15. Annalise
Chapter fifteen
Annalise
The soldier looks to be about Hunter’s age, maybe a little younger. Dark hair. Crooked grin. He looks like the kind of man that’s permanently only seconds away from saying something stupid, or charming the socks off anyone in his vicinity.
His eyes move from Korr to me, then back to Korr questioningly.
“Well, well,” he says. “You didn’t tell me the recruit you were bringing with you is so beautiful.”
Korr’s expression goes flat. “Don’t.”
The soldier grins wider. “I’m just saying—It would explain why you took longer than necessary to get here.”
“Knock it off,” Korr barks, and I bite back a smile. Clearly these two know each other, and he knows exactly how to get under the Captain’s skin.
“So touchy,” he teases.
For some reason, I like him immediately—The Gods only know why.
Maybe it’s the easy grin or the way he talks to Korr without looking remotely intimidated…or maybe it’s because he has Mattey’s same reckless, irritating energy that’s made me want to punch him and laugh with him at the same time.
But whatever the reason may be, I find myself more at ease with him than I could have imagined, which is the only explainable reason I find myself telling Tyr to stand down when the soldier extends a hand in my direction and Tyr bares his fangs at him.
“Appreciate that! I thought Hunt here would be the only touchy one here today, but glad to see I can still be wrong from time to time. Anyway, I’m Dax.”
“Annalise.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Korr makes a low sound of warning, and to my disappointment, Dax releases my hand, conceding with both palms raised.
“What? I’m being friendly.”
“You're being annoying.”
“You’ll have to forgive my friend; he’s become a real bore since taking up his post at Scion. I swear he used to have a personality.”
I laugh before I can stop myself, Korr’s eyes cutting to mine—not sharply, just…surprised.
“Are you sure? I guess he thought since the military didn’t issue it that he must not need it anymore,” I tease, causing Dax’s grin to return even brighter than before.
“Oh, I like her.”
“You don’t know her.”
“Exactly! Makes it so much easier.”
Korr mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a prayer for patience.
Dax and I spend the next hour up here talking while Korr delivers the missive and handles whatever other military business brought us here.
He tells me about a disastrous training exercise he and Hunter were in together involving a lake, too much booze, and overactive imaginations that had them all running into camp screaming warnings of monsters in the water, only to find it was an old tree stump poking out of the water, its branches formed perfectly in the shape of demon horns.
I laugh more than I expect to, which surprises me as much as it annoys Korr when he returns.
“This is work, not time for you two to braid each other's hair and tell exaggerated old stories.”
“Exaggerated, huh? So you didn’t really save Dax from a burning building and then declare he owes you first shot the next time you go hunting together?
Hunter’s facial expressions change too quickly to decipher their meanings, but once he’s settled back on the stoic Captain, he gives Dax a pointed look.
“Guess that’s my cue to leave, Trouble. Don’t let the serious face trick you; he likes long walks on the beach as much as the next guy.”
Korr stops walking, his eyes bouncing between Dax and me.
“What?”
“Goodbye, Lieutenant.”
Dax laughs. “Safe flight, Captain.”
Korr shakes his head, but still, as we mount, I catch myself smiling.
It feels strange, like finding an old shirt in the back of a drawer and realizing it still fits, even though I feel like a completely different person than the girl who used to wear it.
The return flight is quieter as we head home south this time, finally skirting the worst of the storm.
The afternoon sun breaks through the clouds, painting the landscape beneath us gold. I’m staring down when something familiar catches my eye.
My stomach drops instantly.
A cluster of buildings. A narrow road. The old grain mill. The river. The bridge.
We’re above South Hollow.
My entire body goes rigid.
Korr notices; of course he fucking does. “You’re from South Hollow, right?”
It isn’t really a question, but still I nod.
For several seconds, neither of us says anything.
South Hollow looks so small from up here, almost harmless.
That’s the cruelest part. From this height, it doesn’t look like the kind of place that would allow a sadistic man to starve or beat a young girl. It doesn’t look like the kind of place that would not only harbor her nightmare, but would also give him the power to determine other people’s fate.
Korr glances over at me, voice casual. “Anyone you want to stop and see? We have a little time to spare.”
The offer catches me off guard, not because I want to stop, but because he offered.
“No.”
His gaze stays on me. “You sure?”
“Yeah. There’s not really anyone,” I admit, swallowing hard.
He doesn’t say anything, and somehow, that makes it easier to keep talking.
“I used to work at a gym just outside town. It was actually a really good place. The people were nice. Normal. Some of them were annoying as hell, but…” I shrug, smiling. “They were good people.”
“You still talk to them?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
“You mean other than the fact that they all think I’m a murderer? I don't know.”
I look down at the little buildings passing beneath us.
“Honestly? I never really hung out with them outside of work even before that.”
Korr remains quiet.
