Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

8. Killian

CHAPTER 8

KILLIAN

TO LOVE SOMEBODY - THE HOWL & THE HUM

Glaring at the lumpy pancake batter in the mixing bowl, I continue to take out my aggression on it. Once all the specks of flour have disintegrated, I use the ladle to pour four decent-sized puddles into the pan.

I’ve been in a foul mood since the coal-haired beauty flinched away from me a few days ago, believing that my hand was raised to strike her. That fucking hurt. Even though she’s a total stranger and I shouldn’t give a shit.

“Jesus Christ.” Zach appears in the kitchen, pulling a paint-flecked blue t-shirt over his bare chest. “This is domesticated as hell.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Where’s your flowery apron, champ?”

“Don’t test me, kid,” I warn him. “I’ll withhold breakfast rights.”

“You wouldn’t,” he challenges.

Grabbing a wooden spoon from the utensil spot, I whip it across the kitchen with perfect aim. It hits him in the back of the head as he fills his coffee cup from the French press. Zach yelps, almost dropping his morning brew.

“Ow! That fucking hurt!”

“No bacon for you,” I chastise. “I told you not to test me.”

Zach mutters a curse and takes a seat at the breakfast bar connected to our messy, disorganised kitchen. He dumps far too much sugar in his coffee cup, wincing before he takes a sip and adds another huge spoonful.

“Real coffee doesn’t need sweetening.”

He facepalms. “Don’t start this shit again, Kill.”

“You eat like an eight-year-old with a sugar addiction.”

“It’s seven o’clock in the morning. Can you please give it a rest? I’m not awake yet and really don’t need you on my ass.”

Piling a chipped plate high with pancakes, I take pity on him and add some bacon from the frying pan. He immediately perks up and promptly covers his entire breakfast in golden syrup while offering me his best shit-eating grin.

“Eat up.” I pile my own plate high with food. “We need to work on the Jacobsons’ cabin this morning and clear the bonfire site from the party.”

“Got it, boss,” he drones with a mouthful of food.

“Is your brother up yet?”

“I heard him come to bed at three o’clock this morning. That’s four days straight, Kill.”

“I’m sure he napped in his art studio.”

“Don’t bullshit me. I’m not Lola,” he replies, pointing his syrupy fork at me. “We need to do something about these depressive episodes. That last therapist seemed to help him.”

“Until he refused to go anymore.”

“Maybe we can talk him into going again?” Zach muses, pausing to lick his plate clean like an animal. “You’ll probably have more luck than me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shoots me a pointed look, swigging on his coffee. “Well, last time you threatened to bulldoze his art studio and build a home gym instead. That got him to come out.”

“Lola went fucking ballistic when she heard.”

“It’s not like you were actually gonna do it.”

That’s what he thinks. I would’ve taken a wrecking ball to that damn studio if it got Micah to come back to us. None of us can pretend to fathom his complicated mind. As Zach’s reclusive, introverted twin brother, we’ve always known that he’s different.

Even when they were kids, Micah didn’t smile or laugh like others did. It’s like he was born without that part of his brain functioning properly. My parents used to call him a tortured artist, but it’s far more than a lazy stereotype.

They adopted both of the twins when I was still a young kid. Their father, my mother’s older brother, died of prostate cancer, leaving his two young sons behind as their mother was long gone by that point.

While we’re actually first cousins, we grew up together like brothers. Zach and Micah are both twenty-four years old, but the six years between us feel like a lifetime.

I’ve assumed the role of parent since my folks died too, and all the responsibility that brings fell on my shoulders. Most days, I feel older than Lola.

“I’ll talk to him,” I concede. “No promises.”

“Thanks, Kill. I just want to see him well again, you know? I get that he’ll always struggle, but we can’t pretend that how things are at the moment is normal.”

“Yeah, I know. Come on, finish up.”

Dumping our empty dishes by the sink to clean up later, we pull on our mud-splattered work boots and thick denim jackets before heading out into the early morning sunshine. The February air is crisp and refreshing.

I can hear Ryder’s headache-inducing eighties music blaring from the garage behind their cabin from here. He’s working on my truck, changing the oil and checking the engine. His work always entails him blasting terrible music that should remain in the past.

“Morning, campers,” Zach calls out. “Can you kill the shit music, Ry?”

Ringlets appear from beneath the huge engine, and I can see that Ryder’s boyish face is already covered in grease.

“Morning! Any breakfast left for me?”

I gesture towards the cabin behind me. “Left some pancakes and bacon for you next to the oven. Coffee’s fresh too.”

“Score,” he replies. “Thanks, Kill.”

Albie also appears from the back of the garage, lugging a secondhand tyre in his arms. Even at his advanced age, he’s fighting fit and stronger than a fucking horse. He dumps it next to Ryder with a huff.

“You fellas heading out to the Jacobsons’ cabin?”

