my long bangs out of my face. “Agreed.”
With his opposite hand, Noah claps Ryker on the shoulder. “There’s a spigot up here, right? I need to wash this beer-vomit off my shirt.”
Ryker flinches, his reaction to being touched so subtle I don’t think my brother even notices, but I do. Our eyes meet for the briefest second, and I’d swear his cheeks darken before he looks away.
“The valve is at the base of the tower,” Ryker replies coolly. “I’ll go with you.”
“Not you too,” Noah says through an exaggerated groan. “I’ve already got one babysitter, and I’m comin’ right fuckin’ back.” He gives his best friend’s shoulder a final squeeze and disappears down the walkway.
Sighing, I start to follow but stop when Ryker laughs.
“What?” I snap.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he says with a snort and disapproving shake of his head. “He’s fine, let him go.”
My eyes trail Noah’s descent for another beat before I reluctantly force myself to look away. Dammit , he’s right—I was trying to take care of my brother. Again .
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I respond with feigned innocence and a hair flip. “I was just going to check out the rest of the water tower.”
Ryker lifts a brow.
“Oh, shut up.” I push his shoulder playfully, like I would Isabel’s or Noah’s, and he winces, shying away with a small shudder… as if I’d struck him.
My chest pinches as I drop my hand and curl my fingers. “How does it work?”
Jaw hard, Ryker turns toward the railing. “How does what work?”
“You had me over your shoulder earlier and you were fine.” I flush at the memory of his hand on my ass. “But now I barely touch you and you…”
“Flinched like a little bitch? Yeah, I know.” He laughs humorlessly. “I don’t have a problem with being touched. I just like to be the one to initiate it.”
That’s interesting. I wonder…
Stepping closer, I lean forward and rest my elbow on the railing next to his, close enough for the hairs on his arm to brush my jacket, but not so close that our arms actually touch. I know I shouldn’t push him, but if he can call me on my bullshit, why can’t I do the same?
“So, you like to be in control. Is that it?” I brush my arm ever so slightly against his.
“No, I—” Ryker starts to pull away, then stills, glancing down and then back at my face. “Clever.” His eyebrows lift, his expression a mix between surprised and impressed. “Yeah, I guess I do like to be in control.”
“Me too,” I sigh.
“Could have fooled me,” Ryker says through a moonlit smirk.
“Fine, I’ll bite,” I drawl, tone heavy with exasperation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I follow the movement of his corded arm as he reaches into his pocket and extracts a pack of Marlboro Reds and his silver boot-shaped lighter. He tucks a cigarette between his lips but doesn’t light it.
“It means I think you’ve been waiting for someone to step up and take the reins, or at least share the burden and give you a goddamn break every now and then, but no one ever does.”
I laugh, but my tight throat makes it sound strained. “Do you have a degree in psychology I’m not aware of?”
Ryker shrugs, the cigarette now stuck to his lower lip bobbing with his response. “I don’t need a degree to point out the glaringly obvious. Noah’s trapped in an endless cycle of beating himself up over what happened to you. Your dad works himself to the bone so he won’t have to face his guilt over letting it happen in the first place. And you… Well, you’ve been running around for years trying to make up for something that was never your fault to begin with. All of you need a fucking break. That’s too much for one person.”
A humorless laugh slides from his downturned lips as he gestures vaguely in my direction. “I mean, look at you. You’re so fucking sick of having to take care of everything you’re probably planning on leaving it all behind and running away from this place the first chance you get. So yeah, I’d say you hate having to be in control.”
Stripped bare by his psychological scrutiny, I cross my arms over my chest, my jaw hanging open for a few solid seconds until I regain the ability to form words. “You don’t know anything about me,” I say with a less-than-ladylike snort—because how else do you respond to an accusation that presumptuous? Especially since he’s wrong. I’m running away from Deadwood because it’s the shittiest place on earth. Not because of my family.
Leaning on his elbow, Ryker angles his body toward mine. “Princess, I know more about you than you do about yourself.”
This time, I laugh in his face. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”
“Because I am you.” He shakes his head, like he’s disappointed I didn’t make the connection myself.
