Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

Bonus Scene

BONUS SCENE

MICAH

Rain falls in rapid, cleansing sheets. It soaks into the woodland that surrounds Briar Valley—pine and birch trees mostly, their trunks smooth as they stretch high above me to kiss the cloud-laced sky.

Petrichor lays thick in the air as the rain soaks into the ground, releasing the heady fragrance. Even dressed in a black puffer jacket I stole from Zach’s wardrobe, the evening dusk brings with it a frigid breeze that dimples my wet skin. I’m soaked to the bone.

It’s day three without art supplies. Caught in another depressive episode, I fucked up my timings and didn’t re-order quickly enough. Now I’m stuck waiting for my resupply delivery to arrive. Painting and sculpting are my lifeblood. The oxygen my lungs require.

Without my art, I have no way to release the swirling tornado of grief and despair that took root within me when our father died. When I stared at his dead body as a scared little kid, locked in the bathroom with a corpse until the authorities arrived, the first storm swept in.

I’ve been caught in sorrow’s hurricane ever since.

Trudging up the muddy incline, I’m almost back into town. Lola’s cabin isn’t far from here, in the centre of Briar Valley. The cabin I share with my twin brother, Zach, and our cousin, Killian, is secluded from the rest of the town and sits above the valley.

As the sun dips below the mountains, highlighting the individual raindrops, I follow the glowing warmth that emanates from the cabins through the tree line. I can see Lola’s home from here. It’s a sprawling monster surrounded by a cherry-red, wraparound porch.

Briar Valley is my home. The mountainous sarcophagus that imprisons my state of perpetual disillusionment. I stopped caring about the rest of the world a long time ago. Not even the comings and goings of Briar Valley’s residents holds my attention.

In many ways, I’m dead already.

Caught in the body of that traumatised child.

Dark thoughts swirl around my mind as I lumber on. At least when I’m knee-deep in clay or watercolours, I don’t have time to contemplate the sad state of existence I’ve created for myself. But inevitably, the paints run dry. That’s when my regrets bubble up.

I’m about to emerge into the clearing that leads through town when an unfamiliar sight stops me. A figure stands at the edge of Lola’s porch, observing the final streaks of fading sunlight that penetrate the storm clouds. But it isn’t our town’s formidable leader.

It’s a woman.

A stunning, bruised angel.

It isn’t her coal-black hair, hanging in perfect ringlets, or her curvaceous yet still bird-like frame highlighted by her drenched clothing that catches my attention. My brain filters through those details with vague interest, preoccupied by studying the look of pure contentment on her features.

She stares up at the stormy evening sky, her eyes flitting over the emerging stars peeking through the clouds like glittering diamonds. My feet freeze, rooting me to the spot, as a small smile plays across her lips. I can see her mouth moving, the words inaudible.

I don’t know what keeps me paralysed, unable to look away. It’s not like I haven’t seen a pretty girl before, though I’ve never had the confidence to approach one, unlike my twin—Briar Valley’s resident playboy. Zach is a ladies man, through and through.

The fascination flowing through me goes beyond mere physical attraction, though. As she toes off her shoes and walks barefoot down the porch, following the patter of raindrops still falling, her smile blossoms. And with it, my curiosity grows.

I watch her feet dig into the saturated grass, her eyes closing briefly like she’s savouring the feel of earth beneath her soles. My heart thunders painfully when she does the unthinkable. The mysterious stranger fucking twirls, dancing in the pouring rain.

Her head is thrown back, pink tongue outstretched to catch the sweet release of each raindrop. She spins in a haphazard spiral, smiling so broadly, it’s a wonder her mouth doesn’t split open. Dripping ringlets swing out all around her in a halo.

So beautiful.

My fingers are practically aching with the need to paint this ethereal being—to capture her visible relief, her gratitude, the way she radiates with childlike joy at the natural wonder all around her. A simple rainstorm has provoked that heart-stopping smile, and it fascinates me.

I should have more self-control, but before I know what’s even happening, my feet are carrying me forwards. I emerge from the woodland, stomping through the hammering rain. Panic lances through me as her head snaps in my direction, but it’s already too late to sprint back into the shadows.

Tightening my soaking wet coat, I contemplate whether or not to try it anyway. But she’s right in my path to home. I have no choice. My ever-present anxiety is spiralling out of control with each step closer to the woman I’ve been inadvertently spying on.

“Zach? What are you doing?”

Jaw clenching, my eyes dart around, searching for an escape route. Of course, she thinks I’m him. It isn’t often that I feel jealous of Zach—I care much less than I used to—but his ability to act like a functioning human being is something I’d happily steal.

Instead, I avoid eye contact as I reply.

“I’m not Zach.” My throat constricts tightly. “Wrong brother.”

The woman stares at me amidst the rainfall. Her apprehensive hazel eyes touch every part of me in an oddly intimate perusal that makes my spine tingle. I can practically see her cataloguing the small details that differentiate me from my identical twin brother.

