Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

14. Micah

CHAPTER 14

MICAH

THE VIEW BETWEEN VILLAGES - NOAH KAHAN

Stuffing bottled water, granola bars and sachets of energy gel into my backpack, I throw a paint-splattered hoodie over my head and take a final glance around my messy studio. It’s in even more chaos than usual after my latest bout of depression hit.

I’ve been waiting on a delivery of art supplies and the disruption to my routine when these episodes hit is proving difficult to handle. Keeping busy with my hands is the only thing that allows me to keep the darkness in my mind at bay.

I’m itching to escape.

I’ll drown if I don’t run.

With my walking boots laced up, I heave my backpack onto my shoulders and head outside. Killian and Zach are working around the town this afternoon, battening down the hatches in preparation for a big storm that’s blowing in tomorrow.

We’ve dealt with extreme weather for a long time. It’s a pitfall of living in the mountains. When the storms come, they hit hard, but usually blow themselves out pretty quickly with minimal damage.

“Hey, Micah,” Albie calls out. “Off hiking?”

“Yeah. I’m heading out now.”

In the garage behind him, Ryder is working on his newest treasure, an old VW beetle covered in peeling green paint. It looks ready for the trash heap. They have a knack for finding crappy cars and restoring them to their former glory for profit.

“Tell your brother that he still owes me for a tank of fuel.” Albie slides back under the car with a spanner in hand. “And those damn cigarettes too.”

“Sorry, Al. I’ll let him know.”

“You better.”

Ryder appears from the garage, wiping his hands off on his overalls. “You gonna go through the overpass? There’s a storm coming in.”

“It’s set to make landfall tomorrow. I’ll be fine.”

He studies me for a moment, seeing far more than I’d like. Ryder is like a brother to me. The four of us grew up here together, running from grief and loss. I’m the only one that didn’t make it out the other side of that particular storm.

“Run out of supplies again?” Ryder hazards a guess.

“They’re due to come in next week.”

“That long, huh?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

Ryder knows as well as anyone that my art keeps me alive. Without it, functioning is excruciating. I’m forced to interact and remember that the world exists around me.

My old therapist said it does more harm than good to isolate myself, but I told him to go fuck himself and never went back. I don’t need anyone attempting to rationalise the madness that runs riot inside my brain.

“I’ll speak to Kill and see if there’s anything we can get in town.”

I cast him a weak smile. “Thanks, man.”

“You got it. Go hike, sort your shit out. Just be careful.”

“Always am.”

Leaving him to continue his repairs, I set off and traipse down the winding path leading back into town. Harold waves at me from his garden when I pass, his hands buried in his vegetable patch. Everyone else is preparing for the storm to arrive.

Reaching the edge of the forest that leads back up into the mountains, a heart-wrenching sound drags my feet to a halt. Crying. It’s coming from inside the crop field. The soft sobs and occasional whimper daggers me in the heart.

Cursing myself for giving a shit, I duck through the towering stalks of corn and barley, searching for the source of the noise. It doesn’t take me long to find her tumbling black locks and tear-logged hazel eyes hidden in the shrubbery.

Willow is curled up with her knees to her chest. I’m unable to walk away as I usually would at the sight of someone else’s pain.

“Willow?” I ask softly.

Her head snaps up. “Micah. What are you doing here?”

I gesture towards the trees. “Hiking.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay?”

Wiping her red-stained face, she doesn’t bother to nod when it’s clear that she’s not alright. Dropping my backpack, I sit down next to her, both of us hidden by the coverage of crops. We’re alone in this slice of solitude.

“Do you want to talk?” I pause, unsure of myself. “You don’t have to though. I don’t like talking, but some people do. Like Zach, he’s a talker. Ryder too.”

She blinks, speechless.

“I’m rambling. Forget I said anything.”

“Wait, Micah.”

Her hand shoots out to grab mine before I can flee, and her sparkling hazel eyes beg me for relief. She’s alone in the world while surrounded by people who don’t understand how she feels. I know exactly how awful that invisible prison is.

“Please don’t go,” she pleads.

“Uh, sure. Okay.”

Sitting back down, we lapse into silence, listening to the sound of far-off voices. Nobody can find us here. I pick a stalk of unripe corn, stripping apart the plant to keep my hands busy until there’s nothing but husks left.

“No painting today?”

I shake my head. “Waiting on supplies. I was going to hike.”

“I didn’t know you liked hiking. Do you go often?”

“Only when I have to.”

Willow fiddles with her left hand, twisting a golden band around her wedding finger. Married . No one mentioned a husband to me. Not that I’ve been having casual conversations with anyone, including my own family.

