“I guess…” I suck in a sharp breath as I make myself say it. “I guess I’m still not sure if I’m made to be with someone that way.”
His gaze softens. His lips part slightly. “Baby, no one is made for it, and everyone is. We figure it out if we decide it’s a thing we want. So we can figure this out. I promise we can. But there’s no rush.”
“Okay. But I don’t want to keep hurting you while I figure it out.”
“Wefigure it out.”
“We.”
“You’re not hurting me. I’ve got more now with you than I ever dared to hope. I do want the day to come when we’re more thanwham, bam, thank you, ma’am.” He uses those words again to make me smile, and they work. “But I’m a patient man. And I’m very satisfied as I wait for the rest of it.”
21
As the days have passed,we’ve continued to have small groups and individuals approach our perimeter, wanting to join up with us.
It’s not surprising. There are a lot of people in the Central Cities who would love for things to change, who want to live freer, happier lives. But we’ve been getting increasingly careful about letting newcomers in, unless they have a connection to our trusted circle. The Capitol will still be trying every possible means to get to us, and sneaking someone into our midst under the guise of an ally is the most obvious method.
So we’ve only added a handful of new people since the ambush. It’s not worth the risk. Plus we’ve got the real Robin and all his people on our side now, so we aren’t desperate for additional numbers.
We need skill and luck and absolutely perfect timing.We don’t need to add numbers if it means risking another traitor.
But we added enough in the first couple of weeks after we took the outpost that I still don’t know everyone here personally. There are a lot of people I mentally callnew folks. They’ve been working out well, taking their turns on duty shifts and getting along with the rest of the group. But it doesn’t feel like I really know them, so I’ve been trying to spend some downtime hanging out with them to deepen the bonds so they feel more like trusted members of the group.
The day after my conversation with Ben in the storage room, a motley collection of newcomers are hanging out in the courtyard in the afternoon. Since we’re in a holding pattern here until we move on the Arsenal next week, there’s not much to do when not on duty. There are always groups scattered around during the days lounging and chatting.
Noticing most of this gathered group aren’t well known to me and having nothing else pressing to do, I walk over and ask if I can join them.
They’re openly pleased at the request. They make room to let me sit on the ground in their circle, and I ask them about their lives and backgrounds.
Most of them were born and raised in the same village—one about fifty miles away. From the way they describe it, the village sounds a lot like the one where Teresa and I lived. Most of the villages outside the Capitol are the same—made up of people doing the best they can in the narrow, restricted lives they’re given.
One of the men—named Harrow—is in his thirties and was trained as a woodworker. He’s been whittling a dog out of a stray chunk of wood he found, and I’m fascinated by the way it slowly takes shape.
Parker, another of the men, is younger. He has auburn hair and a ginger beard. He seems a friendly sort. He laughs a lot and stares at me with admiration.
I’m used to those looks and simply ignore them, answering him easily when he asks how I got started taking action against the government.
I keep my answers very vague, since there’s no way I’m going to put Teresa and Mason or even Ben’s family in danger by sharing details widely, but I give him a shortened version of my history. When Ben comes over, I’m still chatting, but I make room for him to sit beside me.
Ben doesn’t say anything as the conversation continues, but he doesn’t appear in a bad mood. He’s just always been quiet unless he has something to say.
Parker definitely has a crush. It’s more than obvious and becomes a little frustrating as the minutes pass. Especially when he gets up and walks over to sit on the ground on the opposite side of me from Ben.
I glance over and catch Ben’s eyes. He gives a small, barely perceptible eye roll. He’s used to men taking a physical interest in me and only has a problem when they try to act on it.
As Parker is asking me about how I learned to fight so well, he’s reaching into his trouser pocket. I notice it peripherally but don’t take much note.
Not until, as I’m explaining that it was Ben who taught me, Parker pulls a small knife out of his pocket, the kind where the blade flips up.
It’s strange, but it could mean anything.Anything. Even when he leans toward me, it could be for any number of reasons.
But it’s not for any of those harmless reasons.
Several things happen all at once.
I shift toward Ben and raise an arm in a blocking motion even before I see that Parker is actually lunging toward me with the knife. My move is instinctive and could have easily been covered had Parker not attacked.
My move is enough to block Parker’s lunge. His knife grazes my forearm instead of plunging into the side of my neck, where he was aiming. I automatically turn my motion into a roll, lifting both feet to slam them into Parker’s gut before I tuck them neatly and roll backward, farther away from him.
