Chapter 20
“Do those things that incline you toward the big questions, and avoid the things that would reduce you and make you trivial.”- George Saunders
Two hours later we’re somewhere near Lake Arrowhead in the middle of the woods on a dirt drive.
“Where are we going?” She speaks softly, as if her voice might shatter the air between us.
“A safe house.” There’s a light shining through the trees up ahead. As it gets closer I see a truck parked near a cabin. I haven’t made contact with my contact in twelve months. But in my panic I couldn’t see a better option for safety. Bentley James had been the only other person outside of Mags who was trying to get me out and away from Ezra with few or no casualties. So much for that. I'd contacted him after I'd woken up, and had told him if he found her first to keep her safe. I was still in hiding and didn't have the inside daily edge on Ezra at that point, so we both felt it wasn’t safe to risk meeting anymore.
“Stay here,” I tell her as I throw the car in park. She nods and continues to stare out the window. I don’t know how to deal with her emptiness. She’s turned off, completely shut down and it’s scaring the shit out of me. I felt like I just got her back. Why the hell wouldn’t she just disappear with me when I'd asked her to? This could have all been avoided.
I trot up the path to the front door but before I can knock Bentley swings it open and looks pissed. “Where’s Mags?” he barks. Jesus, what’s his problem?
“Hi, Bentley, oh hey - if they find out I'm talking to you, they'll kill me. Nice to see you too,” I deadpan. “She’s in the car. Safe and completely in shock. I’m worried.” His creased brow smoothes out and he pushes past me for the car.
“Bentley, wait!” I call. He doesn’t get to comfort her, that’s my job. Then again, I can’t imagine an acquaintance bringing much comfort to her anyways. He swings the door open and Mags stares up at him, completely bewildered. Her eyes change from vacant to warm to shocked.
“Bentley?” she breathes, bottom lip trembling.
“Princess, are you hurt?” he coos at her. Princess? What the fuck is going on? Her eyes stare up at him wildly, nostrils flaring. Her lips are a thin straight line now.
“What. The. Fuck?” she bites out in a calm, determined tone. Not the response I imagined but my sentiments exactly. I elbow Bentley out of the way and drop to my knees in front of her.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, trying to calm her. Her eyes leave Bentley’s and move to mine, rage burning beneath their surface. Hard and angry.
“Who the fuck ARE you?!” she screeches. She starts violently shaking in her seat and I am at a complete loss for what to do next.
“Move,” Bentley commands.
“Screw you!” I bark over my shoulder. “Mags? Talk,” I push. She looks down at where my hand holds hers and yanks it from my grip. Swinging her legs out, she knocks me off balance and leaps out of the car.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on but if either one of you fucking come near me I will beat you within an inch of your life,” she growls at us. I push up, brushing the dirt from my knees and approach her.
“I wouldn’t,” Bentley sighs. Who does he think he is? I spin around, fists clenched, and face him.
“Talk,” I spit.
“I watched her for you,” he shrugs. Magnolia gasps behind me.
“Seems like a little more,” I grind out.
“We got involved, Cane. It just happened. I care for her.” Red fills my vision again. I trusted him. I asked him to keep an eye on her. To keep her safe. I did not ask him to love her or befriend her. I charge him, swinging and cussing. He doesn’t back down, or move at all. The bastard lets me pummel him. It’s not cathartic at all. It soothes nothing in my chest right now but I keep my fist moving, connecting over and over with his face.
“STOP,” a frail voice commands. Bentley’s face is bloody as he lies in the dirt, looking away. I swivel my head around to Magnolia.
“You’re both scum,” she whispers, before turning on her heel and stumbling inside. My heart cracks wide open at the sight. Her fight seems to have left her. She carries herself like she's broken down and done trying, shoulders slumped. How would either one of us explain that we knew each other? How would I explain to her that my need to make sure she was safe always outweighed my job, my family, my own anger and confusion? Things were already so fucked up - I never anticipated that they could get any more complicated.
I storm into the cabin after her.
