“Uh.” The guy looked uncertainly to Gen.
She gave him a nod, and the guy moved back to their booth.
“That was a bit gruff,” she whispered.
“I’m gruff.”
“I thought I’d choose a song.” The ends of her plaid scarf swungforward as she leaned over the selection. “I think I’m going to go with ‘Walk This Way’by Aerosmith. A classic.”
He was more of an INXS fan.
She pushed a coin into the machine. She’d repainted her nails since he’d seen her last. They were short, square, and burgundy.
The opening notes of “Walk This Way” played.
“You’ll be pleased to know,” she said, “that I gardened alone the other day and didn’t murder a single chive. I don’t think.” She looked right into his eyes. One edge of her lips tipped up.
In response, desire cut through him. Clean, hot, unmistakable.
“Your garden is safe with me,” she said.
But what about him? Was he safe with her? At this point, he’d gladly let her murder every vegetable he had if she’d just let him escape with his life. How was it possible that a temporary tenant who took too many painkillers but could preach like Billy Graham had turned his life upside-down to this degree? “Are you back to your schedule?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Here’s the thing. He could tell himself that she was a temporary tenant who took too many painkillers all he wanted. However, she couldn’t be explained that simply. Gen was much more to him than a tenant. Much more to him than Oxy. Much more to him than a preacher.
She was Genevieve, and he was terrified that he might love her.
It had given him no pleasure to react to their kiss the way he had. All he’d received out of it was the cold knowledge that he’d done the right thing. For seven years, that’s what his life had been. An endless series of right choices.
Now she was acting like she was content never to kiss him again, and he didn’t want her to be content with that, because he wasn’t.
He’d thought talking to her would make things easier. So far, it felt harder.
“I’m glad everything’s going well,” he said abruptly. “Catch you later.”
“Oh. Okay.” The lightheartedness in her tone informed him that she couldn’t care less whether he stayed or went.
He went, stalking into the night in a temper blacker than Kayden’s coffin.
Ben
I didn’t sleep much last night.
I kept waking up in a panic. Then I’d pray and pray and pray until a sense of calm would finally come over me. Then I’d think about my family, my house, my bedroom, and my dog until I fell asleep again.
Once, I had to go to the bathroom really bad. I tried to hold it and go back to sleep, but couldn’t. I felt my way to the corner of the space that we set up last night as a bathroom. We didn’t want anyone else to see or hear when we have to go, so we worked together to stack pieces of broken concrete until we made a wall almost as tall as me.
I busted one of my knuckles building that wall.
I’ve been pushing at that knuckle and trying not to think about how hungry I am while those of us who are awake stay quiet and wait for the other kids to finish sleeping. Finally Natasha, the last one to wake up, starts stirring. She blinks her eyes open and pushes herself to sitting. Her hair is a mess and her dress is dirty and there are gray circles under her eyes.
We all look terrible.
“I’m sure they’ll come for us,” Natasha says, mostly to me and her sister. “Very soon.”
