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“Nothing,” she said tightly. “Everything’s fine.”
“Really?” he asked. “Is it?”
Nix stared ahead as they walked, watching the bees and the dragonflies.
“Look at me,” he said.
She did not.
“Nix . . . what is it?” he asked gently. “Did I do something, or—?”
“No,” she said quickly.
“Then what is it?”
“Does it have to be anything?”
“Pretty much, yeah. For the last couple of weeks you’ve been weird.”
“Weird?” She loaded that word with jagged chunks of ice.
“Not weird weird, but, you know . . . different. You spend all your time talking to Lilah or not talking to anyone. We hardly talk anymore.”
She stopped and wheeled on him. “And you spend all your time moping around like the world just ended.”
Benny gaped at her. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” she insisted.
“Well, okay, maybe I’ve been dealing with some stuff. My brother just died, you know.”
“I know.”
“He was murdered.”
“I know.”
“So maybe I need time to sort through that, ever think about that?”
Nix’s eyes blazed. “Are you going to lecture me about dealing with grief, Benjamin Imura? Your brother died fighting. My mother was beaten to death. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“It makes you feel like crap, how do you think I think it makes you feel?”
“Then what are you harping on—”
“Who’s harping?” he said defensively. “Jeez, Nix, all I did was ask what was wrong. Don’t bite my head off.”
“I’m not biting your head off.”
“Then why are you yelling?”
“I’m not yelling,” she yelled.
Benny took a steadying breath and let it out slowly.
“Nix, I do understand what you’re going through. I’m going through it too.”
“It’s not the same thing,” she said very quietly. An elk poked its head out from behind some sagebrush, studied them for a moment, then bent to eat berries from another bush.