“Is your husband here?” I blurt.

“No,” she answers in a panic. “He’s not here.”

“I see. The kid’s dad?”

Willow nods nervously. “We came here for a fresh start.”

“Well, this is a good place to get lost.”

The way she looks at me sets my teeth on edge with anxiety. I’m so used to running and hiding from everyone to avoid the awkwardness of interacting with them. I hate the way she seems to know everything about me with a single innocent look.

“Are you here to get lost, Micah?”

“Some people don’t want to be found in the first place.”

“I thought I was coming here to get lost,” she reveals with a hiccup. “Part of me wonders if we shouldn’t have come at all.”

“Why?”

Willow shrugs. “It was easier to pretend like I’m fine when I was alone.”

“Because you don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not, right?”

Her eyes flit over to me. “Yeah.”

“I understand what that’s like. Being alone feels safer somehow.”

I have no idea where this burst of raw honesty has come from. I’ve never opened up like this, not even to a professional. Something inside of her calls out to me—dragging the despair from my soul and offering to dance.

“You don’t have to be alone forever,” she whispers.

“Trust me, no one out there wants to be around someone like me.”

“Why not? You’re a good person, Micah.”

I glance up at her, my throat constricted. “I’m damaged goods.”

Her hand tentatively reaches out to cradle mine. I don’t move. It feels weird, letting someone touch me. Her palm is warm and dry. I can almost feel the anguish pumping through her veins.

“You are not damaged goods,” she says fiercely.

“I don’t need you to comfort me. I’m okay with being alone.”

Her dark eyelashes flutter. Intelligence and curiosity writhe in her gaze as her eyes search mine. The bruises on her face are nearly healed after a few weeks, revealing the natural beauty that first ensnared me.

There’s something about the way that Willow wraps her pain around herself, forming an almost-visible armour to keep the world at bay. She looks like a fallen angel, all broken dreams and pain, wrapped into a shell of bittersweet beauty.

I tried to paint her last week, but I couldn’t do it. Her tentative smiles and glimmers of hopeful optimism can’t be reduced to paint on a canvas, no matter how much I want to immortalise my memory of her for when she disappears.

“What about you?” I make myself ask.

“Huh?”

“Are you lonely?”

Willow curls her hand around mine. “Sometimes. I’ve never really had any friends or people close to me. But that felt normal, even if it wasn’t.”

“It was your normal. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“That doesn’t help other people understand though. Everyone wants me to feel safe here like I can somehow forget about the past. My normal isn’t feeling safe.”

I stare down at our interlinked hands. It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s feeling something pretty fucking dark. The look in her eyes is something I’ve seen staring back at me every time I look in the mirror. Existence carved from inescapable pain.

“Maybe that’s okay.” I absently stroke her knuckles, tracing each vein. “You’re allowed to feel the way that you do. No one can rush you into feeling at home here.”

Willow tilts her head. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“Just a thought.”

“Did you feel at home when you came here?”

My throat locks up with a wash of grief. “I’ve never felt at home. My home died. When Killian’s folks took us in, all I saw in their love was the potential for loss.”

“Because of your dad’s death?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t separate the two.”

Fuck knows why I’m spilling my soul among unharvested crops to a woman I’ve known for a matter of weeks. Willow is little more than a stranger to me. Somehow, there’s comfort in that. She can’t judge me like my family can.

Knowing that the same darkness festers inside of her makes me feel seen. Nobody else has ever made me feel like that. They can empathise, perhaps even care, but they can’t understand. Not without living inside my head.

“Killian knows a bunch of therapists.” I force myself to release her hand, though I don’t want to. “In case you wanted to talk to someone.”

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Someone qualified. I’m just… me.”

Willow offers me a sad smile. “Micah, I have a feeling you’re far more qualified than any shrink to talk to me about this.”

The sound of my choked laugh is foreign. “Killian sent me to a therapist for most of my teens and early twenties. I gave up a year or so ago. I think I’m beyond fixing.”

“Maybe you don’t need to be fixed. You said it first. Not everything has to be okay.”

“Tell that to him. He’s determined to make me normal.”

An unfamiliar ache sears beneath my skin as I subtly watch her from the corner of my eye. I don’t know what I’m feeling. My hike feels pointless now. I’d rather sit here and talk to Willow for another hour, or even longer.

Staying detached has been my saving grace. It’s kept me alive as we suffered loss after loss. So much death has a way of changing the way you see the world. Caring for others becomes more potential for loss.

