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“That’s for sure.” He shrugs and smiles when he sees Tara, his girlfriend, approaching. “But it seems like our hearts adapt to circumstances and we end up falling for the people around us, whoever they are.”
It’s a surprisingly insightful comment, but I don’t have a chance to respond because he’s saying goodbye and walking over to meet Tara. Just as well. I’ve got too much to think about right now, and none of it involves Ben.
Someone put the word out that I wasn’t to be hit on or pursued. Maybe it was my father, trying to protect me, but it doesn’t really seem like him. He never tried to stop me from dating. After my mom died, he always told me, as awkward as it was, that I could talk to him about sex or boys or relationships. This underhanded strategy doesn’t feel like something he would do.
Plus it clearly continued a year after he died.
Which leaves who?
There’s only one viable option. It has to be Dave and the rest of the leadership in the bunker. No one else would have the authority to enforce that kind of prohibition.
In general, they let residents do whatever they want with their personal lives as long as no one gets hurt, it doesn’t use up resources, and it doesn’t take advantage of anyone underage. But I’m twenty now. An adult by any standard. And yet somehow I’ve been made off-limits.
The anger grows as I process this new knowledge. It intensifies even more until I’m sure it’s going to burst right out of me.
I’m only half-aware as Mindy Green arrives to take my place at the coffee bar. My shift is over, which is just as well. I’m not sure I could focus on pouring coffee at the moment. I manage to entertain a brief, distracted conversation with Mindy before I’m allowed to leave.
It feels like fate.
The first person I see is Grant, striding away from the kitchen with his lunch pack. Our paths cross in the hallway.
His eyes move toward me in automatic assessment, but I see his face change as he processes my appearance. “What’s wrong?” he asks in a gravelly voice, jerking to a stop.
I almost choke. This kind of anger is so unfamiliar to me lately that I hardly remember what I’m supposed to do with it. “How dare you?” I manage to spit out.
“What?” He’s clearly baffled by my attack. Always practical, he glances up and down the hall. It’s filling up with more people, coming and going to the kitchen for lunch. He wraps his fingers around my upper arm and gently pulls me into the empty library, which is the closest door to where we’re standing. He closes the door behind us. “What’s the matter?” His vivid blue eyes search my face urgently, his body tensing as if preparing for a crisis.
“What’s the matter? What’s the matter?” I have to clear my throat since emotion is filling it. “How dare you and Dave and everyone else do this to me?” I want to lash out physically. Shake him. Pound on his chest. Something visceral to express my fury. I don’t, of course. I’m not a violent person. “I’m not a child, and I’m not a princess in a tower. You can’t treat me like one.”
I see the recognition dawn on Grant’s face. It washes over the urgency, replacing it with something like caution. “What happened?” he asks in an almost gentle tone.
The gentleness feels like a slap in the face. “What happened is I found out that Dave put out the word that no one was supposed to get close to me. How could he do that? How could you let him?”
Grant has no authority over Dave. He appears to be in his confidence, but he’s definitely not in charge. I’m not sure why I assume Grant could have done something to stop this, but it feels like a betrayal nonetheless.
Grant takes a slow breath. I can see his shoulders rise and fall. “Dave didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, he did. No one else could have made this happen. I know it was Dave, and it was absolutely heartless.”
“He didn’t. I did.” His jaw is tight. His stance is tense. It looks like he’s bracing himself for an attack.
And no wonder. I stare at him, panting and nearly blinded by the fiery emotions clouding my vision. I finally manage to rasp, “W-what?”
“I did it. It was my idea. Not Dave’s.”
It’s not what I could have expected, and so my feelings are slow to catch up. “But… but… why… how could you…?”
Damn it, tears are filling my eyes. They always do when I get too angry.
I’ve never been close to Grant. We aren’t even friendly. I’m not sure why my instinct is always to believe he’s on my side.
“I’m sorry if it hurt you, but I’m not sorry for doing it. We’re responsible for protecting you, and this was the best way I could think of to do it.”
“I don’t need protecting like that!” For the first time, my voice rises. “Why me and no one else?”
“Because you’re entirely alone now.” He sounds like he might be getting angry too—but not a wild, fiery feeling like me. His voice is low and gritty and indignant. “You don’t have your father anymore. You don’t have any other family. You don’t have a partner. You’re young and beautiful and vulnerable and alone. I can’t guard you twenty-four hours a day to make sure you stay safe.”
I’m very briefly distracted by the way he called me beautiful, but it’s not enough to divert my outrage. “I don’t need to be guarded. I’m an adult, and we’re not living in caveman times.”
