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“Good riddance,” Ash says.
“Yeah, for now,” Bishop says.
Caleb catches his eye again. It’s like the two of them are already working out some kind of unspoken guy language. “Exactly. I doubt he’s gone for good. He doesn’t seem like the type who can survive the winter out here alone.”
“Then we’ll have to keep an eye out for him,” Ash says.
Caleb stands with a grunt, points at Bishop. “For now, you need to rest. Get healed up. We’re moving camp soon.” Caleb pauses. “Let me ask you something. Were things all right in Westfall when you left?”
Bishop’s eyebrows go up. “Why do you ask?”
“No real reason,” Caleb says. “I’ve just noticed signs in the woods, tracks, more people coming this way. Trying to figure out why and where they’re from.”
“Everything was fine when I left.” Bishop pauses. “Well, maybe not fine. People were a little more on edge than usual, ever since Ivy was put out, but no real unrest.” Bishop’s eyes find mine. Worry, tempered with the knowledge that whatever happens in Westfall is beyond our control, flows between us.
“Okay,” Caleb says, pushing open the tent flap. “Just thought I’d check.”
Ash scoots around me. “I can handle the washing today, Ivy,” she says, voice clipped. “There are plenty of other people to help.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll come,” I tell her.
After Caleb and Ash are gone, I busy myself tying my hair up in a ponytail, my back to Bishop.
“Are you ever going to talk to me?”
I turn. “We’re talking. We’ve been talking.”
Bishop sighs. “What about looking at me? Can you bring yourself to do that, at least?”
The truth is, I barely can. I glance at him, but keep my gaze unfocused, my heart beating triple time in my chest. “What?” I ask, wishing he would stop staring at me.
He doesn’t answer, just continues to watch me. My blood buzzes; my whole body tingles. I want to peel out of my own skin to escape. “I didn’t need you to come save me,” I tell him. I don’t even know what I’m saying, or why I’m saying it, words hurling out of my mouth like weapons. “I was doing fine on my own.” Which is so far from the truth. Apparently lying still comes as easily to me as breathing.
His head jerks back just a little. “I know that,” he says. “I’m not here to save you. That’s not why I came.”
“Then why are you here? What do you want from me?” And oh, I’m being so unfair. Maybe I hope I’ll push him to anger, if only so I don’t have to face some even more dangerous emotion.
“What do I want from you?” Bishop asks, like I’ve lost my mind.
“Yes. What do you want?” I realize this is a question I’ve needed an answer to from the time we met. The suspicious part of me, birthed and nurtured by my father, still can’t truly believe Bishop doesn’t have some type of ulterior motive, even after all the times he’s proved otherwise. Nobody ever wants me solely for me.
Bishop’s jaw tightens, but he only sounds incredibly tired when he says, “I just want to be with you. Walk next to you, Ivy, wherever you’re headed. That’s all.”
My stomach drops. My heart twists into a tiny ball. “I have to go. Ash is waiting.” I leave him there, alone in the tent, running as far and fast as my fear can take me.
Ash and I don’t talk much as we work, other than the basics: Can you pass the soap? I’ll rinse that one. We’re almost done. When we’ve finished hanging the last of the clothes, I sink down on the riverbank, cross my arms over my upturned knees, and rest my chin on my forearms. At some point, the sound and smell of the river have become soothing to me. I understand now why Bishop spent so much time here. Bishop. Who, by now, probably wishes he’d never bothered coming after me. Just more time wasted on a girl who will never deserve him.
Ash lowers herself next to me. “So,” she says, “that’s Bishop.”
“That’s Bishop.” I turn my head so I can see her, my cheek resting on my folded arms. “Do you hate him?”
Ash’s eyes open wide, like I’ve slapped her. “Why would I?”
“Because he’s a Lattimer. And his family put your mother out.”
“He wasn’t even born then, Ivy,” Ash says. “And you obviously care about him, so he must be a good guy.”
A sobbing little laugh escapes me. “Mark said no one here would forgive me for caring about a Lattimer.”
