My eyes are—once again—drawn to the man in question. He’s like a magnet for my attention. I’m hyperaware of his presence at all times, so much so that it’s starting to grate on my nerves. I’ve never been so captivated by a person before. It feels like I’ve been living in black and white, everything around me dull and lifeless except for Maverick. He stands out, the only thing in color.
I reluctantly pull my eyes away from his handsome features, kicking myself for even taking notice of his beauty.You’reamarried woman,Delilah, I remind myself. I’ve never so much as looked at another man besides Gabriel before this, so why is Maverick so hard to ignore?
Luckily, Liv and Charlie join Bec and me on the deck, offering a much-needed distraction from my thoughts. Charlie teaches me some more signs, and the next forty minutes pass quickly.
It isn’t until the entire camp is unpacking that I realize I don’t have anything of my own to unpack. I help where I can, all the while wondering where I’ll be sleeping, or if I can acquire a new toothbrush, and I’m really starting to miss my Jacuzzi bathtub right about now. It’s been far too long since I’ve bathed properly.
Once everything is unpacked from the ferry, everyone trudges through the woods to find a place to set up camp. It’s apparent by their efficiency that most of these people have done this many times, and I’m amazed by how quickly the new camp is built. There are a few things that take more hands, like the dining tent, the Hub, and V’s medical tent, but even those are done by the time the sun starts to set. It’s wildly impressive.
Bec catches me wiping my sweat-slicked brow with my bicep, and she gives me a cheeky grin and a wink. “You’re really earning your place around here, city girl.”
I shrug. “Just trying to be helpful.”
Bec ducks inside her tent before coming back out with a towel and a bar of soap. “Let’s go find a place to wash up.”
“Is this your way of telling me I smell?” I ask, and she laughs.
“Moving day’s hard work. You’ll feel better, trust me.”
I hesitate. “I don’t have a towel. Or soap. Or clothes to change into.”
“We’ll get some stuff at the Hub.” She jerks her head for me to follow.
“But,” I argue. She waits patiently—sort of—for me to continue. “I can’t pay for it. I don’t even have anything to trade.”
Bec shrugs. “We all start with nothing when we come here. No one will think twice about it.”
“Sam might,” I mumble, which makes Bec laugh again.
“Ah,” Bec says. “Don’t worry about Sam. She’s a tough one to win over.”
I follow her to the Hub where we find another set of clothes for me, some bar soap, shampoo, and a towel that’s clearly seen better days.“Where does all this stuff come from?” I ask.
“Most of it is from Mav’s dad, Joe. He collects donations or buys supplies secondhand, then brings it all down across the border every few months,” she explains.
“Wow,” I say. “That’s really generous.”
“He would live here with us if Mav let him. But he’s getting older, and roughing it out here in the woods would be hard on his aging body. Plus, it’s nice to have someone on the outside who can keep us informed on the Brotherhood’s movements.” Bec freezes then gives me a funny look, and I realize she probably feels like she said too much.
“I would never expose Arcadia.” The words leave my mouth before I’ve even really had time to think, and I’m surprised to find that they’re completely true. I wouldn’t tell the Brotherhood about the Resistance, not voluntarily anyway.
She gives me a pitying look. “Everyone can break, city girl.”
I shiver at her insinuation.They wouldn’t torture me for information…would they?
Bec sighs, but doesn’t push the subject. “Let’s go, Mrs. Sinclair.”
She doesn’t say it any particular way, but something about that name soundsoffnow. “You can call me Della,” I say. “If you want.”
“Oh yeah?” she asks, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.
I shrug, but my heart is pounding. I convince myself I’m notactuallybreaking the rules since it’s just a nickname. “Yeah. My friends used to call me that.”
“Aww,” Bec teases. “Does that mean we’re friends?”
I roll my eyes. “Unless you want to keep calling me Mrs. Sinclair.”
She scoffs. “Hell no!”
