Page 38 of Claimed By Ruin

When I came back to the room, he was on his side, his back to me.

A victory, one I would try to hold close to stave away the coldness that enveloped me when I lay down next to him.

I was right.

My pillows were warm.

When I woke up, he was gone.

ELEVEN

Asia

“Where are you headed?” Lourdes asked the next morning when I stood up from the kitchen table.

“You know,” I said, smiling at her.

Her lips lifted. “To walk the fences.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be quick and give you a break from Uncle Levi,” I said.

“A break? He’s halfway through that graphic novel he’s been reading me, and I can’t wait to see what happens.”

I squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Lourdes.”

She squeezed back. “We’re a family. That’s what we do for each other.”

That was Lourdes’s way.

I didn’t have to worry about her poisoning Uncle Levi.

Didn’t have to worry about her leaving.

I turned away quickly and skipped down the porch steps, breathing in the cool air that smelled like dirt.

But I didn’t let myself linger.

Couldn’t.

Instead, I nodded at Miles and Elliot. Diane was up again today, and while she wouldn’t meet my gaze, just her being outside was something. Her daughters flanked her, their curiosity and energy indicting me with every step.

Their gazes burned as I strode across the yard and into the farmland, my back straight, my eyes taking in everything.

Uncle Levi would be disgusted with the way I kept things up, or better yet, the way I failed to.

We tried to keep the grass trimmed back, but there was only so much we could do, and only so much fuel and manpower to do it.

So I made the call, told everyone we needed to keep the grass low enough that nothing could sneak up on us, but had reprioritized some of those resources to shoring up defenses and making sure we put our energy into growing food.

Still, my heart ached as I looked at the sad state of Aunt Kathleen’s flower bed, the pasture that her horses grazed on.

The flowers were long gone. I’d ripped them out myself.

The horses were gone too, all except one.

Every day we fought for this place, but in this harsh morning, the farm looked as dead as the world.

“Get over your fucking self,” I muttered.