Ned laughed and pulled away. “At this rate, I’ll be making breakfast, not dinner.”
Not yet, Cole’s heart whispered, but it would never have enough, and its foolish desires needed curbing sooner rather than later.
“I think Dog’s jealous,” Cole noted the moment the large furball with pointy ears pushed its way between Ned’s feet.
Ned laughed and scooted down to cuddle Dog’s cheeks. “No wonder,” he cooed to the dog. “Strange man comes into his house, takes his name, takes his master away for the night…”
“I reckon it was the other way around. You gave him my name without permission,” Cole said with a slap to Ned’s buttock and stepped away when Dog tried to rub his muzzle against Cole’s leg. That beast wouldn’t give it a rest, undeterred by Cole’s obvious disinterest in its affections.
Cole could hardly believe this was the monstrosity that had almost chewed his arm off on the night they’d met, but as Ned petted Dog with a wide smile, envy sparked in Cole without warning. For a moment he wanted to be that furry beast, free of constraints that kept him from accepting the future Ned offered him each day by not mentioning that the number of days they’d agreed on was long over. Dog trusted Ned with his life, and Cole wasn’t capable of such vulnerability anymore. Even after those two months of bliss.
Of coffee in bed, of good food made for him, of hunting together, and evenings of games enjoyed by the warm fireplace. Cole didn’t enjoy books, but with not much else to do, Ned started reading to him from volumes he’d stolen over the years. The stories allowed Cole to forget about the world beyond their cabin as he laid with his head in Ned’s lap and listened to stories relayed by some poor woman from Arabia trying to prevent her own death by keeping a mad king invested in the plots. Ned had a beautiful voice—warm and low, with a bit of a rasp, and after the first two weeks, Cole stopped slapping away the hand absentmindedly petting his head.
It was almost as if they were back together, but even the sweetest lie could only last so long. Deep down, Cole always expected a knife in the back. An arm tightening around his neck. Empty promises. And while Ned had been true to his vow, didn’t attempt to make any more liquor, and tried to prove his sincerity each day, Cole remained wary as he listened to his faint snoring deep in the night.
A happy man was a complacent man, and if he stared into the sky, too pleased with the heat of sunlight on skin, he might just miss the deadly scorpion crawling into his sleeve. A cold sensation drizzled down Cole’s back, and he picked up his clothes, suddenly in a hurry to get dressed.
Ned frowned as he set the pot of water on the stove and got the fire going under it. “Did you say you wanted coffee?”
Had anyone else asked that question, Cole would have dismissed it as a slip of memory, but the moonshine abuse had left Ned’s head full of holes that made him forgetful.
Ned remembered their past well but often struggled with planning, timing, and focus. He’d feed Dog twice, forget that he’d already groomed their horses, or where he’d put his shoes. Cole at first thought that those minor issues would soon start annoying the hell out of him, but instead, they created a visceral need to protect Ned from the world every time they occurred.
He used to have painfully realistic dreams of murdering Ned in cold blood, but now he was afraid to leave, because what if Ned forgot where he set up snares and stepped in them? It had already happened once, and Ned had the marks of iron teeth on his calf to prove it.
“I did, thank you,” he said, because pointing out Ned’s forgetfulness always caused grief. Ned would blame himself for falling so low and letting the booze poison his body to a point where complete recovery seemed no longer possible, and Cole’s heart would bleed in silence.
Ned poured them a steaming cup each with a smile that made him look like his younger self again. His eyes twinkled with sweet innocence, as if the things he’d done in the past were only a bad dream. This was the man Cole had stolen out of the O’Leary nest, because he’d wanted him too much to let go. In a twisted way all the murder and carnage Ned had caused, had been inspired by Cole. He was even responsible for the fact that their coffee had been stolen from some poor fellow who’d had the misfortune to encounter the Wolfman. And that made their inevitable parting tougher still.
“We’ll have berries soon,” Ned said and sat by the table with his cup.
There was always something about to happen soon. Berries. Grass. Warmth. By summer, they’d be taking baths in a cold spring nearby and fishing. If Cole stayed.
But he couldn’t. In his experience, everything that felt cozy might turn out to have sharp teeth and knives for hands. And he’d rather walk away from things that gave him pleasure than fall into a trap again. Perhaps that made him weak, but running from establishing close bonds like the ones that already tied him to Ned had been what kept him sane. And after two months of dealing with Ned’s irrational fears and listening to made-up stories about communicating with wolves, he rather appreciated sanity.
“I should really think of going my own way, Ned.”
Ned harrumphed and lowered his gaze to his beverage. “Think of what you might need for the way. I could make you jam with the berries that we’ll have soon.”
Soon. Next month. In the summer.
“I’ll visit to see how you’re doing,” Cole said, ignoring the tightening in his chest. He was a grown man and couldn’t live his life like a fifteen-year-old girl who saw life as an opportunity for romance and adventure.
“When do you want to go?” Ned asked in a monotone voice.
Dog sat by him and let out a little whine, putting his muzzle on Ned’s thigh as if he sensed his master’s sadness.
Cole hated dogs, but he’d have liked the beast to comfort him too.
“I don’t know… tomorrow? We both know I’ve been here longer than we agreed on. This can’t last forever Ned. Nothing does.”
Ned shrugged, his eyes dim, as if they’d gotten gray over the span of minutes. “I don’t know, I don’t have a calendar. Time flows different in the mountains. So maybe things could last here, just like snow that never melts at the peaks.”
“This isn’t real life, Ned. I have places to be.”
A lie. He had nothing but the items stowed on his horse—some clothes and trinkets, weapons, food staples, and the savings he’d managed to amass since he’d lost his small fortune to the rancher who’d marked him. He was wanted in several states and had few friends out there. But if he stayed, doubts would plague him forever, poisoning every waking hour, and even his dreams. Perhaps he should follow Ned’s example and set up on his own somewhere. Hell, maybe get a dog too?
This way, he’d never have to worry about loyalty and always be at peace.
Ned glanced at him with tension around the curved scar on his cheek. “What if… just hear me out, what if this is a curse? Punishment for destroying our carving in the tree. What if we went back to Three Stones and cut out our initials again? Maybe then it could last?”
Ned said it with such conviction that even though curses weren’t real, Cole wanted to agree to this silly plan against all rhyme and reason, and go to a place where they were both wanted for participating in the massacre, just because it would have been another excuse to stay with Ned.