“Magnolia, stop! Let me explain!” I shout at her back.
She swings around to face me, her skin flushed and with tears in her eyes. “You think that I don't know you? You are dead wrong. The only thing that has ever come out of your mouth is lies. God dammit!” she shrieks, throwing her hands in the air. “I don’t want to hear your explanation. I wouldn't believe a word of it at this point.” Her voice trails off, showing her true exhaustion. She points to a door to her left. “I am sleeping in there. You are not welcome, nor is Bentley. Try not to kill each other before morning.” She shoves the door open and slams it loudly behind her. I walk to the door and put my ear to it. A loud thwack assaults my eardrum as something hits the door on the other side with great force. I jump back, worried that she knows I’m there, and slide down the wall until I’m sitting. Her soft whimpers are the only sound in the cabin and each one wrecks me a little more than the last. Why can’t I get anything right?
Bentley stumbles back into the cabin some time later. I’m still in my spot on the floor outside her bedroom door. He grunts at me but doesn't say anything as he passes me to the kitchen area. He reaches in the freezer and pulls out a bag of frozen corn, and presses it gingerly to his face as he leans against the counter.
“How could you?” I grouse at him. He shakes his head, keeping his nose tilted up in the air to keep the corn resting just right.
“It wasn't intentional. You didn't see her, dammit. It was bad. I couldn't keep her safe from a distance because she had no friends. No interaction with anyone. She isolated herself completely. She almost killed herself drinking those first few months. It was fucking bad, man. You were lucky you didn't have to watch her disintegrate day by day. That girl you lived with, the happy, studious, college student who gave a shit about everything and anything disappeared. I got to know the new woman. The changed woman. And I couldn’t keep away. It just happened. I was there for her...not replacing you, just there for the new her. It wasn’t intentional, it just happened slowly over time. I am so sorry, man,” he finishes.
The worst part of his whole rant is that I get it. I wasn’t innocent. I tried to screw Magnolia out of my heart but I always woke up loving her. He fell for the part of her I don’t understand or know, and maybe she fell for him out of that same part of herself. This morning I thought I was the only man she’d ever been with, only to find out in one day that I’m just the first of three. It breaks my heart. Worse is knowing she was just starting to try and move on to love someone else. It’s like no matter what, I fuck up her life. The crushing feeling deep in my chest is worse than living under the pretense that she tried to kill me on purpose. This hurt is different. I don't know whether to hold onto her, to fight for her, or to let her go so she can find a shred of happiness, uncomplicated happiness, in her life.
“I shot Ezra,” I reply, moving our conversation to an easier topic.
“Damn...” he groans.
“He was going to kill her, Bent. He raped her. The sick fuck told me he did it. My own uncle. She never told me. That night, the entire situation was so far off from what I thought it was. She wasn’t trying to kill me, she was trying to kill him.” I watch as Bentley’s face registers surprise, then understanding.
“It makes sense now...” he mumbles.
“There’s more. He was going on about the pack, the one she took. When she said she spent the money, that it was gone, he didn’t seem to care. The backpack was mine. I almost always had it with me, but he seems fixated on it. Something’s up.”
“Did you kill him?” he asks, shifting the bag of corn over his left eye.
“It was a slug to the chest, close range, but we both know you can survive that. I’m not sure. I cut Mags loose and ran. I didn’t wait around to find out if he had a pulse.” I watch as Bentley drags a hand down the good side of his face and grunts in frustration.
“It all happened so fast,” I finish.
“Forget about it. You did the right thing, we just need to figure out next steps. I need to make some calls.” He strides by me and exits the cabin, pulling his phone from his pocket.
