Page 70 of One Merciful Moment

Ashley wiped her face with shaking hands. "What?"

"It's better if we tell you in person. We should be there a little after one o'clock."

Ashley nodded even though Jillian couldn't see her. Before hanging up, she gave her the address.

Setting the phone down, she stayed kneeling in the grass. Her breath still catching. Her heart still aching. The whirlwind of emotions was making its own storm.

She pressed the phone to her chest.

At least she wasn't alone. The others were coming to her. She would have a piece of Boone back.

Chapter 41

Boone

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The mower roared to life. Boone pushed it across the courthouse lawn in straight mechanical lines. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Copper had insisted everyone get back to their routines and keep Everstill balanced, keep themselves steady.

Boone pushed faster, cutting the corner. His hands gripped the handle until his knuckles ached.

Halfway through the grass, his hands began to shake. Not the tremble of exhaustion or from the morning chill. Violent, uncontrollable shaking, like the kind he used to get when he was coming off drugs.

His fingers twitched. His palms grew slick with sweat. His breathing turned ragged.

He stopped and stared at his hands.

This wasn't withdrawal from a substance.

This was withdrawal from Ashley. From not having her beside him. Missing her laugh. Not feeling her touch. Unable to hear her voice. The absence of her body wrapped around him.

She had become the thing his body needed to function.

She was his addiction.

He stepped back from the mower. The machine sputtered against the grass, still running, but he couldn't touch it. He turned and ran, escaping the routine. It wasn't what he needed.

He sprinted down the road, lungs burning. Buildings flashed past him. The world narrowed to a single point ahead. The barrier.

The invisible wall where Everstill ended and everything else began.

He skidded to a stop before it. The air shimmered faintly in front of him like heat rising off pavement. He reached out and pressed his palm against the solid, cold, unmoving barrier.

"No," he whispered. "No, no, no."

He slammed his fist into the barricade. Pain shot up his arm, but he didn't care. He hit it again. And again. And again. His knuckles split. Blood smeared across the invisible surface.

His breath came in ragged gasps, each one more desperate than the last. "Give her back!"

He pounded his fists until they were slick with blood, until the skin tore off the backs of his fingers, until he couldn't feel. Until they were numb.

But he couldn't numb his emotions.

"Please," he begged, pressing his forehead to the barrier. "Please give her back. She belongs to me."

The veil didn't move. No darkness arrived. No clap of thunder shook the earth.