Page 71 of Claimed By Ruin

These people—the ones still left—this farm needed me.

And Jack was fine.

I was fine.

Everything was fine.

I scooped the oatmeal into my mouth. Didn’t grimace, didn’t even gag, just swallowed it down, the lumpy, gummy mass passing from my tongue down my throat, down my esophagus, into my stomach. I didn’t taste it, didn’t smell it. It didn’t matter. The baby needed the nutrients, and now that I⁠—

I dropped my spoon, the clatter against the bowl threatening to shatter something inside of me.

I looked at Lourdes. She smiled. “Remember that time Caitlin made the oatmeal?”

I tried to smile back, knowing that all that was on my face was a pained grimace. Still, I spoke. “First, last, and only time. How could I forget? I think we lost three days’ worth.”

Miles chuckled. “Yeah, but me and Elliot used that stuff to seal up some cracks in the chicken coop.”

“I can hear her now. ‘See, at least it didn’t go to waste.’” I mimicked her, and Lourdes and Miles laughed.

Real laughs. Short-lived, but they were there.

I pushed out of my chair, the feet scraping against the floor. “I’m going to mop in here, and then we start the rounds, okay?” I said.

Miles looked at Lourdes, seeming to consider, but then nodded. “Yeah.”

It didn’t go according to plan.

Midmorning, my heart lurched at the sound of an approaching vehicle. Dropped just as fast when I realized Jack would never show up like that.

Which meant Christopher.

I was in the back yard. I pulled off my work gloves and walked through the kitchen and living room towards the front door.

“Wait here,” Miles said, his brow furrowed.

“Miles, what are you…?”

“Please, Miss Newman, just wait here.” His eyes were pleading.

And I was weak, so fucking weak. Leaning on a child, letting someone else handle my responsibilities…it went against everything I believed, who I was.

My feet stayed rooted to the spot as Miles walked onto the porch and watched as the truck rolled to a stop, the front bumper almost flush with the porch stairs.

I heard doors slam.

Christopher had backup.

“Miss Newman is asleep,” Miles said.

“She doesn’t need to be awake. We’ll just take a few things and be on our way,” Christopher said.

My feet remembered how to move when I heard a shotgun rack.

“We don’t have anything to spare. We need those things,” Miles said.

“Miles…” My voice was low, urgent.

He didn’t look at me.