“Oh, come on, Logan. It might be fun.”
“No way, I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
“Why would I?”
“To see what it’s like—obviously. The same reason people used to go to zoos—to see things they haven’t seen before.”
“First,” I told her. “I’ve already been to a wedding—I don’t need to see what it’s like. And second, did you just compare Silver Lake to afucking zoo?”
Willow pursed her lips. “I hadn’t meant to, but now that you mention it—it’s kind of like we’re in a cage, right?” She shrugged. “Maybe we should start charging the Creepers admission?”
Despite myself, I barked out a laugh. Willow’s gaze shot to mine, her eyes growing wide.
“Logan, did you just…laugh?”
My mouth flattened. “No.”
“Yes, you did!” Grinning, Willow was bouncing in her seat, pointing at me. “I saw it. I heard you. That’s twice in two weeks!”
“I wasn’t laughing,” I growled, even as my lips twitched. The sight of her—happy in a way I hadn’t seen her since losing Lucas—was making me feel all sorts of things I wasn’t used to feeling. Things Ishouldn’tbe feeling.
“Yes, you were,” she mocked. “I saw it—you can’t deny it.I made Logan laugh, again.” She said the last part in a singsong voice that reminded me of the way she and Lucas would tease one another.
Closing my eyes, I sucked in a hard breath. In all the years Willow and I had known one another, it was only during these last two weeks of living together without Lucas that we’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm together. And I liked it.I really fucking liked it.Was it wrong, I wondered, to enjoy something that had only come about at the expense of my brother? Not wanting to think about the answer, I turned away and resumed sanding the bench. This time twice as hard.
“Alright,” Willow said around a yawn. “I guess I’m gonna go to bed.”
I remained as I was, with my back to Willow, bent over the bench, still furiously sanding. Not until I’d finished one entire shelf and swept the dust into a pile did I finally rise. Turning, I found Willow propped up in bed, a book in hand, fast asleep. One bare leg was slung over her blankets and her T-shirt was pushed up to her waist. I took my time looking at her—the length of her leg, the dip of her waist, the soft upward curve of her mouth—as if she’d fallen asleep smiling.
Silently crossing the room, I slid the book gently from her hand, turning it over. Missing its cover, its pages stained and torn, the title page read: ALICE’S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND. Setting it aside, I pulled the blankets out from beneath her, tucking them at her waist. Staring down at her, I found my hand drawn to her face, to a loose curl hanging over one eye. As I was gently pushing it aside, Willow shifted and I quickly snatched my hand back. With a soft sigh, she rolled onto her side, tugging the blankets up to her chin.
I backed away, my heart hammering in my chest, still attempting to convince myself that what I felt for Willow was only the inevitable result of a long stretch of unrequited lust and loneliness. Those excuses had barely worked while living on the road; here in Silver Lake, they didn’t hold up at all.
With a frustrated growl, I wrenched my shirt over my head, tossing it onto the top bunk where I’d begun keeping all my dirty laundry. Stripping down to my boxers, I switched the lights off and climbed into bed. Glaring at the bunk above me, I knew it was time to own up to my feelings—at least, to myself.
Turning toward Willow, the silhouette of her sleeping form just barely visible in the meager moonlight, I listened to her rhythmic breaths. In and out and in and out, until my own breaths slowed and my eyelids began to droop.