“It was always just me and Mattey. When we weren't in school, we were at work. When we weren't at work, we were together. That was pretty much it.” I let out a small laugh. “We were kind of a package deal.”
Korr's mouth quirks. “I can see that.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing...it’s just…that doesn’t really seem to have changed.”
Neither of us says anything else as I watch South Hollow disappear behind us.
Nearly an hour later, Kali’s leading Tyr down toward a tiny stretch of nothing.
A dirt road. A handful of trees. And…a food truck?
“What the hell is that?”
“A late lunch.”
“You found a food truck in the middle of nowhere?”
“Technically, it found me.”
I climb down and stare at the little metal trailer parked beneath a crooked wooden sign.
Korr walks toward it like this is perfectly normal.
“How?”
“A friend introduced me to it a few years ago.”
“Your friend just happened to know about a food truck in the wilderness?”
“He has questionable judgment, but the food is to die for.”
Far quicker than I expected, the food is in front of us, and I’m tempted to ask the cook to marry me just so she can cook for me for the rest of my life.
We sit at a weathered picnic table beside the truck, our bonded resting nearby.
For the first time all day, I feel like I can relax. I’m just here with delicious food, sunlight beaming down on me, and the distant sound of wings shifting against the grass.
And Hunter.
“How are you feeling?” he asks as he takes a sip of his drink.
“Fine.”
His eyebrow lifts. “No one says fine and actually means fine.”
I sigh.
“I'm getting better.”
“You look more like yourself.”
Something about the words he said catches me off guard.
“Sometimes I feel like I am. And then a few hours or even the next day…” I shake my head. “I don't.”
He doesn't say anything.
“Sometimes it's stupid things. One of the instructors will write me a note explaining something like they don’t expect me to meet the same standards they hold everyone else to. One of my friends will send me a message like I’m a delicate doll that’s already so broken, it’ll shatter if the wind blows the wrong way. ”
“They don't think you're broken.”
“I know.” I look up, tears I’m infuriatingly unable to control gliding down my cheeks. “I know they don't mean to. But they do it anyway.”
Korr's expression shifts.
“They're careful around me. They watch me. They ask if I'm okay every five minutes.” I laugh once, without humor. “And sometimes I appreciate it. Sometimes I really do.”
I look toward Tyr. “But other times, it makes me feel like I'm standing outside my own life, watching everyone else live it.”
Korr's jaw tightens, “Annalise—”
“And then I'll be in the woods,” I continue, needing to get it all off my chest finally.
“A stick will snap.” The memory hits hard enough that I feel it in my soul. “And suddenly I'm there again.”
The forest. The attack. The helplessness.
My fingers curl into my palms as I take deep breaths.
“One second I'm fine. The next, I can't breathe. My counselor keeps telling me I need to slow down.”
Korr leans forward slightly. “Have you considered she might be right?”
I shake my head.
“She might be, but I need to be ready.”
Korr looks at me, the search for the right words to say evident on his face.
“I need to be ready,” I repeat. “Because everything that’s happened to me doesn't get to decide what happens next.”
“I'm not saying it does.”
“I know,” I say, my eyes finally meeting his. “I've lived through trauma before. And I know this is different. I'm not pretending it isn't. But I've learned how to compartmentalize. How to take the pieces I can't deal with yet and put them somewhere safe until I can.”
Korr watches me carefully. “That's not always healthy.”
“Probably not.” I give him a faint smile. “But it's how I survived. It’s how I can stand to face myself in the mirror and how I can take every single fucked up thing I’ve survived and DECIDE they don’t get to control me.”
He’s silent as I continue, “I don't want to be benched.”
“You won’t be.”
“But I am…Don’t get me wrong, I'm not stupid enough to think I'm going to wake up tomorrow and magically be exactly where I was before.” My throat tightens. “It'll take time—but it’ll take even longer if everyone keeps walking on eggshells around me.”
Korr leans back slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. “Just stop worrying about what everyone else thinks.”
I blink.
His voice is quieter now. “You don't have to prove you're not broken every second of every day.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I don't answer, because I don't. Not really.
“You don't have to be ready for everything. You just have to be ready for the next thing.”
For some reason, that lands harder than it should.
“You know, when you’re not being a complete asshat, you’re annoyingly reasonable.”
“I've been told that before,” he laughs.
“By Dax?”
“Frequently.”
I laugh, and Korr's mouth curves slightly.
For a few minutes, neither of us says anything as we sit beneath an enormous sky, eating food from a truck in the middle of nowhere.
It isn't friendship, but it also isn't anything else.
We’re just two people who don't quite know each other, sitting across from one another and, somehow, understanding a little more than they did when they left the house this morning.
Eventually, Korr stands, hand stretched to help me up.
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
“Home,” I repeat softly as I walk to mount a still-lying-down Tyr.