“You’re not?” She tilts her head, droplets of water clinging to her thick lashes.

“I’m Micah.” I rub the back of my neck, cheeks burning with shame. “We haven’t met.”

“Micah?”

Her voice is a melodious tinkle, caressing my senses like the tips of a violinist’s fingers skating over bare strings. It holds me captive, beneath the piercing weight of her brown and green eyes, despite my embarrassment.

“Twins,” I explain hastily.

“I’m so sorry,” she rushes to apologise. “I didn’t know.”

Another hot burst of awkwardness threatens to hold my tongue hostage until I swallow it down.

“And you are?”

Bare feet shuffling, she glances around. Up close, I can see the bruises that mark her exposed skin in more detail. Her face is all shades of purple, green and yellow, swollen from what I assume was a severe beating. Only fists can leave bruises like that.

Who is this woman?

Why is she here?

And… why do I care?

“Uh, I’m Willow. New around here.”

In an attempt to suffocate the barrage of questions trying to spill out of me, I squint through the rainfall into the distance towards the valley. I knew I should’ve stayed home. My studio is a mess—I should be safely cleaning up in my isolated bubble right now.

A minuscule glimpse in my periphery tells me that she’s waiting for a response. Like any sane human would easily provide, right? If I were Zach, I could crack a joke, perhaps invite her over for coffee. Make her feel warm and at ease.

But I’m not Zach.

I’m only half a man.

With insecurity screaming through me, I lose what little courage I found to approach her. I can’t even say goodbye. My legs carry me through the bustling wind, back into the safety of darkness and shadows. It takes great self-control not to look over my shoulder.

The memory of her twirling in the wet grass follows me home. It’s like her ghost is dancing beside me, twisting and turning, soaking up each droplet of rain to savour the sweet thrill. Has she never felt rain before? What evil has she endured to appreciate a simple storm so much?

No, Micah.

Internally scolding myself, I stomp back to the cabin I share with my brother and cousin. I’m itching to escape into the studio to paint a frolicking figure in shades of charcoal, her ringlets spinning all around her, but I need to change out of my sodden clothes first.

I step inside, greeted by the sight of Killian and Zach watching television over a pack of beers. The hollering of football hooligans emanates from the screen as a game plays out. Their attention is fixed solely on me while I struggle to strip off Zach’s sopping-wet coat.

“You went hiking?” Zach frowns at me.

I shrug in response.

“In the rain?” Killian clarifies.

“It was dry when I left.”

“You’re soaked.”

“I’m fine,” I deadpan.

His blonde, scruff-covered jaw tightening, Killian looks away from me. He’s the mother hen. Which is a polite way of saying he’s annoyingly overprotective, to the point of damn near suffocation. The grumpy asshole loves to breathe down my neck.

“When’s your delivery coming in?” Zach asks pointedly.

My skin prickles with awareness.

“I dunno.”

“This week?”

He doesn’t need to stare at me to know what’s going on. Call it intuition or a twin thing, but he’s always had an uncanny ability to see past the crap I peddle to them when questioned. I wish he would just accept my shit excuses instead.

“Ryder’s going to let me know.”

“I could run into town,” he offers. “Pick up some emergency stuff?”

I shake my head. “It’s alright. You know I’m specific about my supplies.”

With a sigh, Zach nods. “Yeah.”

Turning away from them, I’m heading for a hot shower that’s calling my name when the question that’s burning my insides breaks free.

“Who’s the new girl?”

“Willow?” Killian immediately growls.

I glance over my shoulder. “We… crossed paths. What happened to her?”

His throat bobs, darkness crossing his rugged features. “A car accident, apparently. Load of shit if you ask me.”

“Why would she lie?” Zach counters.

“I’d imagine for all kinds of reasons. I don’t trust her.”

My twin chortles. “You don’t trust anybody, Kill.”

“Fuck off, kid.”

“Just telling the truth.”

Zach isn’t wrong. Our cousin is the mistrusting type. For all his fierce dedication to his family, he treats strangers with contempt. No one matters to him beyond those he’s deemed worthy of his love and attention.

“I’m going to find out why she’s here,” Killian vows menacingly. “And who the hell put those bruises on her.”

“Why do you care if it was an accident or not?” I blurt out.

His burnished-brown eyes flick over to me, full of accusation. “I don’t. Why do you?”

“I… I just…”

Trailing off, the heat that I thought I’d extinguished from my cheeks returns. They’re both staring at me again now. Awesome . Ignoring them completely, I shove through the door leading to the cabin’s hallway, letting it slam behind me.

Back in the safety of my room, I slump against the hewed wood. My breathing is heavy, rapid. The emotions I strapped on my hiking boots and headed out of town to escape have all flooded back. I know why I found her soft smile and palpable joy so enthralling.

Because I want to feel that.

I want to feel alive like she was in that moment.

But I know… I never will.