Home of a mother, wife, writer

Today’s prompt wasn’t bringing anything to mind for me, so instead I decided to write a little bit from one of yesterday’s characters. Everything else I’ve written for them has been from Aidan’s POV, so I decided to do a little something from Ian’s.


I was still running the man’s words through my head as I scribbled a note for Aidan. The call had been a surprise. I still wasn’t sure exactly who it was, though the voice had almost seemed familiar. But, those words.

I have information about your boy, Aidan. It getting out could be dangerous for him. Meet me tonight at the top of the trail, and I’ll lend you a hand.

I still wasn’t sure if it was a threat or more of a warning. But, I wasn’t willing to let anything happen to him. Not now that we’d finally worked through everything and were finally together. Well, even if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have wanted anything to happen to him. But, especially not now. I’d almost lost him once, but I hadn’t let go then. I wouldn’t this time, either.

He’d probably be home soon, so I grabbed my hiking boots and a light jacket and headed outside. I needed to be gone first, otherwise he’d insist on going too. But, I wanted to know what we were facing before I let him know there was even something wrong.

I knew what people thought of me. That my head was in the clouds because I came up with fanciful scenarios. I came up with most of them because they made Aidan laugh. It didn’t mean I didn’t have a firm anchor to reality. Or that I wouldn’t do whatever it took to protect the man I loved.

I made it to the top of the trail and looked around. No one was there. I really hoped this wasn’t just an elaborate prank. if it was, I was going to be really upset. And how would I explain to Aidan why I was back already when my note said I’d gone climbing.

That was stupid anyway. He’d wonder why I’d gone alone. Why I’d gone so late. And why I’d gone when the weather was so likely to turn nasty. He’d probably come up after me, and that wouldn’t do any good.

I should have just ignored that phone call, like I usually did with a number I didn’t recognize. But, it had been local, so I’d assumed a friend had changed their number. I turned around and headed back for the trail. I’d just go back home and tell Aidan I’d changed my mind. The conditions weren’t good for climbing anyway.

I wouldn’t do that,” a voice called out. “Not if you want your boyfriend to keep living.”

That froze me in place. It was the same voice from over the phone. I was sure of it. “What do you mean?” I asked as I slowly turned. I recognized him as soon as I saw his face. A deputy with the county’s sheriff’s office. He was always strutting around town like nothing could ever touch him.

And now he was sneering at me. “I’m not stupid. I know the reason he broke my sister’s heart. I don’t see why shacking up with you was worth that.”

“He went on two dates with her,” I told him. “It’s not even like they were in a committed relationship, and he cheated. And he broke it off weeks before we ever-”

I didn’t see the blow coming, not expecting a man his size to move so fast. I stumbled back from the impact, one of my feet sliding in the loose gravel at the edge of the trail. I scrambled for purchase, knowing if I slipped here, I’d go right over. And no matter what I’d said in my note to Aidan, I hadn’t brought any climbing equipment.

But, the man advanced on me, grabbing the front of my jacket in his fist. “Better than killing him. As long as you’re gone, he’ll know what it’s like to have his heart as shattered as hers was. Otherwise I might have had to kill him, too.”

Then, he shoved, and there was no way for me to get my footing again. There was nothing below me but air. I grabbed for the rocks and felt skin rip off my hands. I barely even had time to think, I’m sorry, Aidan, before pain wrenched through me. Then, darkness wrapped around me, and there was nothing else.


Uh oh. Doesn’t look too good for Ian, does it? Of course, if you read yesterday’s story, you’ll know some of what happens next.

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