Affronted, I take a small step backward. Besides our affection for our siblings, Ryker and I are nothing alike. I’m a rule follower, he’s a menace to society. I rarely take risks, he thrives off them. I am neat and orderly, he is a chaotic storm.
Then again, I was the one sneaking drinks while Ryker stayed sober tonight. It was also me who essentially started the bar fight, and he was the one who got us out of there…
Ryker squints. “You really don’t see it, do you?” he asks, tone low, almost hurt. “You don’t see how I’ve spent my entire life paying for the actions of others—spent every waking second trying to protect my brother and sister…”
He drops his head and scoffs. “You know what, forget it. It’s not like any of us are going to change anyway. Your dad and brother will never stop feeling guilty. You and I will never go after anything we fucking want in life because we’re too busy making sure everyone else is okay. I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath.”
Cupping the air around his unlit cigarette, he brings the lighter to his mouth but pauses, his eyes glinting in the moonlight as he lifts an inquisitive brow in my direction.
I’m so hung up on how much he and I actually do have in common and so distracted by the heavy feeling weighing on my chest, it takes me longer than it should to realize he’s asking me for permission to smoke.
“Go ahead,” I say, thrown a little by how quickly he went from basically telling me off to checking in—or that he would check in at all .
“You sure?” He waits, scanning my face.
“Yeah, the wind will carry most of it off. I need to get used to this sort of thing for school anyway.” I nod my confirmation and lower my brow. “Can’t let a little cigarette smoke stop me from going after the things I fucking want in life ,” I tack on, sarcastically wobbling my head as I do a terrible impression of his deep voice.
Ryker’s lips crack into a smile. “In that case, do you want to light it?”
Unfurling his fingers, he holds the lighter in his outstretched palm, the silver boot gleaming in the pale moonlight. For the briefest moment, my mind is filled with the image of a hundred flickering candles and a wall of flame. The scars on my back tighten and my stomach twists. But then I blink, and the image is gone.
There is absolutely zero part of me that wants to light Ryker’s stupid cigarette, but I do want to prove him wrong—prove I can change—so I snatch the damn lighter out of his hand and stare at him defiantly.
“How do I work this thing?”
I wait for him to make a joke at my expense, or at least say something snarky about not knowing how to do something as simple as use a lighter, but he does neither. Instead, he takes the cigarette from his mouth and places it behind his ear.
“It’s easy, you just use your thumb to press down on the spark wheel.” He grabs the silver boot, pressing his thumb in a downward motion over the circular mechanism on the side until a tiny flame flicks to life before winking out of existence just as quickly. It happens so fast I barely flinch, although my pulse does kick up a notch.
“It’s a little finicky, but once you get a flame, hold down the button to keep it going.” He must sense my unease because he leans forward, the loose strands of his wind-blown raven hair falling into his eyes. “It won’t hurt you. See?” He strikes the lighter again, this time bringing it up to his mouth and letting the fire flick back and forth across his outstretched tongue .
I should be afraid, but like a moth to a flame, I inch forward, my low belly clenching as the urge to rise up on my tiptoes and capture his mouth with mine becomes overwhelming.
The wind picks up, and the lighter sputters out. Ryker tries to restart it but only gets sparks. “Come here,” he orders, snaking his arms around my waist and spinning me so that my back is pressed against his chest to create a shield from the wind.
It happens so fast I don’t have time to overthink it, which is kind of thrilling. Everyone is always so gentle and cautious with me, but not Ryker.
“Your turn.” He leans down, tilting my chin so I’m looking up at him as he lifts the lighter toward my mouth. I nod, but my limbs tremble with nervous anticipation.
Eyes locked on mine and with a softness in his expression I didn’t think him capable of, he strokes my cheek with his thumb. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I nod again, this time more confidently because for some crazy reason, I believe him.
“Good girl,” he says with a satisfied smirk that has my belly erupting with the phantom flutter of a thousand butterfly wings. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue for me.”
With my back still pressed against his chest and his thick arms barricaded around me, I slowly extend my tongue, never letting my gaze stray from his—not even when he brings the lighter to my chin and strikes the start.
I jump, every muscle in my body contracting as the lighter sparks to life, but there is no pain. In fact, I can barely feel the warmth dancing across the tip of my tongue.
