Page 25

I avoid Deck for the rest of the day. It’s not as hard as it could have been because Logan is agreeable when I ask to practice driving one of the ATVs for the afternoon.

Every time I even glance in Deck’s direction, he’s frowning at me bleakly. He appears frustrated but not angry now. More sad than anything else. And there’s also a confusion underlying his expression that completely breaks my heart.

He has no idea what happened between us earlier.

Neither do I, if you want to know the truth.

I only know that he cornered me emotionally. With the way he was pushing, the only thing I had left to say was the truth I finally admitted to myself last night. That I love him, and I want him to love me too.

More than he loves Logan. More than he loves being part of this group.

It’s unfair. Irrational. Someone who truly cares for someone else shouldn’t force them into choosing between the things that they love. It’s wrong in every way, and I don’t like the part of myself that wants it.

I don’t even know why I do.

I’ve made it this far in a terrible world by making do, by not hoping for too much, by taking whatever is offered without expecting to get even more.

It makes no sense that now—for no good reason—I’m suddenly dreaming of more. Dreaming of everything .

I know better than that. It only leads to unhappiness. Disappointment. Loss.

Maybe it already has.

I don’t sit next to Deck at dinner or as we’re all hanging out in the evening. And I spread my sleeping bag next to Burgundy, expecting Deck to respect my need for space and sleep somewhere else.

He doesn’t. Subdued and brooding, he lies down near me. Not as close as normal but not very far away.

So I have to feel his presence as I try to sleep, hating myself for messing up the very best thing in my life.

I wake up early the next morning. Before dawn. I blink in the dark, my vision gradually adjusting. Burgundy is on one side, still asleep.

When I roll over, I’m looking right at Deck, who is lying a few feet away. He’s awake too. We stare at each other.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper .

He nods. You okay?

“Yes. I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

Talk to me now?

Once again, I’m bombarded by waves of fear, but I control it enough to keep my soft murmur gentle. “I told you. I don’t have anything else to say to you. I’ve told you everything. Why won’t you believe me?”

His tender expression tightens into frustration. Not talking truth.

“Yes, I am. And you really need to stop all this. It’s getting old.” I get up, my hope that we can put all this behind us and get back to normal totally dashed.

So we’re still in whatever weird fight we’ve fallen into as we get dressed and ready for the day.

I can’t ask to ride the ATV again this morning, so I reluctantly climb into the back of my normal pickup with Micah, Burgundy, and Deck.

Deck gives me a sad, sober look.

“Shit, would y’all just kiss and make up?” Micah mutters. “All this tension is getting under my skin.”

“There’s nothing to make up,” I say, trying to sound normal but ending up way too cool.

Micah snorts, and Burgundy shakes her head at me. “You guys are normally so close. What even happened?”

“Nothing! Can we please stop talking about it?”

Burgundy turns toward Deck for the answer I won’t give her, but he just shakes his head and gestures toward me.

Either saying it’s my fault or it’s mine to say.

Probably the latter.

He’s never been the kind to blame someone else.

So the mood in our truck is a downer all morning.

After stopping for our midday break by a river, I’m so upset and rattled that I can’t stand the thought of climbing back in with the others, so I spontaneously generate a passable excuse about having pulled a muscle so I can ask Logan if I can ride somewhere else in the afternoon.

If he doesn’t believe me, he makes no sign of it. He says I can get in the supply Jeep with Trisha.

That would never be my first choice, but right now any sort of escape from the way Deck is making me feel is a gift. As everyone is climbing into their assigned vehicles, I walk back to the Jeep at the end of the line and open the back hatch.

No Trisha.

Everyone else is nearly ready to head out—in their vehicles or right beside them.

Laid-back, greasy Carl is sitting behind the steering wheel of the supply Jeep, and he looks over his shoulder to where I’m standing in the back.

“Said she had a bathroom emergency. Headed that way.” He nods sideways toward where the river cuts into some tangled woods.

“Maybe you can go round her up. We’re ’bout to leave, and I hate havin’ to rush to catch up to the others. ”

“I’ll go get her,” I tell him .

Logan’s Jeep has started to drive, followed closely by the ATVs. The pickup truck where I usually ride starts off, spinning some gravel beneath its wheels, and I accelerate to a jog.