I push up from the floor and relocate to the couch. My hand is swollen and bloody but I’ll deal with it later. I push the heels of my hands into my eyes but it does nothing but hurt the bruising from my black eyes. When Bentley comes back in he looks like I feel, defeated and tired. My mind races with thoughts of him touching my girl, being with her. Jealous anger wells up inside me but I try my best to tamp it down. There are other things to deal with now – I may still need to protect us. I stand, stretch, and let Bentley know that I’m going to grab our stuff from the car. I shoulder our bags, flip the glove box open and tuck the pistol into the waistband of my pants. My cell light blinks, indicating a text message. I grab it, slam the car door shut and stagger, exhausted, back into the cabin. I set Magnolia’s bag just outside her bedroom door and toss my bag on the couch after setting the pistol and my phone on the coffee table.
“What’s that?” Bentley points to my phone.
“A phone?” I volley back, irritated. I pick it up, flip it open and read the text message.
Betrayal is not tolerated.
“You brought that with you?” he squawks at me. “Jesus H. Christ, he’ll be tracking you!” Bentley booms. I slam the phone on the floor next to my foot, smashing it into tiny fragments.
“I wasn’t exactly thinking straight!” I snap at him. He drops to the couch beside me and lays his head back.
“We need to move. It won’t be safe here after tomorrow. There’s another location a few hours from here. You and I will need to travel separately from her. I have someone coming who will be able to transport her safely. It’s late. We’ll be up early, go get some sleep,” he grunts as he strides to the empty bedroom next to Magnolia's. I slam my fist into the coffee table. Pain splinters through my knuckles but it does nothing to distract my heart from the real pain I’m feeling.
She hasn’t uttered a single word to either of us. Our morning has been silent outside of Bentley and me pleading with her to talk to us. The silent treatment from her could bring any man to his knees, but what’s worse is she's not ignoring us really. We informed her we’re moving her to a more secure location and that she needs to pack up and be ready to go, and she nodded her acknowledgement. At breakfast she smiled at me when I handed her a bowl of cereal. When Bentley asked her questions she gestured her answers. Mute Magnolia was a sad version of the girl I love. She only existed, it seemed now, to show us how badly we’d messed her up.
I sling her bag over my shoulder and usher her outside where she suddenly squeals with joy and shimmies out of my hold. Running full bore across the drive she leaps into a large black pair of arms. His arms close tight around her. It infuriates me. Who the hell is this guy? She doesn’t belong to him. She’s mine. I’ve had enough of all the men in her life. My jaw is tight and my pulse pounds in my head. I have to clench it even more, knowing how good it would feel to punch his face. He releases her, kisses the top of her head and smiles down at her lovingly. In that moment I lose it. I can’t control my rage any longer. All the frustration of the last week start a fire inside me. Moving quickly and silently, I walk right up to Mags and the linebacker. My fist meets his jaw three times before he hits the ground. I can hear Mags screaming at me. She sounds hysterical. Little fists beat at my back while she screams but I’m too wrapped up in the moment to stop. Four. Five. His hands drop from the protective position in front of his face and his head lolls to the side limply. Chump never even hit back.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” she screams in my ear. It’s the most she’s spoken to me since last night. Pushing me to the side, she snakes her body between us and tenderly attends to her friend's face. It kills me to know that she won’t talk to me. That she found out about all this the way she did. I feel the overwhelming urge to hold her close and profess my love for her. Everything feels so tense.
"Brock? Are you alright?" she asks him worriedly. He doesn't really respond, he just groans. Her head snaps up and the glare she shoots me should cut me in half.
"Cane Jonathan Ash, get the fuck out of my sight. NOW!" she screams. She's adorable when she's angry. All piss and vinegar. I smirk at her before shaking my head no. There is no way I'm leaving her side right now.
"I can't stand to look at you," she hisses. The disdain she feels is evident in more than her words. "He's a friend. I only have two, you know, and you've managed to hurt both of them in under twenty-four hours. He's a good guy." Her voice breaks as she finishes. Heat creeps up my body seeing her like this. I've hurt her, again, and I don't like the way she's looking at me. Hell, I don’t like the way she’s looked at me for the last twenty-four hours. If she would just let me explain. Bentley was my contact with the ATF. My way out. My exit plan from Ezra. I was betraying my family for her and me to have a real future.