Lucas pushed up his shirtsleeve and flexed, making a big show of giving his slight bicep a kiss. “You love my puny arms, Wilma.”
“That’s what you think, Luke… warm.”
“Lukewarm? That’s the best you could come up with—Lukewarm?”
While Lucas and Willow howled with laughter and made faces at one another, I was once again left feeling like the odd man out. Leaning my head back against the wall, I closed my eyes, grateful there was nothing left to do—
My eyes flew open.
“Did you guys set up the buckets?” Using plastic buckets that attached easily to our packs, we collected rainwater that we’d later filter and use for drinking.
“It’s his turn.” Willow jabbed a finger at Lucas.
“It’s not!” Lucas protested. “I did it last night.”
“Idid it last night,” I growled. “One of you can do it tonight—and the other can go pick the grapes I found out back.”
Willow’s brown eyes went saucer wide. “I call grapes!” she shouted, scrambling toward the window. Tossing one leg over the windowsill, she launched herself outside. There was an audible thud as she landed on the ground below.
“I’m okay!” she shouted back.
Lucas snorted. “Remember how Mom always said Willow was like a bull in a china shop?”
“Yeah, well, Mom had a bad habit of making excuses for people,” I muttered.
Lucas glanced over at me, surprised. “That’s not the same thing. You can’t compare Willow and—”
“I know,” I snapped. “I’m not. I’m just—” I stopped speaking and blew out a breath. “I’m just tired.”
Lucas stared at me, his brow creasing, again reminding me of Mom and the concerned look she always wore whenever Dad was around. And I just couldn’t deal with it right now—the anger that was always welling inside me and the guilt that never seemed to abate. Needing a distraction, I forced my weary body to move; there was a gun safe somewhere in this house and I aimed to find it before darkness fell.
