Chapter 13
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Moe
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Moe hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. Dirt, gravel, and cold air slammed into him at once. For a second, Moe couldn't move. Then he choked, coughing to catch his breath.
With oxygen came reality. Jillian.
He rolled, pain shooting down his side, and found her sprawled beside him, limp, hair fanned across the ground like she'd been dropped from the sky.
"Jillian." His voice came out rough, scraped raw from all the screaming. He pushed himself up on shaking arms and reached for her. "Come on, sweetheart. Breathe."
Her chest rose. Shallow and uneven, but it rose.
Relief punched through him so hard he closed his eyes for a second. She was alive. She was breathing. She was here.
They made it out of Everstill, and he wasn't alone this time.
His lungs inflated with air the perfect temperature, not too heavy and stale like in Everstill. There was no hum beneath the ground. No veil watching from the edges.
At one time, this was his world. There were parts of his life he'd forgotten.
He no longer knew how to live without a routine, without some sort of housing and food available.
He needed people around him to remind him how a community worked together, or he'd fall back on his old life of running from the law constantly.
When he'd followed Finn and Kallie through the veil, he spent weeks riding around, hiding from the cops, sleeping in alleys, and searching for his way back to Everstill. He never stopped long enough to look at anything.
Now he was here again, and for the first time, he could actually live here and find out his past.
His success at making it through the veil should've given him freedom. But he needed Jillian's help.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his hand trembling despite how hard he tried to steady it. "Come on, Jillian. Wake up. I need you to wake up."
She didn't stir.
He swallowed hard, scanning the area. They were in a clearing. Trees blocked one side, and there was a road on the other. Cars drove by without stopping.
Civilization.
Too close.
Too exposed.
If anyone recognized him and called the cops, he'd be gone before Jillian even opened her eyes.
He leaned over her, shielding her with his body, listening for footsteps, engines, anything.
He looked down at her again, at the soft rise and fall of her chest, at the way her fingers twitched like she was dreaming.
He'd dragged her through hell and brought her into danger. He'd promised to keep her safe. And now he had to do it in a world that wanted him in prison.
"Jillian," he whispered, voice breaking in a way he didn't let anyone hear. "Please wake up. I can't do this without you."
The wind rustled the leaves overhead.
Jillian's eyelids fluttered, then squeezed shut again as if the light hurt. Moe forced his breathing to steady, forced the panic down deep where she couldn't see it. She didn't need his fear on top of everything else.
Her fingers twitched against the dirt. Then she sucked in a shaky breath and whispered, "Moe...?"
"Yeah." He leaned closer, keeping his voice low. "I'm here."
She blinked up at him, pupils blown wide, trying to focus. "What happened?"
"You crossed through the veil," he said. "We made it."
She pushed up on her elbows, wincing. Her gaze swept over him, and she froze.
"Moe," she whispered, horror creeping into her voice. "You're bleeding."
He looked away, jaw tightening. He could feel the dried blood crusted along his cheekbone, a cut stinging above his brow, and the metallic taste oozing from the corner of his mouth. His ribs ached like something had cracked. His shoulder throbbed from the landing.
"I'm fine," he said, too quickly.
She lifted her hand toward his face, hesitated, then touched the edge of the cut with trembling fingers. "This isn't fine."
He swallowed hard and gently caught her wrist, lowering her hand. "I've had worse."
He pushed himself to his feet, biting back a grunt as pain shot through his side. He stretched, trying to work the stiffness out of his muscles, pretending it didn't hurt as much as it did.
Jillian watched him with wide, worried eyes.
He couldn't look at her. Not when she looked at him like that.
Instead, he turned toward the motorcycle lying on its side a few feet away. The handlebars were twisted, and the frame was scraped, but it was still rideable if he could get it started again. He limped over and braced himself before hauling it upright.
The effort ripped a groan out of him before he could stop it.
"Moe..." Jillian's voice was soft, pained.
He ignored the way she spoke his name and checked the bike. In Everstill, she barely talked to him. But here, his name sounded good on her tongue.
"We need to get out of here," he said. "Fast."
She pushed herself to her feet, swaying a little. He studied her carefully, making sure she wasn't bleeding or hurt worse.
"Do you know where we are?" he asked.
She scanned the trees, the road, the distant traffic, and shook her head. "Nothing looks familiar."
"We have to be close to a city. The road will lead us somewhere."
Jillian turned in a slow circle, taking in the clearing, the trees, the sky. Her brow furrowed. "I don't recognize any of this."
A cold knot tightened in Moe's gut.
She looked back at him, voice barely above a whisper. "Could the veil have taken us somewhere else?"
He hated the way her voice shook. Hated that he didn't have an answer that would make her feel safe.
"I don't know." He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "We'll ride until something looks familiar. We'll figure it out."
She nodded, but he could see the fear behind her eyes. Their thoughts were running the same path. If she couldn't get home, they would both be homeless and on the run.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Hey. Look at me."
She moved closer.
"We're out," he said. "We made it. And I'm not letting anything happen to you here. Not in your world. Not in mine."
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the fear in her eyes softened to worry, but she nodded.
Her trust in him made his chest ache.
He cleared his throat and swung a leg over the bike. "Come on. Before someone drives by and starts to wonder what we're doing in the clearing."
She climbed on behind him, arms sliding around his waist. He revved the engine, ignoring the pain that shot through his ribs.
"Tell me if you see anything you recognize," he said.
She pressed against his back. He rode toward the road, taking the Harley up onto the asphalt. His senses were on high alert.
He was a wanted man on the run.