My gaze drifts from the fire up to Ryker, the exhilaration blossoming low in my stomach making me feel feverish. He only keeps the flame going for a second, but by the time he pulls the lighter away, I’m already bouncing on my toes.
I feel invincible. Alive .
“I did it!” I squeal, cheeks straining under the stretch of my massive smile as I turn to face him.
“Fuck yeah, you did.” Ryker’s grin sets off an explosion of fireworks inside my chest. The approval and genuine excitement in his tone is so tangible that it sends a pulse of warmth radiating beneath my skin. I sigh in contentment—although I can barely hear it over the blood whooshing through my ears.
Adrenaline making me bold, I lean into him, my belly gently pressing against his groin as I stare into his eyes. “Do it again,” I breathe, desperate to chase more of this feeling. “ Please .”
Ryker sucks in a sharp breath, his chest hitching beneath my palm when I grab onto his shirt. Then his hands slide to my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh to grip me tighter.
My lips part in a silent gasp, and when his attention drops to my mouth, I forget how to breathe.
Releasing my hip, he trails a hand up the side of my neck and cups my jaw. We’re so close now his chest presses into mine each time he inhales.
Heart in my throat, I rise onto my toes?—
“Are you drunk?” he asks abruptly.
Dazed, I blink and draw my head back. “What? No. Of course not.”
Ryker just stares at me, brows scrunching together like he’s suddenly in pain.
Cocking my head to the side, I step out of his arms. I might’ve been buzzed earlier, and I definitely didn’t feel comfortable driving, but all of that has long since faded. Why is he asking me this now?
A muscle feathers in his jaw and then he roughly removes the cigarette from behind his ear, shoves it between his lips, and lights it himself—a cloud of smoke temporarily shrouding his features.
My stomach sinks. I thought he was going to let me do that…
Ryker’s cheeks hollow as he draws deeply from the cigarette, an orange glow tinting the opaque veil of tobacco rapidly filling the space between us. “You were drinking at Rib Cage,” he says with a bitter laugh. “That’s why you couldn’t drive earlier. That’s why you let me— Fucking hell .” Shaking his head, he takes another long drag.
“It was one drink.” I cross my arms, unsure why I’m even explaining myself… or why he’s acting like this.
Turning away from me, he leans on the railing and exhales a puff of smoke through his nostrils. “Doesn’t matter, I’m not interested.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Not interested in what? ”
“Don’t play coy, Princess.” He dips his chin in my direction. “Your brother would kill me if I touched you. And like I already said, I’m not interested.”
It takes my brain a second to reboot after short-circuiting. He can’t actually think I wanted him to— What, kiss me? No possible way. I was just caught up in the excitement of not freaking out about the lighter.
“You’re delusional,” I say with a snort, my ears growing ridiculously hot.
Ryker glances at me out of the corner of his eye and quirks a brow.
I stomp my foot like a child. “Listen, asshole, I wasn’t?—”
Ryker lunges forward, his massive body crowding my space until I can barely think, let alone breathe. “Stop talking,” he hisses, eyes wide and expression drawn as he backs me up against the rusty metal tank.
Head spinning, I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to ignore the physical and mental whiplash of his mood swings. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m?—”
“Fucking look ,” he whispers, pointing at the grassy field directly below us.
The wind picks up, howling through creaking branches while the ancient water tower sways ever so slightly. I can’t bring myself to follow his gaze, not when my muscles are already locking up at the sight of the growing orange glow reflected in his eyes…
I try to turn away, but Ryker grabs my chin, roughly pointing me toward the blaze burning in an almost perfect circle in the tall grass. My knees wobble and sweat drips down my lower back. The fire isn’t large, but it’s bright enough to illuminate the surrounding forest…and the six shadowed figures gathering amid its smoky tendrils.
I tell myself not to look, but I can’t tear my eyes away. Not when beyond the fire, barely visible against the distant black silhouette of the tree line, lies the Cartwright mansion. And beyond that, the ruins of Divine Mercy Bible Church where my mother tried to burn me alive.
Dread washes over me, extinguishing all traces of the elation from moments ago.
“ Fucking hell , I think they’re using some sort of accelerant to light the field on fire,” Ryker growls, cigarette dropping from his mouth as he leans so far over the railing his boots lift from the metal grate. “That’s the Crowes’ land, right?”
