AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Out in the real world, I have value. Here, in the middle of nowhere, I’m good for nothing. While the others can go out and forage, I’m stuck in the cabin. I hope we won’t be here long enough for me to need to learn the surrounding forest. Plus, nature is unpredictable. I’m not suggesting that trees uproot themselves, but they do fall down, and wind and rain help to move and erode the forest floor. I don’t want to repeat the hike through the forest to get here, especially not on a daily basis. It’s one thing I always try to control—my surroundings, even when we were staying in different places. Here, that’s nearly impossible.
Getting injured also concerns me. I could offer to help chop wood, but even I’m not proud enough to pretend like it’s not a hell of a lot safer for either Cade or Reed to do it. One badly aimed swing could take off a foot or hand, and it’s not like we can race off to the nearest ER.
They don’t need me.
What about Laney, though? She’s a clean slate.
There are more ways to become a family than being related from birth.
We settle back into silence again, sitting side by side, just listening to the forest.
“Do you remember Reed?” I ask, curious. “From when you were a kid, I mean.”
“I think so. I was really little when he was with my mom, but he’s the only person I remember sticking around for any time. I remember him being huge and being frightened of him.”
“Oh.” I frown. “Why were you frightened of him?”
“He was big and loud, and he and my mom always fought.”
“He would have still been drinking back then,” I say.
“Yes, I suppose so. No one sober would have been able to handle being around my mom for any length of time.”
The sadness inside her echoes from her soul.
“You were,” I point out. “You were around her your whole life.”
“Up until two days ago.” Her voice thickens, and she sniffs. “Do you think we’ll be found?”
“I hope we will.”
“Me, too.”
I find myself reaching for her again. This time, my fingers find hers and I squeeze them, trying to both take and offer comfort. The tension in her muscles and joints radiates through mine for a moment, but then she relaxes and even squeezes my hand in return.
“Is there anyone you’ll miss from back home?” I ask.
Her shoulder brushes mine as it rises and falls. “Not really. Some work colleagues, I guess.”
“School friends?”
“I didn’t really have any.”
“No? How come?”
“I was always too busy trying to keep our household running, making sure I could eat. I was always the weird kid, the one noone ever invited home, or even had birthday parties. I guess I was a bit of an outcast.”
I picture the map I’d traced of her face, the full lips, the slightly pointed chin, the small, upturned nose. Her long lashes had brushed my fingertips when she’d blinked.
“What color are your eyes?”
“Blue,” she says. “Pale blue. In some lights they look almost gray.”
“They sound beautiful.”
She doesn’t reply, and I can tell I’ve embarrassed her again. I imagine she’s not used to getting compliments.
I lift my other hand and touch her hair. I twine a chunk of the strands around my fingers, and revel in its silkiness. It takes every bit of self-control not to lean in and lift her hair to my nose to inhale the scent. “What color is your hair?”
