Page 58

Eden

If you have to drink the Grinch’s spunk to survive,

then just drink the freaking spunk!

“Is Ava in...” Aniyah stops short. “Oh, Eden. It’s you.”

I drop my pen over my notepad, fighting another yawn.

Jayk isn’t much for sleep.

“Aniyah!” Sweeping up a mug, I try not to look like I’m chasing her down as I move around the breakfast bar. “You must be hungry! Would you like some slop? It’s a new recipe.”

But Aniyah’s already backing out of the kitchen as fast as she entered it, a nervous hand clutching the pale blue hijab at her throat. “Oh, no. I’m full.”

“ Full ? Then why were you coming to the kitch?—”

“Busy,” she cuts me off, nodding. Her hand scrambles for the door handle behind her. “I’m so busy. With surveillance. Cameras. And I’m looking for Ava, too, so I should really...”

Flabbergasted, I stare at her. “But we turned off the cameras.”

“Right. Sure. That’s...” Her gaze drops to my mug just as the handle turns, and the door opens behind her.

Relief crashes over her face as she flees.

“Sorry, Eden! Do a girl a favor and stay away from Dom for a bit, okay? I have two bread rolls on him winning zero face time this week. Okay, thanks! See you, bye!”

The door swings shut, and I sigh, slumping into a chair by the breakfast bar.

In the corner of the room, on the floor, Kasey is working on something with wires that sparks far too often for comfort, but that Jayk told me “not to get my panties in a wad” about.

That was right before he forced me to eat, stuck me with today’s friend-slash-humiliatingly-transparent watchdog, and ran off with more anxious mutters about checking on the farm animals.

Jayk has been stressed.

And stressed Jayk isa lot.

I suppose Kasey’s better off here than thieving from the Reapers again, at least. She’s had everyone anxiously fretting over that—to the point that the guys have been trading off watches of the side tunnel to try and keep her in here.

Through the window, Jennifer is still on the bridge, talking with Sawyer. They’re a good foot closer than they were the other day.

At least someone is getting romanced.

The mug in my hand tilts, and I stare at the green liquid glumly.

This is the third variation of my slop in the three days since the raid, and I’m still struggling to get anyone to drink more than a mouthful of it—which is becoming pathetic since, slowed by raid-rations or not, they’re quite literally starving.

All the urgency seems to have gone out of them to stretch those rations properly.

And that bothers me more than I care to examine.

“Why is it gooey ?”

I scowl at Lucky over my shoulder as he eyes my mug, and I hug it to me, like it might hear the aspersions. “It’s not! I mean, it’s slightly viscous because of the aloe gel—I couldn’t reduce it any more than that—but it’s perfectly drinkable. The moss helped give it some texture.”

“Oh, I bet.” He nods solemnly. “I finished my pile of rocks for breakfast, and I was wondering what was for lunch.” I open my mouth to protest when his dimple turns into a grin. “Have you actually tried your devil brew? Not to be dramatic, but I think I’d rather walk through Bentley’s snake pit.”

Miffed, I roll my eyes. “ I’ve had two cups. I’ve eaten more of it than anyone the last few days.”

Partially in an attempt to prove to everyone that my concoctions are edible. Partially because Jaykob and Lucky keep force-feeding me at every opportunity.

Jaykob and Lucky—because while we watch the Reapers and wait for Red Zone to arrive, my brutes have been going head-to-head. They might be supporting Jayk with anything he needs for Bristlebrook, but when it comes to me, it’s been non-stop. No matter how Jasper cautions them all to find restraint.

Between their tasks, Dom and Beau have been laying distractions for Jayk. Overwhelming him as he leaves his room. Lying in wait around corners and dragging him away—and with far more child-like delight than the whole frustrating endeavor really calls for.

And if the two of them weren’t so enormously outnumbered by the civilians—who seem to have their own strange, personal stakes in who gets time with me—I’m sure their plots would have worked.

As it stands, all their efforts still haven’t bought them more than a few minutes with me.

Lucky has had a better run.

It isn’t that he’s been allowed special privileges exactly, but Lucky is creative. He’s been bargaining and bribing and weaseling his way through the spies since the first day. It’s only got him so far, but at least we’ve been able to talk and, for now, that’s enough.

Jasper alone I haven’t talked to at all, unless Jayk was also present, and he’s been... very polite. So polite, it seems to be giving him a stomach ache.

I’ve been trying not to take it personally that he hasn’t pressed for anything more.

