It was thanks to my mother’s green thumb that I knew what little I did—mainly what was edible and what wasn’t. Looking back, I wished I’d listened more intently to her gardening nonsense—things that had seemed so insignificant at the time but had ultimately ended up saving our lives after everything had gone to hell.
Popping the grape in my mouth, I moved on, heading toward a small shed in the distance. Unlike my traveling companions, I actually had self-control. I could, and would, abstain from gorging myself untilafterour safety was ensured.
I circled the shed before entering—it was a typical garden-sized hut, windowless and with a barn door–style entryway. The doorframe was warped and rotting, the door latch rusted over. Prying off the latch, I used my crowbar to wrest the doors open; wood crumbled, breaking off in sharp, jagged chunks as the doors popped free.
Inside the shed, spiders hurried to climb up their silk strands, vanishing into the shed rafters. Standing in the entranceway, I surveyed the meager contents with dismay—a riding mower, a stack of dust-covered planter boxes, and a bag of topsoil.
Closing the doors, I made my way back to the house, loud laughter and a trail of cake roll wrappers greeting me in the hallway. No matter how many times I reminded Lucas and Willow to keep quiet, they rarely listened.Sloppy, forgetful, idiotic—I ticked off their less desirable traits in my head as I moved quickly down the hall. About to turn into the room, I stopped dead.
With her back to me, Willow stood in front of the open window, pulling her shirt off over her head. Raven black braids swayed across her back as she stretched, her softly curved form a beacon in the blazing sunset. The side of one breast was visible, the tilt of her chin exposing a sleek expanse of neck, while beads of sweat dripped down the concave center, her bronze skin shimmering in the most mesmerizing way.
My dick twitched and hardened, much to my annoyance. It wasn’t as if this were the first time I’d seen her without her clothes on. Hell, at this point, I should be numb to it. Living the way we did, we weren’t afforded the luxury of modesty, and we’d long ago grown accustomed.
“Are you two kidding me?” I said, barging into the room. “What if I was someone else—someone dangerous?” I pointed an accusatory finger at Lucas, who lay on the sofa, his arms propped behind his head. “What if I’d been a Creeper? We haven’t even set up camp and the two of you are already fucking off.”
They’d both jumped when I’d entered—Lucas shot up off the couch while Willow hurried to finish dressing.
“Well?” I demanded when no one spoke.
“Calm down,” Willow muttered. “We were just about to start.”
“Yeah right,” I bit out. “Did one of you at least finish clearing the upstairs?”
When neither of them replied, I turned away, shaking my head. “Set up camp,” I growled over my shoulder. “I’ll be upstairs finishing what you two should be doing.”
As I retreated down the hall, the house was quiet, the only noise from the frantic thrumming of blood through my veins.
My return to the office was met with gloomy expressions and sulking silence; Lucas sat on the couch with his nose buried in a book, while Willow sat on the windowsill, staring off into the fading sunlight. I ignored their silence, satisfied to find they’d actually listened for a change and set up camp while I’d been gone.
Our three threadbare sleeping bags had been arranged in a circle, our makeshift stove and canteens set in the center. Used mostly for boiling rainwater, the stove was nothing more than a large tin can with a small pot that fit over the top of it.
Closing the door behind me, I placed my findings at my feet and began barricading the door before dismantling what was left of my gear—the tool belt I wore at my waist, the blades I kept strapped all over my body, and my steel-toed boots. Stripping off my sweat-soaked socks, I laid them out on the floor to dry.
“Find anything good?” Lucas asked, his tentative tone and anxious expression reminding me so much of our mother when our father had been in one of his moods. As guilt swelled inside me, I gestured at the moth-eaten pillowcase I’d used to carry what I found. “Go ahead and look. Take whatever you want.”
Lucas and Willow glanced at each other, grins spreading across their faces. Like kids on Christmas morning, they raced across the room, both of them diving for the pillowcase, briefly yanking it back and forth before dumping its contents onto the floor.
“Yours.” Lucas tossed a box of tampons in Willow’s direction. Without uttering a word, she set them aside. While Lucas resumed pawing through the goods, I studied Willow, trying to recall the last time she’d alluded to needing supplies. Was she pregnant? I dismissed the panicked thought instantly—she’d shown zero symptoms. So then what? None of us were the picture of health—we were all overworked and undernourished—but if Willow wasn’t getting her period anymore, maybe I’d misjudged just how bad off we really were.
Looking at them long and hard, it suddenly struck me how prominent Willow’s collarbone was and how chiseled Lucas’s cheekbones had become. Another wave of guilt washed over me. These past few months we’d been teetering on starvation, and not a damn thing I did seemed to make a difference.
“There’s toothpaste!” Willow jumped to her feet, clutching the several unopened tubes of toothpaste I’d pillaged from one of the upstairs bathrooms. “No more chewing mint leaves.” She danced in clumsy circles around the room before bowing down in front of Lucas, holding out a tube in offering.
“For your awful, stinking breath,good sir,” she said, attempting a British accent.
“Why yes, I do have awful, stinking breath.” Lucas attempted the same accent. “It’s almost as wretched as yours,madam.”
Laughing, Willow continued dancing around the room, coming to a twirling stop in front of me. Again, she dropped down into a dramatic bow, holding out another tube of toothpaste. The deep bow caused her too-big T-shirt to sag open, the stretched-out material offering up a bird’s-eye view of her breasts. Perfect breasts. High, tight mounds of soft flesh topped with dark nipples. Staring, my mouth went bone dry.
“Hello? Earth to Logan. Would you like some toothpaste?”
With a growl, I snatched the tube from her and slumped back against the wall. Oblivious to my mood, Willow resumed dancing.
“Hey,” Lucas said, inching closer to me, holding a box of protein bars. “I found these in the garage—they’re your favorite flavor.”
Taking two, I pushed the box back at Lucas. “You need those more than I do.”
“Ha!” Willow exclaimed from across the room. “A protein bar is not going to help him with those puny little things he calls arms.”
