Page 145
“Good,” Earl says. “Then you can learn how maps work too.”
Luis laughs, and Carlos glares at him. Wesker drops the tennis ball at Carlos’s feet like he’s taking sides.
Poppy tugs Clair toward the fire, already talking with both hands and half her body like whatever happened during her sleepover with Joanie requires a full reenactment. Clair lets herself be pulled along, cheeks still pink, hair still a mess no amount of finger combing managed to fix.
It’s a sight I want to wake up to every day.
Boots crunch over gravel behind me, and Trish steps up beside me, mug in hand, curls sticking up messily, expression far too pleased with herself for this early in the morning.
“Night watch update,” she says, as if she didn’t spend the morning harassing me over the radio while I was with Clair. “North trap line held. Earl reset two snares. Edith found a new way to threaten a raccoon. No infected near the tree line since about three, but we should still move later today to avoid detection.”
I nod and sign, “Thank you.”
Trish cocks her head at me. “Look at that. Polite. Glowing. Slightly less grumpy than usual.”
I narrow my eyes.
She smiles into her mug. “It’s nice.”
I lift a brow.
“Seeing you smile,” she says, softer now. “Even if you’re trying very hard to pretend you’re not.”
Damn it.
I turn away before my face does something embarrassing. The morning is already full of enough of that.
Trish bumps my shoulder with hers. “Relax. I’m happy for you.”
A small smile breaks before I can stop it. I sign, “Am I to thank you for helping Clair learn some ASL?”
Trish’s mouth curves slowly. “I may have taught her a few things.”
I stare at her.
She takes a sip from her mug, completely unbothered. “Useful phrases. Emergency communication. The basics.”
I keep staring.
Her eyes sparkle over the rim. “Maybe a few fun extras.”
I sign, “Define fun.”
Trish looks past me toward Clair, then back at me. “I’ll let Clair surprise you.”
Before I can demand more information, Edith’s voice cuts through the clearing.
“Good morning, Leon.”
Edith limps toward us with her casted leg stiff in front of her, one hand braced on Earl’s old walking stick, the other wrapped around a tin cup. Her smile is sweet.
Too sweet.
She pats my arm, pleasant, bony, and far more dangerous than any infected. “Leon, sweetheart, like I told Jacob, the next time you want to have some adult time, please make sure you do it far away from the traps Earl and I were checking last night.”
My brain stops.
Trish chokes on her tea. Actually chokes. She bends forward, coughing and laughing into her hand while I stand there, frozen in the middle of camp, every drop of blood in my body rushing straight to my face.