But with her, I’m yearning for something that I can’t find in myself. An intimacy. A closeness that my lifeless clay and pallets of oil paint can’t provide.

“Anyway,” she says hoarsely. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

I nod reluctantly. “Anytime.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“Friend?”

Her smile is so pure and innocent. “I could use a friend.”

“I’ve… never had one of those before.”

“You don’t have to,” she rushes out.

“No,” I cut her off. “I’d like that.”

Willow opens her arms to offer me a hug. Seized by fear, I bury it down deep and let myself be drawn into her embrace. Her hair smells like strawberries, sweet and sugary. Lola’s endless supply of homemade cookies has left a homey perfume on her clothes.

Holding my breath for fear of doing something wrong, I feel her arms wind around my neck to draw me closer. With my head buried in her throat, I take a deep inhale, smiling to myself. Somewhere inside of me, a switch is flipped.

She smells like home.

I’d forgotten what it felt like.

As we break apart, instinct overcomes me. I’m not sure how I end up cupping her cheek, my thumb tracing over the freckles that stain her skin. Her eyes are giant saucers, uncertain of the magnetic force wrapped around us both.

“I should go,” I rasp.

“So should I.”

But neither of us moves. We’re still entwined—two autumn leaves dancing in the breeze, wrapped around each other for the show. I’m untethered, falling through my carefully constructed reality, but she’s there to catch me.

My lips brush against hers in the briefest, most hesitant kiss. Common sense has packed up, cleaned house and moved the hell out of my brain. This is a stupid fucking idea, but it doesn’t stop me from kissing her again.

I need us to be closer, connected, our souls suffused together somehow. I can’t stand the space left between us. With a sharp intake of breath, she suddenly kisses me back. Heat zips across my skin and floods my entire body with tingles.

Mouths locked, we move together in a perfect, unchoreographed harmony. It feels so right to let her capture my bottom lip between her teeth, gently tugging to deepen the kiss. Hidden by swaying crops, I surrender myself to her.

“Mi,” she breaks the kiss to gasp.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Kissing along her jawline, I suck the delicate flesh of her throat into my mouth. Her tiny, adorable moans for attention have me rock hard in seconds. I want to taste every single inch of her body and mark it as mine.

Hands skating down her arms, I find my way inside her coat to grasp the generous curves of her hips. The inferno scorching inside of me is heightened by her mouth attacking mine again.

I want more.

I need more.

She’s bringing me back to life.

A bellow from nearby forces us to jump apart. As quickly as the haze of desire descended, it dissipates and leaves me cold. My dick is almost bursting out of my jeans, aching with the need to be touched.

Fuck, this is embarrassing.

I’m shamefully inexperienced.

Being a mountain recluse doesn’t exactly equate to much dating experience, let alone with my own crap on top of that. I have no idea what I’m doing here. Internally freaking out, I put some distance between us.

“Micah?” she questions, her gaze worried.

“I don’t… ah, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Disappointment warps her features. “I’m so sorry. My head is a mess. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

I avoid her stare. “It’s my fault for starting it. Killian and Zach… they both care about you a lot. They would be better friends than me.”

“What? Micah, no?—”

“I should go.”

Willow flushes a dark shade of red as I climb to my feet, feeling like a complete and utter asshole. I never should have done this. I’m not blind. Killian and Zach have grown close to Willow already. They don’t treat all new residents like this.

They’re better men than me, and far more capable of looking after her. I can’t even look after myself on a good day. She deserves far more than that. Opening up to her was a mistake.

“Micah? Please don’t go.”

“I can’t be your friend, Willow. I’m not capable of it.”

My heart implodes into spectacular pieces when she begins to cry. All I want is to lay her down in the crops and kiss her again, over and over, only stopping when she’s crying out my name.

Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to mean something to someone. She’s so close, almost within reach, but the chasm between us is impassable. I can’t bridge that gap and be the man she needs right now. That’s why I have to walk away.

“Just answer me one thing.”

I stop, on the verge of bolting.

“Was that your first kiss?” Willow asks tearfully.

Flooded with shame, I have to unlatch my jaw to answer.

“Yeah, it was.”

Without looking up to see her reaction, I grab my backpack and run away at full speed. Storm clouds are gathering, but I can’t go back to my empty studio. Not after that. My lifeless existence holds absolutely no appeal now that I’ve tasted her lips.

Taking the path that leads to Mount Helena, I ignore the rising winds and start hiking out of town. Willow doesn’t follow me and I’m glad. I can’t turn around and see her face again or I won’t be able to make myself abandon her.