“Yeah, we’ll get the roofing fixed today.” I grab my battered toolbox and drop it in a wheelbarrow. “Should be ready by next month.”

He wipes his hands on a rag. “I’ll let Aalia know. She’s desperate to get out of temporary accommodation. The government ain’t providing shit for her or the kids.”

“We know they don’t give two craps about refugees, no matter what their half-assed policies say.” I check our equipment again, coming to a decision. “We’ll work overtime.”

“Yeah?” he echoes.

“Tell her it’ll be ready by next week.”

“You’re a good one, Kill.”

“Don’t tell anyone. They’ll think I’ve gone soft.”

“Hardly,” Zach comments as he lumbers past me.

Leaving them to their work, we traipse through the overgrown grass and clusters of wildflowers that surround the cobbled path heading down into the centre of Briar Valley. Zach walks ahead, leaving me to push the wheelbarrow.

Our two cabins are alone atop the hill that rises above the valley, aside from the smaller one across the road left abandoned since my folks died. We prefer it up here, away from the constant hum of activity.

Briar Valley used to be quiet.

Now, it’s growing by the day.

Snaking back down into the valley, several more cobbled paths wind through the thick woodland. They lead to different corners of the town, with more cabins tucked into the foliage of pine trees, wild mushrooms and overgrown weeds.

It’s easy to get lost here amidst the unrestricted chaos of nature. We’re constantly expanding the town to accommodate new residents. Lola owns the land for miles around and grows more determined to take the world beneath her wing every day.

Stopping by the rusted metal supply shed where we keep the pre-cut wood, Zach helps me load a second wheelbarrow with the roof supplies, complaining the entire time.

“Morning, boys.” Rachel stops behind us, her red curls pulled up into a ponytail. “Just heading to Lola’s to do the monthly shopping list. Any requests?”

“Rach. Just the person I wanted to see.” Zach beams up at her. “I’ll take my usual snack order. Some shaving foam too, if you can get it.”

“You put the money in the jar?”

“Sure did.”

“Shaving foam?” I ask him. “You looking to impress someone?”

His grin is lopsided. “Maybe I have a hot date. How would you know? Oh, and Rach, Ryder wanted extra of those weird pretzel sticks he likes.”

“Weird pretzel sticks,” she recites, adding to her list. “Gotcha. Kill?”

“Lola’s got my order.”

“Cool. See you both later on.”

Rachel vanishes with a wave, snaking towards Lola’s cabin. The whole town chips in for a bulk order every month. There are some things we simply cannot grow or make ourselves here, and we source them from Highbridge instead.

With all the materials loaded up, we’re ready to set off for the unfinished cabin to get to work. An excited squeal lances through the air before we can move, causing us both to freeze. I recognise the little spitfire’s voice without looking.

“Look! Real flowers!”

“Arianna, keep it down. You’ll disturb people.”

“I don’t care,” she sasses. “Hurry up! Let’s go!”

As Arianna barrels through the clearing in front of Lola’s cabin, I watch the blur of ethereal blonde hair running fast on little legs. We haven’t seen Willow for the past few days as the pair settled in and rested after their traumatic journey.

“And a butterfly!” the enthused voice bellows. “This country is awesome.”

Arianna isn’t looking where she’s going. She traipses through the long grass, inspecting every flower and insect. Lola told us that she was the same when she took her to the vegetable patch the other morning.

Lunging forward to intercept her, I easily pluck Arianna off her feet while she’s distracted. Tossing her over my shoulder, she shrieks loudly and laughs so hard, I’m worried she might actually pee on me.

“Gotcha, peanut.”

“Killian!”

“You’re very loud for this early in the morning.”

She stares up at me with big, blue eyes that sucker punch me right in the damn chest. I don’t usually like children—too loud and demanding—but there’s something about this tiny speck of sass and fire that I find endearing.

“I missed you, giant.”

I blink, taken aback. “Me?”

A smile blooms across her pink lips. “Where have you been?”

“Hiding, obviously.”

“You’re too big and fat to hide from me!”

Zach laughs his stupid ass off, and not even my glare shuts him up. Arianna joins in, and the cackling pair attract the attention of Josie and Stewart, two of our younger residents who are working on their allotment across the road.

“Zach,” I grumble.

He fights to take a breath. “The look on your face. Priceless.”

“I am not fat.”

Arianna reaches out and pinches my waist, her fingers clamping down on a roll of skin. “Then why are you so big?”

“Someone has to do all the work around here, peanut.”

Footsteps approach, slowly catching up to us. Willow appears in the clearing, still limping but looking a lot steadier on her feet than the last time we crossed paths. I still feel like a dick for how I treated her.

It wasn’t anything personal. I’m not good with people, let alone strangers. Her secrets are practically written across her face, and it killed me to know that I couldn’t wrangle them out of her, even by force.

“I’m so sorry,” she rushes to apologise.

Zach shoots her a wave. “Hey, Willow.”

“Morning, guys. Arianna, leave them alone.”

