Page 260 of These Tears

‘Elias, you can’t just buy me a truck—’

My face drains of colour as recognition washes over me cold.

‘Why did you buy me a truck?’

‘To move around. You might need to go into town for something.’

‘You would get it for me,’ I supply.

His face falls slightly, though I can see he’s holding on to the mask.

‘You should be able to reach town… an airport… anywhere else… without asking me anything.’

He doesn’t look at me when he says it. His eyes are lowered, trained on his boots. His hands remain loose at his sides instead of reaching for me. Every word sounds as though he has wrenched it out of a place that didn’t want it released.

This is more than handing over my passport. More than permission disguised as practicality.

The truck sits like proof of the fight he is having with his own nature, and – for once – he is choosing the door over the cage.

A sharp pain ricochets in my chest. I had spent so long waiting for him to stop deciding where I could go that I never imagined freedom arriving like this – in the shape of tyres, keys and him refusing to look at me.

He sobers then.

‘That’s not all, either…’ He reaches for the cage lock with one hand and loops two leads around his other, clipping them on the animals’ collars. ‘I’ll be a minute.’

When he unlatches the tailgate, my spine snaps upright. The dogs jump out of the truck bed and thud onto the ground, immediately pulling their noses towards the yard.

I watch Elias walk them once around the place, the henhouse and the edge of the clearing before he reaches for the collars again.

The moment he unlatches them, I pull the truck door shut.

The dogs scatter in rapid movements, eyes sharp and noses sharper.

Suddenly, Elias knocks on the window, startling me. He jerks his head towards the house in soundless invitation and leaves.

My heart climbs to my throat.

‘You’re not leaving me alone with the dogs!’ I call. Brute snaps his head towards me at the raised voice. And my spine remembers to hold straight.

‘Right…’ I mutter to myself, ‘it’s just a puppy. A big… dark-eyed, wild-looking beast that belongs in mythology books. Nothing to worry about.’

I click the door handle. The dogs freeze where they stand, their heads turning towards me. Menace angles his a fraction, nose twitching.

I slither out of the truck as if trying to make myself appear as fluid as possible. Slow movements, no panic.

‘Hey love,’ I murmur to Brute, who hasn’t blinked at all. ‘You look too cute for a wolf,’ I coo.

His pointy ears twitch, but that’s about all he gives me.

I begin walking slowly towards the door, and the dogs move, following me with the grim devotion of executioners escorting a condemned woman to her final appointment.

Every step across the yard takes approximately six years and several heart attacks. Soil swallows my boots, my dignity abandons me somewhere near the closest woodpile, and Elias stands by the cabin entrance looking far too entertained for a man who has just released two feral border patrol officers with teeth into my immediate vicinity.

Brute pads closer to my left hip, the other to my right.

Lovely. Formation.

Like livestock.