Logan
“Move over, Eddie.” Britta dropped her tray onto the table with a clatter, sending bits of food flying in my direction. Covered in gore from her head to hands, she took the seat directly beside mine, tucked a napkin into the collar of her blood-soaked top and began to eat. Frowning, I shifted my chair quickly away from Britta’s, and closer to Willow’s.
“What is all over you?” Ella asked. “Is that…blood?” Ella, seated at the table across from Willow, wrinkled her nose in Britta’s direction.
“Sure is, sugar. Blood an’ guts an’ who knows what else. I was outside the wall pullin’ rabbits outta traps and this Dead Head shows up outta nowhere, grabbin’ my rabbit, playin’ fuckin’ tug-a-war with me.”Britta paused to scoop a spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. “Dang thing didn’t wantmeat all—just wanted my rabbit. Tore it right in half and got to eatin’.”
“Gross,” Ella muttered. “Couldn’t you have cleaned up before you came here?”
“An’ chance missin’ dinner?” Britta looked momentarily aghast before she resumed eating with vigor.
“I ever tell you guys the joke about the vulture who boarded an airplane with two dead rabbits?” Jordy asked, sending a wink in Willow’s direction. “And the flight attendant says, ‘sorry, mate, only one carry-on per passenger.’”
“What do you call a hundred rabbits eating backward?” EJ added. “A receding hare line.”
Ella scoffed. “Not funny,Elijah.”
EJ grinned at the scowling blonde. “Not funny toyoumaybe, GabriElla.”
Glancing at Willow, I found her watching the banter around the table with a small, amused smile. Meanwhile, I was contemplating gouging out my eardrums with the fork I was white-knuckling.
“I’m headed home,” I gritted out softly. With barely a glance in my direction, Willow only nodded in reply.
As I stalked my way toward the doors, laughter rang out loudly. Glancing back at the table I’d just departed, everyone was doubled over—even Ella was laughing—while Jordy rose from his seat and bowed dramatically.
Scowling, I pushed through the double doors, happy to leave the noise behind.So much for Willow wanting to avoid people.Beginning with Britta, each day over the past two weeks had brought about new dining companions. Jordy had appeared next, armed with jokes that weren’t funny, and flirting with Willow like his life depended on it. And Willow did nothing to dispel his attention. In fact, lately she seemed to be lapping it up. The tables had turned since high school; it was Willow who had a penchant for making friends now, whereas I’d become the outsider.
Inside the cabin, I reclaimed my tool belt and headed to my makeshift workbench—an old metal desk that fit nicely at the end of my bed. Rummaging through my tools, I began sanding a set of hanging shelves we’d been given. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with them, other than sand them down and slap some finish on them. Regardless, it felt good to keep my hands busy and mind occupied on things that didn’t involve Willow.
The workbench wasn’t the only new addition to the cabin—new-to-us curtains had replaced the tattered, torn ones, and a hand-me-down table and chairs graced a corner of the cabin. A small hand-braided rug sat in the center of the room and both bunk beds were fitted with clean sheets and covered in mismatched pillows and blankets. The clothing we’d both been slowly accumulating was neatly folded and put away inside our separate dressers… at least, my clothing was put away. Willow’s things were half shoved into open drawers and strewn over her unmade bed.
Yet, however homey the cabin was beginning to look, and however like a home it was starting to feel, I’d made sure to keep Lucas’s bag packed full of supplies, and stored directly under my bunk, ready to grab and go in the case of an emergency.
“We have… mail.”
Willow stood in the entranceway, staring down at a letter in her hand, as if she’d never seen one before.
Tossing my sandpaper aside, I turned to her. “What do you mean,we have mail?”
“I mean, we have literal mail. Look, it’s even addressed to us.” Moving closer, Willow waved the envelope around. “Willow and Logan, Silver Lakes Community, Cabin Twelve.” She chuckled. “They even made it sound official.”
I snatched the envelope from her. Sure enough, someone had written our names together—Willow and Logan—as if we were a pair, a couple even.Before I could think too long or hard on that particular notion, I flung the envelope toward the table and turned back to my workbench, quickly reclaiming my sandpaper.
“Who brought it?” I asked, as I resumed sanding.
“Davey, I think.”
Choking on a laugh, I cleared my throat. “Davey’s the fucking mailman?”
“Davey is whatever Leisel and Joshua want him to be… oh my god, Logan,it’s a wedding invitation.”
Willow had torn open the envelope, letting it flutter to the floor. Holding a small yellow index card, she scanned the card, her eyes widening. “Maria and James invite you to join in the celebration of their wedding on Saturday, August fifteenth. The ceremony and reception will take place in the dining hall. Five p.m.” Willow glanced up at me, perplexed. “A wedding? People still do that?”
Bending down, I scooped up the shredded envelope and shoved it in my pocket. “Who are Maria and James?”
“They’re Maria and James—I mean, Jim. You know, they have that weird little kid who never stops talking about his dead grandpa?”
“Great,” I muttered. “My favorite person.”
