Page 124 of These Tears

They part.

My pulse flutters painfully beneath my jaw.

Something in him snaps.

He surges towards me as though the sight of it had broken the last of his restraint.

His mouth is almost on mine when—

‘You found her?’ Another voice, older, travels from behind me.

Elias stops inches from me. A second passes. Two.

He pulls us both off the tree so smoothly that, by the time I make the turn, the violence has already been rearranged into concern.

My chest hurts from the cold air. My body is shaking from the rush.

He winds himself around me, one arm locking across my back as he pulls me tight. Close. Closer.

‘Play the part, Leah,’ he murmurs dangerously into my ear. ‘She’s alright,’ he says, louder, already moulding himself for appearance’s sake in front of the man approaching us.

I turn towards the voice as Elias reaches for the hatchet and hooks it to the belt of his suit.

A large man stands a few paces away in a bright winter coat. He must be in his sixties, with a thick white beard and long white hair spilling from beneath his beanie, his weathered face creased by the cold.

His gaze moves from Elias to me, stops on the arm around my waist. Drops to my shaking hands. Returns to my face.

But then his expression settles as though it’s not his story to enter.

Is it him? Is this the hand that helped Elias get me all the way here?

I nearly scream.

‘You must be Leandra,’ he says with a gritty voice, but a gentle tone. ‘Anders Nielsen. Nice to meet you.’

When he reaches to shake my hand, Elias steps aside just enough for me to greet the man.

‘Leah,’ I murmur, but it barely comes out of me.

Elias’ arm holds me firmly at the waist as he points ahead. ‘The snowmobile and the sledge are that way. We need to hurry because of the chickens.’ He gives me a harsh look through a thin smile. ‘You look like an icicle. What did I tell you about walks in the woods during weather like this?’

My lips press together at the soft notes in his voice. Perhaps because a part of me wishes they were real.

When I don’t respond right away, Elias takes my hand in his. Gently.

‘Right,’ Anders concludes, glancing between us. ‘Shall we, then?’

The snow starts creaking beneath his boots. We follow. Anders is ahead of us with the heavy tread of a man who knows this land well. Elias keeps me tucked against his side, his hand fixed at my waist to make it seem as if I were something fragile, beloved and recently recovered from the edge of disaster.

But his fingers are too tight.

Every step draws another thread of fear through me.

The phantom sting of the tree still presses against my spine. The bite of his kiss is still raw on my mouth. The edge in his voice when he told me not to move is still scraping along my nerves.

The cold should be the only thing making me shake, but it isn’t.

My mind keeps tripping over possibilities, each one worse than the last.