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But Caden has been getting to be a problem. There have been others we’ve had to evict because they were rabble-rousers or a potential threat to our peace here, and Caden might end up being one of them.
So Jackson might be an asshole, but I’m not really sorry that he shut Caden up.
***
I HAVE MY OWN ROOMin the house. It’s the room that’s been mine since my family moved onto this farm. It’s a pleasant room with worn pink-and-green bedding, maple furniture, and lacy curtains. Jackson took my parents’ room after my dad died, so the two of us are the only ones with our own rooms.
Sometimes I feel a little guilty about all the space that could be shared with others, but Jackson insists. He says the trappings of leadership—even superficial ones—strengthen our authority, and I suspect he might be right.
Besides, I like the privacy. This has always been my room, and I’m not going to give it up unless I have to.
There’s a relief that comes when I close my bedroom door at night. I can let down my guard for a little while.
I light a candle since it’s dark out now and the only other light comes from the moon and stars outside. In the shifting shadows, I manually pump water into my porcelain basin and use it to wash off the dirt and sweat and stink of the day. Then I put on a short pink cotton nightgown with ruffled straps—I thought it was the prettiest thing when I bought it at sixteen—and brush my hair.
It’s long now. I haven’t cut it since Impact. I could. We’ve got scissors, and a couple of the girls here are really good at styling hair. But I haven’t wanted to do it. It’s long and thick and wavy and a reddish-gold color. My eyes are brown, and my mouth is a little too big for my face. I look kind of pretty in the dim light. It almost surprises me.
I look softer than I do during the day in my normal work clothes and ponytail. As soft as I was when I was sixteen and used to read romance novels, daydream about exciting adventures, and cry when Jackson treated me like a spoiled princess.
I don’t think I was ever truly spoiled. My parents taught me to work hard and take care of myself. But they loved me more than anything, and they protected me from everything they could. The world had always been pretty easy on me back then.
I used to be soft, and right now I almost look that way again.
I shrug off the faint pleasure at the realization.
I’m only twenty-one. It should be normal to look pretty. But it doesn’t really matter in my life as it is.
After using the bathroom that connects to my room, I get into bed and stretch out under the sheets. I close my eyes and try to relax.
I usually work so hard during the day that it’s not difficult to fall asleep, but tonight my mind is whirling. It feels like lights are spinning behind my eyelids.
I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling in the dark room. There’s a faint glow coming in the window from the moon and stars. They’re not as vivid as they used to be in my childhood because of lingering ash in the air, but they’re still there.
I mentally review what I’m going to say to Jackson tomorrow about the trip for antibiotics. Then I think about Ham this afternoon. About Caden this evening. I turn over a few times, trying to get more comfortable.
Close my eyes but can’t get my mind to settle.
With a frustrated groan, I get up to pee again. Then I pause, standing between my bed and the door.
It takes about thirty seconds for me to make my decision. I relight my candle, leave the room, and walk silently down the hall in my bare feet, carrying the candle since otherwise it would be pitch-black.
Jackson’s room is at the end of the hall. I hesitate just briefly before I turn his doorknob and push the door open.
It’s dark in his room. He’s already in bed. A board squeaks on my third step, the same board that always squeaks.
I hear his covers rustle. He’s moving now. He knows I’m here. I set the candle down on the table. When I reach the bed, he grabs for me and pulls me onto the mattress, stretching me out as he rolls on top of me.
Without a word, he kisses me, deep and hard and hungry.
His lips move urgently against mine. His tongue pushes into my mouth. His body is heavy. He sleeps completely naked, and his skin is hot and damp as it rubs against mine.
My blood was coursing in my veins even before I reached his bed, and now it’s throbbing at all my pulse points. I grab for the back of his neck, holding on as I open my mouth fully to his and rock up against the hard line of his body. The bedsprings groan slightly as we kiss. That and our labored breathing are the only sounds in the quiet.
It’s dark in the room except for the flickering light from my candle and a faint glow of the moon through the open window, but I can see Jackson’s face when he breaks the kiss without warning and straightens his arms to raise his upper body. I see his rumpled hair. The cleft in his chin. The way his eyes have darkened. The glint of perspiration on his forehead. His legs are straddling one of mine, so our thighs are twined together. He’s not smiling even a little as he stares down at me.
For a moment I think he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead he reaches down to grab fistfuls of my gown and yank it up over my head, tossing it onto the floor with gruff impatience and then staring down at my naked body.
He can’t have a very clear view of it in the low light, but he must be able to see enough. He was already getting aroused from the kiss, and now I can feel his cock hardening all the way against my hip.
