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As much as I’m enjoying my time with her, I know this can’t last. Once she graduates from Forward Path, she’ll go back home. After that, she’ll leave for school, and I’ll have a media empire to run. Our lives are just too different for us to be compatible for anything other than this slice of time we’re enjoying together right now. It’s unfortunate. Jordan is unlike any woman I’ve ever known, and I wouldn’t mind spending more time with her outside the confines of this program. But, like a great many things in my life, it’s just not meant to be.
I glance at my watch and see that it’s closing in on six. Jordan is supposed to be coming by once her group session has wrapped for the day. One of the benefits of having my personal cabin at the far end of the compound is that it’s easier to get to unseen. It’s how we’ve been able to carry on without anybody suspecting anything was going on between us for the last couple of weeks. Jordan slips in under the cover of darkness and is gone again before first light.
I go back inside and pour myself another drink then come back out and lean against the railing. The surface of the lake is perfectly still and looks like a sheet of glass. The dying sunlight glitters off the water, casting it in fiery hues of red and orange. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. Standing here among so much natural beauty, I feel a sense of calm I never feel when I’m in the city. I’m going to miss it once I head back. And I don’t know when I’m going to be coming back for another session.
With my duties at the company being as all-consuming as they are, I can only commit to being here for one session a year. In his later years, my father came for at least three sessions a year. I’m beginning to suspect now though, he came out here so often simply to be among nature. To absorb the peace of this place. To find his center and ground himself. If I had the choice, I’d be out here more often too. But that’s not my life.
Two more drinks later, the darkness had claimed the land around me. The sounds of the night—crickets, frogs, and nightbirds—echo through the blackness of the forest and the air is growing cooler. I glance at my watch again and frown. The group sessions should already be over, and Jordan should have been here by now. I’m not a superstitious man but a dark and ominous feeling presses down on me as a finger of ice slides up my spine.
I drain the last of my drink and set the glass down on the rail then pace back and forth for a minute, trying to figure out what to do. Trying to talk myself out of overreacting. I glance at my watch again, my frown turning into a scowl. There’s no question that Jordan should have been here by now. She’s never late. My brow furrows and I run a hand through my hair, that dark and ominous pressure fills my chest. I stop pacing and look out the front windows, tapping my foot against the hardwood floor.
“Something’s not right,” I mutter.
Grabbing a flashlight, I head out of my cabin and pick my way through the inky shadows to the secret footpath that skirts along the edge of the forest. It’s the trail Jordan uses to sneak away from the guest cabins that lead her here. Flipping on the light, I head down the path, the bright beam cutting through the darkness. The interior of the forest is silent, and the air is filled with a strange tension—one that seems to have a weight all its own. I don’t hear any birds or anything rustling in the undergrowth. The quiet within the wood seems unnatural and it only deepens that sense within me that something isn’t right.
I come around a bend in the trail when I hear a muffled scream. That’s quickly followed by the sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh and a groan. I’d know that sound anywhere… somebody just got hit. A woman. And if I were a betting man, I’d wager that it was Jordan. The next thing I hear is laughter and men’s voices. A yawning pit opens in my but and I feel waves of rage rolling through me as I picture what’s going on in the darkness ahead of me.
Gritting my teeth, I sprint down the trail, running toward the sounds of struggle that echo all around me. My fury wars with the panic that fills every cell in my body, fearing I’m not going to get to her in time. I already know what’s going on and my fear for Jordan is blotting out my common sense. Intellectually, I know I should call the police. That I should wait. But the thought that these animals are putting their hands on Jordan overwhelms my intellect. That these pieces of shit think they can put their hands on what’s mine drowns out any semblance of common sense.
I round a slight bend in the trail and burst through a screen of bushes and into a small clearing set behind it just in time to see the guy who’d been trying to rape Jordan—Alex was his name she’d said—deliver a vicious slap. Her head snapped to the side, and she fell to the ground. The sound of her crying fills my ears and stokes the rage burning bright inside of me. The two frat boys see me and take a step back as uncertainty and fear pass across their faces.
“What did I tell you about never so much as looking at Jordan again?” I growl.
