Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
What a load of bullshit. Ned had hated Lars so much he’d even blamed the wolf attack on him.
“And you’re lying to me again,” Cole said, taking a step closer to Ned. He’d learned to spot cheats from a mile away after Ned’s betrayal, and the way Ned’s lip twitched told him everything.
“Would it really hurt to have a glass of wine like civilized people? Isn’t that why you shaved me? To be more… civilized?”
Cole had shaved him because he wanted to see Ned’s face. For his own selfish needs, but this? He wouldn’t have cared if Ned started drinking again if the past truly were in the past. The secret he’d carried in his heart for so long and only voiced at the gallows still rang true. He couldn’t stay with Ned if he didn’t want to fall into him again, but he didn’t want him to live like an animal either.
Hell. It was hell.
“So that’s how you want it? To just go back to drink and let it eat through your mind completely? If I visited and saw you in that kind of state again, I’d immediately turn away and leave you to the wolves and fleas.”
Ned caught just one thread in that sentence. “You’d visit?”
Cole should have never said that, but when faced with that question, he was overcome with a longing to step closer and take Ned’s hand—
“Haven’t thought about it. I could if I were around.”
“For the winter maybe. Could be nice. I’d stock up on food and firewood. We could make music. You wouldn’t have to do nothing, just enjoy yourself.”
It did sound appealing, and that was exactly why Cole needed to nip this attachment in the bud. Starting with preventing Ned from drinking once he was gone. He walked past him and grabbed a wooden crate filled with jars of moonshine. “Take the other one.”
Ned groaned, but followed the order. His sour expression said that he knew what was coming.
“It’s for your own good. You must see that you already look better,” Cole said, appealing to Ned’s newfound vanity.
His skin remained pale and puffy in places, but he still looked very much like the strong, handsome man Cole had met years ago. His hair oil didn’t smell of anything though, and Cole wondered whether there was any dried rosemary in the pantry to make an infusion. Not that it mattered.
“Do I? Look good?” Ned asked with those needy puppy eyes fixing on Cole as they made their way out of the house and stepped into the dusky afternoon. At least that took them off the topic of ‘shine.
“What do you see in the mirror?” Cole asked and stopped by Lars’s grave, placing the crate next to it.
“I don’t know. A man.” Ned shrugged and followed Cole’s lead.
Ned O’Leary was definitely not just a man. He was a bit wirier than Cole remembered, but still tall and strong, with the brightest green eyes that twinkled when he smiled, and a dusting of freckles that made him appear younger. Cole chose to not voice any of that.
“I think we should let Lars have all that booze. He needs it most.”
Ned scowled. “Taking what’s mine even from beyond the grave.”
“If this is about me, you should think twice. I was never his, and I am not yours. Do we understand each other?” Cole asked and poured the contents of the first jar onto the hard mound of dirt surrounded by snow.
Ned rubbed his forehead and actually mewled. Cole didn’t know if it was for the booze or the dismissal he’d gotten, and preferred it that way.
“Go on, join me,” Cole said and splashed the sharp-smelling liquor by rapidly extending his arm, but his gaze remained on Ned, who needed to understand that this painful moment was for his own good.
Ned grabbed one of the jars and opened it, but wouldn’t let it go, and the moonshine trembled in his hand until some of the booze drizzled down his fingers. He took a deep breath, hid his face in the crook of his shoulder, and let out a sob.
Cole stiffened, cold and unsure what to do, but Ned wouldn’t stop weeping, as if he were inconsolable after the loss of an old friend.
Cole’s fingers tingled with the need to comfort Ned, but the less they touched the better, and as the sobs got more intense, he took a deep breath and made the mourning dove coo. He’d never mastered the technique Ned used, and it came out as a pathetic squeak, but he hoped Ned would understand what it meant, so he repeated a few times.
“I… It’s… it’s just so hard to be sober,” Ned uttered through his tears, finally tipping the jar.
The alcohol splashed onto the frozen earth, creating thin rivulets that soaked into the snow. Chained to the wall, smacked around, even at the gallows, Ned had always managed to stay calm. This was the first time Cole had seen this new Ned break down, and while his heart longed to pull him close, it was obvious that he shouldn’t. Not if he wanted to ever leave this place.