Rainbow Lyrics and Mellow Mushrooms: WIP Wednesday: Don't you give up on us (Shedding Lies-Comet Lake Chronicles Book 6)

The bridge swayed and he stumbled, nearly losing his footing. Even as he reached out for one of the ropes to steady himself, the voice in the back of his mind screamed why. Out here he was alone. Should something befall him, no one would be the wiser. No one would look, and no one would have reason to care. He was all used up. Didn’t even have the stomach anymore for the things he’d always done to protect the club.

His family.

His home.

But the truth of it all was right now, he didn’t have a home. He had a room in the lodging hall that was more a place to store his things than a place in which to live.

Even as the bleak thoughts took hold of his mind and began to take root, he knew he was sliding sideways into a well mired in self-pity and half-truths. His sister and her mates would care, those pups would care, the friends, and brothers who’d been his constant companions for decades would care and they would hunt for answers. They wouldn’t leave things alone.

He couldn’t put them through the wondering.

Even as he thought it, he realized that he couldn’t put himself through the trauma of such vicious, heartless behaviors anymore either. It weighed too heavily upon him, like blood, sticking to his skin, stubbornly refusing to come off.

Like in the shower, after he’d torn that jackal open and watched him bleed.

How could hands that could do that turn around and pick up a pup, cuddle them, and carry them among the pines to play and hunt?

How was he supposed to reconcile the different sides of himself and not see a hypocrite when he looked in the mirror?

He couldn’t, that’s how.

One foot in front of the other he made his way to the other side of the bridge, foot breaking through a rotten board and sending him crashing sideways against the timbers. His hip hit first, followed by his shoulder, pain from old injuries a reminder that he wasn’t as young as he was the last time he’d made this trek.

The river was a little closer from this vantage point, the churning of the water much wilder as he peered over the edge of the bridge staring down into it. A cool wind made the hair on the back of his neck stand up seconds before he heard the crack of rifle fire.

He expected pain, only to feel nothing but another gust of wind. A second shot joined the first, coming from a slightly different direction and Baz knew with sudden clarity he was about to wander into someone’s hunt.

Not a wise thing to do when you have no idea who was doing the shooting or how good of a shot they were. Tugging his foot free of the boards, he righted himself and turned back the way he came, though no more gunshots filled the valley.

A good sign, hopefully. It was never a good thing for a hunter to lose their prey, especially when there were family and pups involved. Once, he and Charlie had plans for that to be them, only they never would have hunted with weapons, only teeth and claws. Melancholy descended again, leaving him clumsy and a bit off balance, distracted enough that as he reached the edge of the bridge, he forgot the boards that had cracked ominously early in his trek. His thoughts were on decades-old dreams, so much so that he lacked the presence of mind to grab hold of anything when they gave way beneath him. With a suddenness that took his breath away, he dropped through space, arms windmilling, feet kicking as if looking for a purchase that never came.

Striking the water was like getting thrown from his bike and landing on the pavement, the smack of it sickeningly hard and so swift it took his brain several seconds to register the pain. By then, his head was underwater, so the breath he sucked in was a wet, suffocating one. Choking, he struggled to get his head above the surface, even as the current dashed him against a couple of rocks. His boots and clothing weighed him down and kept him from shifting, the swiftness of the water kept him disoriented and unable to work out which way was up. He took another breath, but that was water again, and there were so many voices in his mind, reaching out to touch base and check on him, that he couldn’t believe he'd been on the verge of giving in to the misguided thought that no one would look for him if he was gone.

From the sound of things, they were looking for him now, some more frantically than others. There was the faint buzzing of Kale trying to make clearer contact and a loud, demanding roar that was unmistakably Charlie, wanting to know where the fuck he was.

Air.

Gulping, he reached out with shaky fingers, trying to find purchase on something, anything, before the river spun him around and sucked him under again. His back struck another of those god damned boulders hard enough to drive that precious lungful of water right back out of him, and once again he was choking, his vision narrowing down to a tunnel of ever-darkening spots.

It dawned on him then that he wasn’t getting out of this, and for as much as he’d wanted all of his pain and disappointment to end, it sucked that it should be like this. Desperate, he thrashed, flailed, and managed to struggle his way to the surface again, draw in air, and reach out with questing fingers. His sodden hair and the water in his eyes made it difficult to see anything more than water and rocks, but one of them….

Yes.

As the river spun him towards it, Baz welcomed the crash and even braced for it, wrapped his arms around it when he hit, and clung to that slippery surface with every shred of desire he had in him. His lungs burned as he coughed, trying to clear them, wheezing and choking as he tried choking air in too. His chest hurt, his body ached, but the dark spots were clearing and the bolder wasn’t too fat for him to keep his arms locked around, anchoring him in place.

I swear to fuck, if you don’t fuckin’ answer me there will be hell to pay when I find you!

Charlie again, and he sounded clearer as he growled in Baz’s head.

River.

Which one?

Beneath the old swinging bridge.

Are you out of your fuckin’ mind that bridge is rotten?

No shit.

Can you get out?

Not without almost drowning again.

Then stay where the fuck you are.

Working on it.

You better be!

He’d have laughed if he could have breathed well enough to manage it. Even concerned Charlie just sounded pissed off and aggravated with him.

Which fuckin’ end, cliff or valley?

Cliff

Fuck.

Tell me about it.

It would be harder for Charlie to get down there, especially if he was alone. Would be even harder for him to get to Baz, no matter which form he took. The river wasn’t playing today, and the last thing he wanted was for his mate to get caught in the same mess that had almost killed him.

Might still kill him, the voice in the back of his head reminded him.

Yeah, there was that chance too, and it wasn’t one he wanted Charlie to have to witness.

Need you to listen to me, Baz thought, reaching out to him again. I don’t want you to come down here.

I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.

Just listen to me, okay, for once just… allow me to say what I need to.

The only thing you need to do is stay put and wait for us to find you.

For more than a decade, mates Baz and Charlie have lived separate lives. Baz has spent much of it on the road as the president of the Howling Devils Motorcycle Club, protectors of the Comet Lake Pack, and one of the biggest contributors to the pack's financial success. Charlie, on the other hand, has spent most of that time trying to move past the accusations that cost him five years of good standing among his friends and family. Between bitterness, loneliness, and a longing for the truth, he continues to harbor ill will towards his mate, even after Baz keeps his promise about walking away should he ever find the wolf meant to be their third. Now Kale is living with Charlie, wanting to learn more about Baz, and struggling to process the events that landed him at Comet Lake.
A licensed teacher, Kale struggled to abide by his former packs’ strict adherence to social class status, especially when it came to the education of the packs’ pups. He never believed that learning should be restricted and sought to give all his students an equal education, despite how many times he was reprimanded for not following the school’s curriculum. When they couldn’t control him, his old pack sought to be rid of him and his progressive way of thinking, even if that meant betraying him in the process. Their loss has become Comet Lake’s gain, as his new pack is beyond excited to have another educator in their midst, especially one who cares more about the pups’ futures than any fur he might ruffle. Now he’s helping to create a new classroom where those who struggle with focus and sensitivity issues will have a chance to thrive without being overwhelmed. As a bonus, it’s his mates who have been tasked with bringing that new room to life, and he cannot wait to see the results of their collaboration.

If they can set aside their feuding ways to work together and embrace the bonds of brotherhood
that they once shared, it just might bring them one step closer to becoming the bonded triad the
fates intended for them to be. Unfortunately for the trio, the struggles they’ve left behind haven’t
finished wreaking havoc on their lives. If they are to have any hope of a future, they must first shed the lies of the past and reveal the truths they’ve long kept hidden.