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“I do not think any more shots will be taken,” Pivane says, “but just in case, you should keep your rifle at the ready.”
“That goes without saying.”
“It’s good that I gave it to you,” Pivane says, “for if it’s used in their protection, it will be used well.”
Pivane gets up to go. “I’ll be back to check on them tomorrow with supplies, food, anything they might need. If Chal is successful with the Hopi and it draws the Juvenile Authority off track, they’ll be able to leave the reservation soon and continue their journey.”
Una notices that Lev shifts his shoulders uncomfortably at the suggestion.
“I believe,” says Pivane, giving her once again the all-encompassing full focus of his eyes, “that this is the safest place for them. Do you agree?”
Una holds his gaze. “Maybe you’re right.”
Satisfied, Pivane leaves, the bell on the shop door jingling behind him as he goes out. Una makes sure the door is locked, then escorts her guests upstairs.
Her steak is burning, filling the kitchen with smoke. Cursing, she turns off the burner, turns on the fan, and drops the skillet into the sink, dousing it with water. The steak is about as ruined as her appetite.
“Cajun Blackened Steak, my brother calls that,” says Grace.
The small apartment has two bedrooms. She offers Grace her room, but Grace insists on the sofa. “The less space I have to bump around, the better I sleep,” she says. She lies down and seems to be snoring instantly. Una covers her with a blanket and scares up blankets for the boys. “The spare bedroom has one bed and a bedroll on the floor.”
“I’ll take the bedroll,” says Connor quickly. “Lev can have the bed.”
“No argument,” says Lev.
Una now notices that Connor is wearing one of Wil’s shirts. The fact that he wears it so obliviously makes it all the more infuriating. He should apologize to every thread of the garment. He should apologize to her. But Una won’t tell him this. All she says is, “You don’t quite fill out that shirt, do you?”
Connor offers a smile that is apologetic, but not apologetic enough. “It’s not like I had much of a choice, considering.”
“Yes, considering,” she echoes. She expects him to try to charm her, maybe sidle closer to her, because she assumes this is the kind of boy he is. When he doesn’t, she is almost disappointed. She wonders when it was that she started looking for reasons to dislike people. But she knows the answer to that. It started the day she put Wil’s guitar on the funeral pyre and watched as the guitar burned in his place.
She hands the two their bedding and fetches her rifle, leaning it against the wall near the stairs. “You’ll be safe as long as you’re here.”
“Thank you, Una,” says Lev.
“My pleasure, little brother.”
She catches Conner smirking when she calls Lev that. Una doesn’t care. Let him smirk. Outsiders always do.
35 • Lev
The bedroom has more pictures of Wil than in the Tashi’ne home, all from long before the brief time that Lev knew him. In fact, the room has the uneasy sense of being a shrine.
“Ya think she’s got issues with her lost love?” says Connor blithely.
“Her fiancé,” Lev corrects. “They knew each other all their lives—so try to be a little more sensitive.”
Connor puts up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”
“If you want to win her over, wash that shirt and leave it here when we go.”
“Winning her over isn’t high on my list of priorities.”
Lev shrugs. “Guess you won’t be getting any discounts on guitars.”
r doesn’t say anything, because they both know he’s right—and it ticks Connor off.
“My point is that you’re afraid of going back to being that same screwup you were two years ago—but I don’t see it happening.”
