Brothersong (Green Creek #4) - T.J. Klune Page 0,37
up suddenly, my shorts slipping on his hips. I stared a beat too long at the dark hair on his chest and stomach. He snarled at me. “You’re better. I fixed you. You leave. Now. Go away.”
I blinked. “What? I’m not going to fucking leave. I just got here! You take off like it’s nothing and make me track you all over the goddamn continent, and you think I’m going to leave?”
“Yes.”
“Not happening.”
“Why?”
I looked him straight in the eyes. “You know why. Whether you like it or not, and fuck knows I don’t, you’re my m—”
One moment he was standing by the chair. The next he was in front of me, the blanket around his shoulders fluttering to the floor. His knees bumped into mine, and he gripped my face harshly, fingers digging into my cheeks. “Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t. Don’t say it. Nothing. You are nothing. I am nothing.”
I reached up and gripped his wrist. My thumb pressed against his pulse point, and it felt like thunder.
His eyes widened, and he jerked his arm back, stumbling away as if I’d scalded him. He whirled around and stalked toward the door. He paused with his hand on the latch. “Leave,” he said without turning around. “Don’t be here. When I get back.”
I squinted against the morning light as he opened the door, then slammed it behind him. Motes of dust sprinkled down from the ceiling as the walls shook.
“Shit,” I whispered.
I FOUND THE REMNANTS of my ruined jeans sitting in a pile in the corner, the stench of blood wafting off them. They’d been shredded like someone had taken a knife to them.
Or claws.
I tilted my head, listening.
All I could hear were the sounds of a forest alive in the throes of an early winter. Somewhere in the distance, leaves rustled as an animal moved through them. I didn’t hear the heavy drum of Livingstone’s heart or the sounds of his son.
I went to a window and looked outside.
There was a thin layer of snow on the ground. Icicles hung from the trees. The glass was cold against my fingers. I couldn’t see a road, only thick forest. I didn’t know where we were in relation to the house. To my truck. I could probably find it if needed.
But if he thought I was just going to leave after all this time, he was in for a rude awakening.
I went back to my bag and opened it up. There, sitting on the top, was my phone.
It was smashed, the screen cracked.
I stared down at it.
It’d been in my truck. I hadn’t taken it out into the house.
Which meant the hunters hadn’t touched it.
It’d been broken after.
“Asshole.” I took it out of the bag and tried to power it on. Nothing happened.
I tossed it to the side, looking back to my bag. What few possessions I’d brought with me were still there, minus the shorts. I found the item I was looking for at the bottom.
It was soft and warm. I glanced toward the door. I didn’t hear Gavin. I pulled the hoodie out and raised it to my face, inhaling deeply. The scent had faded after so long, but I chased after it greedily. Just when I was about to give up, I smelled it.
Home.
Kelly.
“What the hell do I do now?” I asked him. A year. I’d had a year to get to this point. A year to plan for what would happen if and when I found him. And now that I had, I was at a loss. I didn’t know why I’d thought he’d make it easy. He was a Livingstone. I was a Bennett. We never made things easy.
Kelly didn’t answer.
I put the hoodie on. It was tight in the shoulders and the sleeves were too short, but it made me feel better.
I pulled on the only other pair of jeans I’d brought. My leg groaned, but it already hurt less. I popped my back and neck. I was thirsty, and I had to piss.
There was no bathroom.
Because of course there wasn’t.
I slipped on my boots without socks. There were splashes of my blood across the back of one of them. I wondered what had become of the hunters. If they lay in front of the cabin, blood frozen, eyes wide, snow in their open mouths.
“Or maybe Livingstone ate them,” I said to no one.