A young doctor unexpectedly finds herself forced to indoctrinate into a paramilitary organization, where a stoic hero silently falls in love. Slowly, he earns her trust. The love between them burns away the darkness of the past and acts as a beacon...
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Mack lit a second cigarette, and he lumbered back towards the cabin. "And take care of the horses while you're out here." He called over his shoulder.
Solan and I watched him walk away, leaving us alone in the night.
"How the fuck do you know Mackenzie Sunderland?" Solan asked.
I gazed softly at Solan. I've grown accustomed to being past his defenses, and I feel out of place now that I'm outside his walls. I pushed my spirit towards him, trying to lure my Solan from behind his fortress.
"It's good to see you, Solan," I said sincerely.
"I'm not exchanging pleasantries." He snapped.
I shrugged. "Okay." I complied, refusing to take offense to his attitude. I turned towards the stable, interested in the shelter for his sake. He doesn't like the cold, and he looks dressed for a warmer climate than this one.
"Remember how I said I used to work on the docks?" I asked while opening the stable door.
Solan nodded, guiding me inside before entering himself.
"That's how I know him," I explained.
"I felt your unease a few hours ago. Did Mack make you feel that way?" Solan asked, anchoring his eyes to mine in search of truth.
"Kind of," I murmured, feeling embarrassed. "Is that why you're here? I didn't mean to distract you. I'm sorry." I rambled, feeling horrible for pulling him away from work because of my unmanaged emotions.
"Why does Mack cause you so much unease?" He asked, pinholes of protectiveness pricked through his words.
"The last time I saw Mack, my family was still alive," I explained with soft words, trying to defuse him. "After their death, I moved, and I never saw him again. Well... until a few hours ago. His face brought back a lot of memories, is all."
Solan nodded, running his hands through his hair contemplatively.
Before he could press for more, I asked a question of my own.
"How are you doing?" I asked softly.
"I'm not here to talk." He answered curtly and without hesitation.
I lifted my brows. "Okay." I returned carefully, unsure of where to steer the conversation. "Do you... need something from me?" I asked cautiously.
His jaw synched shut, and the muscles at the hinge flexed under the force of his silence, which settled painfully between us. An uncomfortable amount of time passed, and when it was clear he would not speak, I did.
"Solan, I'm worried about you," I said, stepping forward.
"Don't be." He said in an angry, but simple command.