“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t done what you did, bro,” Alex said. “She was into it until you busted into Auggie’s cabin. Then all of a sudden, she starts actin’ like a frosty, prudish bitch.”
I close the distance between us in the blink of an eye and when I’m suddenly in Alex’s face, his eyes widen, and his mouth falls open in surprise. I’m standing so close, I can smell the booze and pot on his breath. Not that being drunk and high is an excuse for what he’s doing. Before Alex can react, I reach back and drive my fist straight into his face. The impact sends a shockwave up my arm and into my shoulder and the knuckles in my fist explode with pain. But his head snaps backward and a spray of blood bursts from his nose and mouth as he stumbles backward. Alex drops to the ground with a heavy thud and a wet, gurgling cry.
The other one—Auggie—rushes in from the side. I turn just in time to avoid the wild haymaker he threw, but just barely. I feel the wind of it caress my face as his fist passes. Undoubtedly, if he hadn’t been slightly impaired by the booze and weed, he would have connected. Auggie isn't a small guy and could have probably done some damage. It might have been a decent fight. Unlucky for him though, he is slightly impaired, and I am not. What I am though, is filled with the deepest, darkest rage I've ever felt in my life.
After dodging his blow, I round on him and grab the sides of his head and in one fluid movement, bring it down as I raise my knee with all the force I can muster. The crack of his nose and teeth shattering is keen. I shift my grip on his hair and yank his head up. When his eyes focus on mine, I drive my fist into his jaw and feel it shift beneath my hand. He’s going to be eating through a straw for a while. Auggie is out before he hits the ground.
His face bloody and his eyes burning with hate, Alex has gotten back to his feet and is already rushing at me. He clips my chin with a shot that, if he’d been one hundred percent, would have hurt. Instead, his aim is off and it’s nothing more than a glancing blow. Even still, it sends a lightning bolt of pain through my jaw that turns me around. As I do, I catch sight of Jordan. Her face is bloodied and the look of fear in her eyes fills me with the darkest rage. That fury helps me push aside the pain in my jaw and turn back to Alex, who is already charging at me again.
As he closes in, I duck below his wild swing and shoot upward, driving my fist into the bottom of his jaw. I hear his teeth clack together and he grunts as he stumbles backward with even more blood flowing from his mouth. I press my advantage and step forward, delivering a hard blow to his midsection that doubles him over. Alex is gasping and wheezing, as I reach down and, like I did with Auggie, grab him by the hair and yank his head up.
“Please,” he croaks. “I’m sorry—”
My fist crashes into his face with a sound like I just punched wet meat. Alex drops, limp and boneless to the ground, and is still. I turn to Jordan who’s hauled herself into a sitting position. Her eyes are still wide and thin tendrils of blood from her nose and the corner of her mouth mar her perfectly beautiful, pale complexion. She’s trembling and tears roll down her cheek as she raises a shaking hand and gingerly touches her split lips. She raises her gaze to me.
“Y—you came for me,” she says, her voice shaking as hard as her hand. “You saved me from them. Again.”
“Of course, I did,” I say.
She sniffs loudly and shakes her head, her features etched with disbelief. It’s like she can’t believe that I came for her. What she obviously doesn’t know—and what I’m just now learning—is that I would walk through fire for her. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her. To keep her safe. To keep her from ever feeling the sort of fear and pain she feels right now. Nothing. I know it’s a useless sentiment given that we’ll be parting ways soon enough. But I can’t stop myself from feeling it nonetheless.
A gentle smile touches my lips as I squat down and scoop her up. Our eyes are locked together as I carry her back to the path that will lead us to my cabin. When I look into her dazzling green eyes, I feel my heart swell. At the same time, it’s lanced with pain, knowing that this is unsustainable. That this can’t—and won’t—last. All I can do is enjoy the time I have left with her.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” I say.
She lays her head against my chest and I carry her in silence through the darkness.
10
“Idon’t even know where they came from, Director Ballard,” I tell him. “One minute I was walking down the path and the next, they were hauling me into the bushes off the trail.”
“Okay, first of all, I keep telling you to just call me Micah,” he scolds me. “Second, I’m going to call the cops—”
“No. Please don’t,” I tell him. “If the cops get involved, they might find out about us—”