Her voice is a melodic tinkle that licks against my hardened skin. She’s a technicolour painting of purple and black bruises, but the swelling on her face has settled down enough to reveal her slightly crooked nose, naturally plump lips and effortless smile.

Fuck me.

She’s gorgeous.

No, no. Don’t go there.

My hands curl into fists at the stark bruising that still stains her slightly tanned skin. I want nothing more than to beat the shit out of whoever put the fear in her eyes. She takes one look at my face and shudders.

“Come on, Ari. Let’s go and get some breakfast.”

She really can’t stand me. I’ve seriously fucked this up.

“No, Mummy.” Arianna crosses her arms in defiance. “I want to stay out here with the pretty flowers and the giant.”

“You can come back after you’ve eaten.”

“I’m not hungry,” she whines. “You can’t make me eat.”

Willow bites her lip as she awkwardly lowers to her knees, fighting hard to conceal her pain from us. Arms outstretched, she beckons Arianna into her welcoming embrace.

“Now, what have I said about mealtimes?”

Arianna’s eyes are downcast. “That if I don’t eat, I won’t grow to be a big girl.”

“Exactly. There’s plenty of food here, so no excuses.”

“But—”

“You want to grow up to be big and strong like Killian, the giant?”

Sparing me a doe-eyed look, Arianna unveils an innocent smile that steals my breath away. I don’t know how to react, shuffling my feet like a damned idiot instead. These two are confusing the fuck out of me.

“Yes, I do,” she declares.

“Then march yourself inside and eat the food Lola has made for you. No arguments, missus.”

“Fine,” Arianna drawls. “But then I’m coming back outside.”

Willow watches as she races back across the clearing and inside Lola’s cabin, already shouting for her great-grandmother’s attention. I have no idea how Arianna’s smart-mouthed attitude came from someone as reserved as Willow.

When she tries to stand back up, she gasps in pain and nearly falls flat on her perfectly round ass. I move lightning fast, catching Willow in my arms before her legs crumple beneath her. It happens before I know what I’m doing.

Her hazel eyes are blown wide, and she stares up at me, her glistening lips parted on a breath. The swirling depths of her brown and green irises threaten to breach every last shield I’ve constructed over the years.

“Thank you,” she murmurs quietly.

“Don’t mention it.”

“You can let go of me now.”

Clearing my suddenly thick throat, I set her back on her feet and step backwards. “You should take your own advice. Go let Lola feed you.”

“Is that another order, Killian?”

There’s a playful smirk stretched across her inviting mouth. A weird sense of tension is snapping between us. Jesus Christ. I think I preferred it when she was scared of me and flinching from my touch. That was at least simpler.

Right now, all I can think about is sealing my lips on hers and seeing if she tastes as sweet as she acts. I’ve already seen what’s beneath her clothing, and the sight of her wearing my shirt has haunted my dreams ever since.

“You bet it is.”

“Interesting,” she quips. “I thought Lola told you off for doing that.”

“Lola isn’t here, is she?”

The need to drag her into my arms, pin her there for the rest of her goddamn life and feel her gorgeous curves in my hands is riding me hard. I don’t know this woman, but I still want to claim her as my own.

What is wrong with me?

Zach stops by my side and flashes her a blazing grin. His presence snaps us both out of it, taking a step back from each other. Somehow, we gravitated closer. My fingers are still twitching with the urge to stroke her black curls.

“You’re looking a bit better, babe. Finally got bored of Doc?”

Willow lets out a deep, rasping laugh. “More like I finally convinced him to let me out of bed. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Fine?” I repeat incredulously. “Again with this?”

Zach sighs. “That’s our cue to leave. Catcha later, Willow.”

“Zach, she is not f?—”

“Move,” he cuts me off.

He drags me back towards our discarded supplies. I’d very much like to punch him in the fucking face. There is nothing fine about the mess that Willow showed up in. If she thinks it’s okay to be in pain, we’re gonna have a serious problem.

Willow disappears back into Lola’s cabin as we set off, lugging the heavy wood towards the eastern stretch of the valley where our newest construction site awaits. As soon as she vanishes from sight, Zach bursts out laughing.

“You don’t know how to do this, do you?”

“Do what?” I growl at him.

“Be charming.”

“What the fuck are you going on about?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her.” His smile is oh-so-fucking smug. “You like her.”

“What are we, six years old?”

“Just admit it. She’s cute, right?”

If he weren’t my cousin, his body would be thrown off the mountain and shattered to pieces already. No one would find him out here. My life would be so much more peaceful.

“You better get your scrawny ass up to that cabin before I rearrange your face for that woman to see. You can try and be charming then.”

Zach glances at the cabin up ahead. “Reckon I could pull it off.”

“You really are a brainless moron. How are we related?”

“Geez, thanks. You’re so sweet, cuz.”

“Shut the hell up and move or Micah won’t have a twin anymore.”