“And we’ve no time to wash the things between whiles,” I whispered.
“What’s that?” Jordy asked.
I shook my head and looked away, surprised to find that we’d walked into an area of camp full of cabins, several of which were in various states of repair. A construction crew bustled to and fro between buildings, shouting to be heard over the sound of tools. As I scanned the numerous faces, my gaze halted on the only one I recognized.
Logan was seated astride a long beam at the top of a newly built structure, his blond hair glowing gold in the sun, his tool belt strapped around his waist, a hammer in hand. Plucking a nail from the several pressed between his lips, he held it in place as he nailed it in; he repeated this until he’d run out of nails, he paused to pull his shirt up, using the hem of it to wipe the sweat from his face.
“I’m gonna hit up a mate real quick,” Jordy said. “You don’t mind, do ya?”
“No,” I replied, waving him off. “Go ahead.”
While Jordy walked away, I looked back to Logan, startled to find his narrowed gaze clashing with mine. If Logan was surprised to see me, his stern features gave nothing away. Staring at one another, I found myself thinking about my hair again—how pretty it had looked in the mirror—and the unmistakable feeling of guilt began to stir in my belly. The longer we stared at one another, the guiltier I felt—guilt for thinking about something as frivolous as hair. Guilt for taking a shower, and having enjoyed it, too. And the worst guilt of all—the guilt that had left me unable to get out of bed, unable to face my new reality, the reality where I was alive and Lucas was not.
“Ready?” As Jordy returned to my side and Logan’s eyes flicked to the slim, shirtless man beside me, I dropped my gaze, feeling suddenly embarrassed for reasons I couldn’t quite explain. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I limped quickly down the path, feeling Logan’s hard stare burning holes into my back.
