18 Fletcher Strawberries—Caamp #3
Every moment we’ve shared, big and small, flashes in front of my eyes. All the clues I’ve missed. The hints that she held something dark behind her sealed lips. I knew something was wrong. But not this.
“Before I came to Hawkthorpe, I left my home when I discovered that my husband is a killer. He hurt someone, and I found the evidence he kept stashed for his own sick pleasure.”
Violence hums to life inside me.
That motherfucker.
I don’t have much left to offer this world, but the military gave me one thing. I’m broken enough to dispatch a person without a moment’s hesitation. This son of a bitch deserves to be erased.
“He’s still out there, searching for me.”
Blowing out a stunted breath, Everleigh glances at my expression.
“I know what it means to be so afraid, disappearing feels like the only option. That voice in your head is telling you there’s no other way out right now, and it’s screaming so loud . . . You can’t hear anything else.”
Her hand snaps out to capture mine, trembling hard.
“But I need you to hear this, Fletch. Please.”
The urge to run falters, then melts away. I should nip this in the bud now. Stand up and run full speed until I can find a place no one, not even her, can find me.
But the terror and grief raising an army in the green flecks that illuminate her orbs stop me from taking the easy way out. She’s afraid too. We both are. Scared of living one day to the next. I’m not alone in this living death.
“You are needed here,” she says emphatically. “You are loved. You are wanted. And taking those pills will never, ever make sense to the people you’ll leave behind. Voice or no fucking voice.”
Chin dipping, I fight back the moisture scorching my eyeballs.
“I’m not asking you to live for me, Fletch. The only person you can do that for is yourself. But I need you to know that falling for you is the reason I haven’t ended up in this very spot, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”
Fingers curl around mine, clenching so tight, her knuckles flash white. I relish the bite of her nails digging into my skin. Someone sees me. I’m not invisible. Even here at the end of the road.
Leaning in, my forehead presses into hers. I can feel her breath tickling my face. If I get close enough, perhaps she’ll be able to hear me. God, what I wouldn’t give to have a voice just to tell her what she means to me.
But is it enough?
I came out into these woods to remove my stain from this earth. I’m not like her husband, but I’ve still inflicted pain. I’ll continue to do so for as long as my damage spreads to those around me. She deserves better.
Eden . . . no, Everleigh’s mouth seizes mine in a salt-tinged plea. Her tears filter into my system, allowing her to reach a part of me kept hidden from the world. The same part that told me to come out here and end it all.
It stands to attention, hearing her pain and entwining it with my own. We share a mutual darkness. The kind that recognises its brethren. Her story doesn’t give me hope so much as murderous rage, but it drives a single point home.
Survival.
It’s the one thing people like us have.
The ability to outlast that sick joke, no matter how many times the world wants to play it on repeat. Still we stand. Bloodied and broken, but defying the voice that tells us to take an escape route.
“Come home,” she pleads.
I nudge her nose with mine, utterly torn.
“Everything feels hopeless right now. I get it. But I can’t face what’s coming without you, and I know the guys won’t either. We need you.”
No. I’m a failure. I can’t be needed.
“Whatever your mind is telling you, it’s wrong,” she whispers, gripping my jawline. “You’re the heart of this family. Don’t give up on us now.”
Another light kiss drives her point home, a dagger that embeds itself in my faltering brain and bleeds the invading poison dry. Feeling my cheeks moisten, I kiss her back, cradling her skull with utmost care.
Perhaps there’s something left for me in this life. If evil is coming for her, I can’t find peace knowing I’m leaving her in the path of danger. Not when I can do something about it.
Whatever’s coming will rue the day it chose my girl to be a victim. That is the last thing Everleigh Banks could ever be accused of. No matter her choices, she’s lived long enough to tell me the truth. The time is coming for her to tell the world next.
She’ll need protection from what she fled.
And I know a great many places to discreetly hide a body.
Licking my lips, I wrangle the ever-present ache in my oesophagus to use muscles that have long grown weak and flaccid. Nothing but air escapes. A tiny rasp that only makes me more determined to push harder despite the resulting agony.
She watches my mouth open and shut, clacking dryly with each attempt. I shouldn’t have lied to her. My scans are dire, but not without hope. I just never had a reason or desire to push past the agony until this moment.
“Will you come back with me?” Everleigh murmurs.
One single, monosyllabic rasp.
A fire-drenched whimper.
More pain than voice, but just audible.
“Y-Y-Y . . . Y-Yes.”