While the men seem to be finding their private battles entertaining, I’ve found it more frustrating. I’m not sure how I’m ever supposed to work through anything with the others if we can’t get within three feet of one another for more than five minutes.

Jayk and I have been having our own nightly disagreements about his behavior.

Unfortunately for me, I have no self-restraint and it usually ends with me stripping off his clothes and working out my frustration in other ways.

Lucky laughs at me, then wanders over to my pot on the stove. He begins to chatter about his day, examining the slop like it’s a science experiment and not the result of two hours of cooking.

Kasey gives him a quick look, then—satisfied at his distance—goes back to work.

He’s been especially sweet and attentive since the raid, sneaking me contraband cheese in uniquely creative ways.

Wedged into a remarkably sturdy paper airplane he flew over Jaykob’s head.

Magically tucked into my pocket with some impressive sleight of hand.

Somehow, inside my locked bedroom, horrifically squashed underneath the paperback on my bedside table.

We had words about that one.

“... Twelve , Eden! Twelve books. Do you know how long it took me to find twelve books in his stupid library? And then I had to find the passages he wanted. Skim through and Post-it them and—I feel like I need to repeat, it was twelve books.”

I perk up. “Textbooks? What kind? Psychology, I’m assuming, but which...” Lucky straightens, staring at me with imploring, outraged eyes, and I stop, changing direction. “Sounds really boring, yeah. Must be horrible.” I clear my throat. “Books. Research. Awful.”

His dimple springs back to life, and he rolls his eyes. “It might be for a good cause, but at some point, he really should think of my mental health. I should be outside. Teaching people how to fight and stuff.”

I lean over the counter, raising my brows. “ Or you could conserve your energy and be a good person, all at the same time. Especially since you won’t have any slop.”

Lucky looks back into the pot, then picks up the ladle. Or he tries to.

It sticks a little.

“Have you made any progress with Dom and Beau?” he asks, shaking the spoon to try and free it.

I sigh, my mood dimming. “Jo let Beau smile at me from the other side of the porch yesterday morning. Does that count?”

The slop peels away from the ladle with a sticky squelch, then plops back into the pot. Lucky grimaces, and I rest my chin in my hand.

“Then no, nothing.”

Kasey’s equipment sizzles behind me, but I ignore her, too caught up in my own self-pity. “Oh, I just don’t even know what I’d do if I did have them in front of me. They say we don’t trust each other. What am I even supposed to do about that? Trusting people isn’t exactly my strength.”

Lucky gives me a commiserating look, then turns the burner on under the pot. I’m not sure why. It doesn’t change the consistency much.

He nods, adjusting the heat. “I don’t know.

Why not just do the usual things? Keep your promises.

Set expectations and then meet them. Talk about your feelings, even the annoying secret ones you don’t really want to.

Be consistent. You know, all that good stuff.

It’s not rocket science.” The pot starts to smoke, and he squints into it.

“Though maybe you’re good with that. I feel like you had to do some advanced chem here to make food turn this color. ”

I frown, thinking about that. It makes sense, and it’s not dissimilar to what I’ve already thought of, but when he puts it like that ...

“Maybe I could make it a kind of habit? Show up every day to spend time with them?” I muse.

Though I don’t know how I’ll manage that, when I can’t even get close to them.

I’m going to have to get creative, too.

“Oh, sure, well rituals are a thing. Not my thing, but you know.” He winks, looking up from the pot. “You’re a better sub than me.”

“I very clearly am not,” I tell him tartly.

I can barely get it through Jayk’s head that I’m not leaving him for anyone else.

Lucky, on the other hand, is here, romancing me, still proudly decorated in all the devilish marks Jasper has left on his shoulders and back.

There’s one pink, shiny mark peeking from his chest over the low collar of his tank. It looks suspiciously like a brand.

“A more obedient sub, then.” He laughs.

The pot makes a loud cracking sound, and Lucky flinches, flicking the heat off and moving the pot to another burner.

He gives it a dark look before he considers me, nodding slowly.

“But you could set something up like that. A ritual. You could base it around whatever you guys are struggling with. If it’s trust and honesty, I don’t know, maybe you tell them something every day.

Something about how you’re feeling or what you’re thinking?

Something you’re comfortable sharing, until you know you’ll be heard? ”

Ritual.

The word settles in me. It’s a word of stained glass and reverence. Careful repetition and promises old as parchment.

A ritual appeals to me endlessly.