Hopefully Trisha isn’t sick. Dealing with diarrhea on the road with no working toilet is a nightmare.

I slow down when I reach the trees. I couldn’t tell you why. An instinct tingles at the back of my neck, making me stop jogging and move more quietly toward the edge of the river.

It’s not until I come into sight of Trisha that I understand what triggered the feeling.

Trisha is there, and she’s not alone.

She’s with a man. A rough-looking man I don’t recognize. He looks dangerous, but a lot of men do now. It might not mean anything.

But it does.

I know it does.

Trisha is saying, “That’s all I could take this time. If anything else goes missing, it will be noticed, and I’ll be in big trouble.”

I blink. Step behind a tree so I’m out of sight but peek around so I can see what’s happening.

Trisha has given the man several cans of food.

Our food.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Trisha continues, sounding rather whiny. “When are y’all going to make your move?”

“Soon,” the man replies. “There’s a lot of them, so we gotta be careful. You just do your fuckin’ job until we’re ready. ”

“I am doing my job. I’m giving you all the information I can. But it’s getting old, and they haven’t found a lot of food lately. If you wait much longer to attack, there won’t be anything to take except the vehicles.”

My heart has frozen in my chest. It’s barely beating. And something hard and painful has lodged in my throat.

Ridiculously, my first response is vindication.

Because I knew it.

I knew it.

From the first moment I laid eyes on Trisha, I knew she couldn’t be trusted.

And that instinct has finally been proven sickeningly right.

All this time, she’s been working for another group.

A gang of some kind. Probably her old group we drove out of that house.

And plotting with them to kill or capture us and take everything we have.

I can’t let it happen. Even if I could get away right now, Deck is still in danger. Micah and Burgundy. Logan. All of them. Most of them are good fighters in their own right, but taken by surprise, betrayed from within, they’ll have a serious disadvantage.

Right now Trisha doesn’t know I’m here and that I overheard, so I don’t waste any more time. I need to get to the Jeep and tell Carl to hurry so we can catch up with the others and warn them. I move away from the tree, treading carefully to not make any noise or bring attention to my presence.

I walk right into a wall of a man. As big as Deck, but not him.

Not him.

I huff in outrage when the man, who must have been keeping guard, grabs me and drags me forward toward Trisha and the other man.

“Caught a little spy,” he drawls.

Trisha gasps and whirls. Her eyes widen with shock and then fear and then something like malicious glee.

“I won’t tell!” I burst out with what’s obviously a desperate, last-ditch effort to survive this. My entire body has chilled now. I can’t even feel my hands and feet.

Trisha snorts. “You think I’m that stupid? You’ve always been on their side. Not mine.”

“You think I’d be on the side of someone who sneaks around, lying and working against us?”

“No. You’re way too righteous for that.” She turns toward the big guy who’s still got me in his grip. “Kill her.”

“Nah.” That’s the man she was talking to, who appears to be in charge. “That’d be a waste. She looks good for a few fucks.”

My stomach roils. If I weren’t so entirely frozen, I might actually vomit.

“I wouldn’t,” Trisha says. “She’s good at squirming her way out of things. Soon as you turn your head, she’ll be gone.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just do it quick ’cause you gotta get back before someone else comes looking.”

Right then, as the first man speaks, my survival instincts finally kick in. I jerk out of the big man’s grip, catching him by surprise but still wrenching a shoulder and tearing the fabric of my top in the process.

The big guy comes after me, blocking my route back to the Jeep. In only a few seconds, I’m trapped by the bank of the river.

It’s not a huge river. There’s actually not a lot of water. But it has a steep, rocky bank and big rocks all through the riverbed. If I jump, there’s a good chance I’ll bust my head open on one of them.

“Little bitch,” Trisha says, shaking her head in exasperation. “Always getting in the way. You shouldn’t be surprised. I told you before.” She raises her pistol toward me. “We do what we have to do.”

Three things happen at the same time.

The first man reaches toward Trisha as if he’s trying to stop her. I duck from the bullet I know is coming. And Trisha shoots.

I fall. Down the bank and toward the river. I’m only conscious of the fear and pain for a few seconds before the entire world goes dark.