Addison leans her head against the chair seat, reaching out to rub Samantha’s chubby hand between her fingers. “Oh, sure, this one weighs a ton. I can tell. You’re really struggling.”
“Endless hardship.”
She laughs, hard to keep it in when his delivery is so dry and accompanied by that hint of a curve at the corner of his lips.
A scar on his thumb etched against dirty skin has her curious enough to ask, hoping she isn’t opening up something he wants to forget. “What is this from?”
“A saw in shop class my senior year. Lucky I didn’t lose the whole thumb.”
He offers her his hand to inspect, turning his palm over to reveal a myriad of other stories. She’s already tracing them with her fingertips before she can stop herself. She shouldn’t be so forward, but he hasn’t pulled away. If he’s leaving them soon, then she may as well indulge a little.
“How about you? Where’d this come from?” He rubs across a mark on her wrist, and there’s that shiver up her spine again, the one she blamed on the cold before.
“I touched the oven by accident, taking out some cookies. They weren’t even good.”
“Ain’t possible to make a bad batch of cookies.”
“Two dozen turned into one giant cookie, and the edges burned.”
“One big cookie sounds good to me. I always liked ‘em crispy. That wasn’t too frivolous, though?”
“It was a special occasion. I’ve gotten better. I’ll have to bake some if we can find the stuff for it…” she trails off, noticing too late how quiet and wispy her voice has become and how close they still are.
Her shoulder leans against his, their hands still lingering together like magnets. He shies away from physical touch as much as he can, so it’s a surprise he’s allowing it. Even more confusing when she’s convinced something’s wrong.
“There’s nothing here,” he says softly, lifting the baby’s hand with a finger. “No scars, no marks. She’s all brand new. Wonder how long that’ll last.”
“Probably not long.”
Not in this world. Not anymore. She’s lucky she made it this far, and the baby in her belly will be lucky if it sees the world at all. It’s still difficult to accept that something so innocent is in the line of fire, and all they have to do to earn that is to be born.
“Wyatt, can I ask you something?” she tries, figuring it’s now or never if she wants to get to the bottom of his sudden change in behavior.
At least he’s held down by a baby and can’t escape.
“Never,” he jokes.
“Is there something wrong…” She pauses, spying a book about the Washington mountains peeking out from his bag on the ground.
“For you to read up on it a bit, if you want,” he says, following her gaze. “All I know are the legends and ghost stories.”
“Oh, really? Like what?”
“Too many to count. Still not as many as the Blue Ridge out east, though. There’s a reason that place has the most folklore of all the mountain ranges. It’s older than bones, you know?”
She blinks. “Older than bones?”
“Mhmm. Those peaks existed long before we crawled outta the muck and grew legs. All those massive mountains out west ain’t got nothing on Appalachia in terms of time on this earth.”
“So of course, it’s infested with fairy tale creatures?” She smiles.
“Exactly.”
“I dunno, still sounds worth a visit to me.”
“Me too.”
She ducks her head, feeling foolish for having worried that he might be ditching them soon. Still doesn’t know why he’s been in a mood, but maybe she overreacted. She’s so traumatized by her past that she assumes one wrong move on her part might tumble this house of cards.