I hear him speaking, but I’m too busy trying to blink away the wall of flames rising up in my memory to respond. My body locks up and I stop breathing, my blood pounding into such a dizzying crescendo my knees give out and I stumble into Ryker’s back.
He flinches, but I grab onto his shirt anyway, burying my face before he can shrug me off. It’s selfish of me to hold on to him like this, but I can’t help it. All I can do right now is force myself to breathe so I don’t pass out and topple over the railing.
“ Shit ,” Ryker says, finally realizing I’m freaking the hell out. “It’s just like the lighter, Willa. I’m not going to let that fire hurt you.” He wraps his thick arm around my waist and presses me into his side.
“I want to leave,” I whimper, voice muffled against his shirt and the hard wall of muscle beneath. “ Please , can we find Noah and leave?”
“Yeah, okay. Promise me you won’t look at the field until we’re on the ground.”
I nod, concentrating on the honeysuckle and rain-soaked pine scent of his skin instead of the smoke already threatening to suffocate me.
Letting me use his body as a shield, Ryker leads me to the ladder where he pauses to tie my lemon-scented bandana around my nose and mouth. “You’ll tell me if you get dizzy on the way down?” he asks, gently making sure the knot is secure.
I think I nod, but I’m not really sure.
Eyes watering, I climb on the ladder after he does, focusing all my attention on the feel of his chest cocooned around my lower half during our slow descent. By some miracle, I manage to make it through the growing cloud of burnt foliage and the bitter tang of gasoline without falling to my death. When we reach the bottom, I can just make out the six shadows scurrying around the field through the white smoke billowing up around them like a bubbling cauldron.
My pulse picks up, my breath coming so quickly my head swims. “What are they doing?”
“I think they’re putting it out,” Ryker says, voice a mixture of concern and curiosity.
Holy shit , he’s right. I can’t see a single flame anymore… And here I am, still shaking in my boots like I’m about to die.
The sweat coating my skin turns sticky and oppressive. After the high of conquering the lighter on my tongue, I thought I was finally making some progress with my fear, but one glimpse of fire and it’s like I’ve taken ten steps backward.
I glance over to the Blazer where Noah is passed out on the hood, using the windshield as a backrest. He slept through the whole thing. God, why is that even more embarrassing?
“Let’s wake him up and get out of here,” I say with a downcast shake of my head.
“Shouldn’t we call the fire department?”
I wrap my arms around my middle, heart thudding against my forearms. “So Cooper Blackthorne and my dad can come yell at us? No, thank you. The fire’s already out, anyway.”
I sigh, still furious I let myself get so worked up. “That part of the Crowe Ranch butts right up to the Cartwright Estate. Idiot kids from all over come out here to vandalize the church and party in the surrounding woods. They probably ran out of beer and fireworks and are just messing around. I’ll tell the Crowes about it in the morning.”
“What if they’re not kids?” he asks through a grimace.
The little hairs on my neck stand on end. “Who the hell else would they be?”
Just then, low voices begin chanting, growing louder with each second, like the low roll of thunder from an approaching storm.
Every hair on my body stands at attention as my head snaps toward the sound, but there’s so much thick smoke lingering in the air, I can only tell that the shadows are fanning out, two of them moving in our direction. The breeze picks up, shifting some of the smoke…
My blood runs cold.
“Ryker, tell me you’re seeing this,” I whisper, already backstepping toward the car while I struggle to understand what I’m looking at. “Why are they wearing hooded robes?”
He doesn’t get a chance to answer before a woman’s voice slices through the night.
“Brothers and Sisters,” she calls out, gliding over the charred grass to the center of their newly formed circle. “We’ve come so far, but our work has just begun.”
A torch flickers to life in her hand, the flame licking skyward. Muscles tense, I take another quivering step toward the Blazer as she spreads the fire to the others in the group. One by one, their torches bloom in the darkness, smoldering bright orange and yellow against the black sky.
“This land is a blessing,” the woman bellows, voice scratchy with strain and face obscured by the shadow of her massive hood as she extends her hands and lights the last torch.
“The fire is a cleansing,” the others call back, raising their own flames in the air.
Ryker and I take one look at each other and sprint for the car.