Chapter Thirty
Dallas
“God damn it!” I come down hard with the ax, missing the wood and almost chopping my foot off.
Who the hell does she think she is, psychoanalyzing me like that? Like I don’t know what I’m doing and why I’m here. She had no right to answer my phone. No business going back in the room after she knew good and well what was in there. No place to try and compare the level of grief we might be feeling.
“Shit.” I turn my back to the cabin, sit on my chopping stump, take my gloves off, and rub my hands across my face.
She lost a child. She lost a child too. How long ago?
That ever-present hum in the back of my mind—the one that reminds me of Phoebe and DJ over and over again—it’s as loud as a fucking chainsaw right now.
I wish she’d never come here. She’s ruining everything.
Snow begins falling. I look up at the sky and wonder if I want it to continue or not.
Not . I shake my head. Definitely not.
Things need to go back to the way they were before this tornado of a woman crashed into my life. I’m perfectly fine being out here by myself. I could stay here forever if I need to.
My thoughts turn to Abe. Only this time, when I picture him, dead and frozen, I see myself. Long hair, burly beard, old… and alone. I close my eyes knowing that’s not how I want to go out of this world, but also knowing it may be how I deserve to.
“I thought you might need some coffee.”
My eyes snap open to see Marti, all bundled up, holding out a steaming mug.
She shrugs. “Consider it a peace offering. I… I’m sorry, Dallas. I crossed the line. It wasn’t my place to say those things. People grieve in different ways, and I shouldn’t have tried to compare—”
She stops talking when my eyes completely bulge out of my head and I look beyond her.
“Dallas?”
“Marti, listen to me. Do not scream. Do not run. Do exactly as I say.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” she asks, stiffening into a statue.
“No sudden movements.” I stand slowly, my heart splintering up my throat. “Walk toward me slowly and casually. Get right behind me.”
She turns her head to see what I’m focusing on. When she sees the black bear standing only twenty feet behind her, the coffee cup falls to the ground, liquid darkening the snow by her feet, and she stifles a cry.
“Marti, get behind me,” I implore through gritted teeth.
She’s visibly shaking, but not from the cold. And she’s frozen in place, unable to move.
Visions flash before me. Her screaming. The bear attacking. Me unable to stop him from mauling her body. Her laying lifeless on the ground, blood slowly turning the snow red like a sick, twisted version of a snow cone.
You can’t lose her.
You can’t lose her too.
My knowledge of black bears and what to do when confronted by one kicks in. I carefully stand up on the stump, making myself look as large as possible. “Now, Marti. Get behind me. No sudden movements.”
I keep the tone of my voice low and casual knowing you shouldn’t be loud around black bears, not unless an attack is imminent. Right now, I think he’s just curious.
That knowledge doesn’t help much, though, when Marti is standing between him and me and the entire last eight days flash through my mind.
“I don’t think I can move,” she says in a pained whisper, fear hindering her voice.
I hold my hand out and down. “Step forward. Two steps and I’ll have you. Slowly. You can do it.” I avert my eyes from the bear and focus on her. Tears cascade down her cheeks. “You’ve got this, sweetheart. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”
There’s that word again. Promise . Only this time, I swear on my own life that I mean it. I’m not going to let anything hurt her. I won’t let anything hurt her ever .
Her left foot shuffles forward.
“That’s it,” I say. “Just another few steps.”
She shuts her eyes, takes a deep breath, and closes the few feet between us.
I grasp her cold, trembling hand in mine. “Good. Now get behind me.” I turn to the bear. “Hey, bud. There’s nothing to see here,” I say calmly. “We don’t have any food. You might as well be on your way.”
“You’re… talking to him?” Marti asks from behind.
“Bear Encounters 101,” I tell her. “If you speak to them, they know you’re human and not another animal. And see how he’s standing on his hind legs? That means he’s curious, not threatening.”
“How come that doesn’t make me feel better?”
I laugh quietly, because at this moment I’m shitting my pants too.
I’ve seen bears over the years. Plenty of them. Mostly from afar. They aren’t aggressive like grizzlies, but that doesn’t mean we should be inviting him for dinner. Oh, shit, food . I have a granola bar in my pocket. I always keep a stash there for when I’m working outside. Can he smell it? I don’t dare give it to him. It would be like feeding a stray cat—he’d never leave.
I run different scenarios in my head. We could slowly back away and go for the cabin. But it’s thirty feet in the other direction. What if he follows us? I should stay here and send Marti by herself. That way I could distract the bear from watching or going after her. But she’d have to walk around the truck, and what if he—
The truck . It’s right behind us. And it’s unlocked.
“Marti, I want you to get into the truck. It’s behind you and to the right. If you back up ten steps, you should be at the front bumper. Don’t waste time going around to the other side. And don’t go to the cabin. The truck is unlocked. Get in and you’ll be safe. Lock the door. Bears know how to open them.”
“If bears know how to open them, why do you leave it unlocked?”
I turn my head and look at her. “That’s what you want to argue about? Jesus, Marti, just get in the goddamn truck. I need you safe.”
“What about you?”
“I’m bigger than he is up here. He won’t attack.” I think . “Now go.”
Keeping an eye on the bear, I watch her in my periphery as she backs away, reaches the truck and gets inside. The relief that floods through me is palpable.
Okay, now what? Will he come closer if I get off the stump and go toward the truck? Do I just stay here until he leaves? I lift my arms over my head, trying to make myself look even bigger. “There’s nothing here for you, dude.”
A sound startles me. Oh, shit, it’s Bex . He’s seen the bear from inside and is barking his head off.
The bear gets down on all fours. This is not good . He starts slowly walking toward me. Does he think I’m making the noise? I am directly in between him and the cabin. Shit. Shit. Shit.
My heart thunders in my chest, pounding so hard I fear it will explode.
I hear another noise behind me. The distinct sound of the door to my truck opening. No!
“Get in!” Marti whisper-shouts.
I risk glancing over. She’s got the door wide open. Ten steps. If I jump down and run over, I might be able to get in before the bear registers what’s happening.
When I look back at the bear, he’s now looking at the open door to the truck.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I say, then leap off the stump, covering at least half the distance in the air. When I hit the ground, I sprint the last few steps and dive into the back seat, reaching back to close and lock the door behind me just as the bear’s face appears on the other side of the glass.
With my heart still beating out of my chest, arms wrap around me from behind, squeezing me tightly. I turn and embrace her, air swelling my lungs in a cleansing breath.
She pulls away and starts pounding on my chest. “You son of a bitch!” she yells. “You could have died. What would I have done?” Her eyes glisten with tears. “You could have died. I can’t… I can’t… do this without you.”
I tug her close and envelop her in my arms. “Shhh. It’s okay. We’re okay. We’re safe.”
“For now. What about later? What if he comes back? What if cell service goes out and you have to climb the tower? What if you’re alone and need help? Dallas, what if—”
I do the only thing I can think of to shut her up. I kiss her. I pull her onto my lap and kiss her as hard as I ever have. I tell her with my lips, my mouth, my tongue, that everything is going to be okay. And she tells me with hers that everything she said is true. That she worries about me. That she wants to protect me as much as I want to protect her. That she… loves me?
I draw back and look deep into her eyes, searching for the answer to the question while at the same time wondering what I really want it to be.
No matter what the answer is, one thing I know to be true is that I’m not capable of love. I can’t give her what she needs. What she deserves. She deserves everything. She deserves so much more than I could ever offer her. But I can offer her this, here, now.
The ticking clock in my head makes another appearance. Two days , my inner voice echoes. Two more days I have her. And I vow to make every minute of those days count. Because all those minutes, they might have to last me a lifetime.