Page 14

Claire

I tried to find a moment to speak to John alone that day, but it never came.

After tending to Kimmy, he insisted that I rest, so I slept a couple of hours in the tent.

I didn’t know if anything passed between John and Asha while I napped, but when I woke late that afternoon, they seemed largely unchanged, sitting on opposite sides of the ruined room, ignoring one another. I sighed.

Thankfully, even after just a few hours, Kimmy seemed better. Her breathing was more normal, and the angry, red-hot skin around the wound had receded. She was noticeably cooler to the touch, and I was willing to bet her fever would break before morning. She may actually survive this.

I could tell the lack of sleep was starting to wear on Asha, even as she tried to stay awake.

I sensed she didn’t want to sleep in John’s presence; the two of them seemed to have taken an instant dislike to each other.

It wasn’t a promising sign that John would be open to allowing her to tag along with us to the Valley .

Can’t you at least smile or something? I wondered, my frustration mounting as I watched Asha’s head fall onto her shoulder before she jerked awake again. Do anything at all to show him you’re not about to slit our throats in our sleep?

The old Asha would’ve charmed him with her cynical sense of humour and silver tongue.

She would’ve told him funny stories about our younger selves, often at my expense—since she’d always perceived me as the prissy, demure one, while she’d been bolder and less careful about what others thought of her.

John would’ve related to that and traded tales of his own troublemaking, much to her delight.

But this new woman in front of me…perhaps she was right. Perhaps I didn’t know her very well at all.

“You can sleep, Asha,” I finally said, pushing aside my frustration. “We’ll keep watch.”

Her dark eyes immediately glanced at John, who’d taken a seat next to me by the fireplace, but after a moment, she nodded.

She had no sleeping bag; instead, she fetched a threadbare blanket from her backpack and rolled it into a pillow before lying right on the ruined floor.

Moments later, her heavy breathing revealed she’d already dropped off.

“She doesn’t trust me,” John said in a low voice, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

I opened my mouth to reply, but he shook his head.

“I’m not complaining,” he said. “She shouldn’t.”

There was something vaguely ominous behind his words. I didn’t have time to dwell on it, however. John covered my hand with his and brought my fingers to his lips, gently kissing them. The firelight illuminated his hard jawline and shining eyes.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Now that Kimmy’s not on death’s door, I wanted to talk to you about what happened at the Cave.”

My stomach tightened. Memories of my father suddenly swirled in my mind, making a lump harden in my throat. I didn’t want to talk about it, yet the news about my father was a leaden weight on my heart that felt too heavy to carry alone.

“What about it?” I said, keeping my voice even. “That my mother and sister revealed themselves to be even more insane than I feared, or that my father… ”

I swallowed, unable to even finish the thought. I stared at the floor, but John used his free hand to tilt my face toward him. His eyes were soft, somber.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I know what he meant to you.”

I bit my bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Yes, well, I suppose my mother never felt the same way about him.”

John stroked my hand, still holding it tightly in both of his.

“Do you believe what she said?” he asked gently. “About him leading some rebellion?”

Of this, I had little doubt. “Yes.”

“Why would he have done that?”

“Because what my mother said was true,” I replied with a sigh.

“He never agreed with the idea that the people of the compound were special, chosen. Despite being a soldier half his life, he took no pleasure in war. He saw himself as a protector of peace, not as a warrior. Brave, but not innately a fighter.”

John nodded. “Like you.”

I gave a bitter chuckle. “I wish. That said, maybe if he’d been a bit less brave, he’d still be alive.”

There was a pregnant pause where John’s probing gaze penetrated all my defences, and I had to look at the floor.

“I don’t know,” he finally said with a shrug, “but going down fighting for a better future…seems like there are worse things to die for.”

I sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

There was a brief pause where John kept stroking my hand in his.

“Do you think that Jim J’s stabbing was an illusion?” I asked.

In truth, I had no idea what I believed about that bizarre bit of theatre. It’d seemed so real…yet I knew it couldn’t be. Something was off.

“I don’t know,” John replied with a sigh. “I keep thinking it must’ve been, but…I’ve also seen enough real stabbings. And that looked real.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” he said. “We just put as much distance between us and them as possible.”

I nodded, staring into the fire. How could so much about my world have changed in just 48 hours?

“What was the painting they showed? ”

Immediately, the image of my father’s painting that I hadn’t seen in years came into my mind. It had once hung in his office; after his death, my mother removed it and I’d never seen it again.

“‘Doorway of Night,’” I replied, my voice sounding hollow. “He painted it when I was about eight years old. I’d been having vivid dreams about books we read together, where I faced dragons or became a princess. I’d wake him in the middle of the night sometimes, to tell him about them.”

I smiled in spite of myself. “He could’ve been forgiven for being irritated, but he never was. He loved my imagination. The door represents the entrance to dreamland.”

The memory sprung into my mind, unbidden: I pointed at the dark silhouette peeking through the door, and my father smiled affectionately at me. That’s you, Claire-bear. My eyes misted with tears that I didn’t allow to fall.

“Come here, sweetheart,” John said softly. “Let me hold you.”

When I didn’t move, he pulled me into his lap, holding me tightly against his chest, tucking my head under his chin. I shook from the effort of everything I was holding back, my body tight as a bowstring. John rubbed my shoulders, easing them down from around my ears as he murmured endearments.

The dam inside me briefly broke, and I turned and hid my face in his chest.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, tightening his hold on me. “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve lost all of them,” I said, my chest aching. “My whole family.”

“I know, baby. But you have me and Kimmy now. I know it’s not the same…but it’s something, right?”

I stilled, swallowing hard. “Yes. It’s everything.”

I took deep, calming breaths as John stroked my hair, and summoned a mental picture of what I imagined Summerhurst to be like.

The image soothed me; already, before I’d ever seen the place, it’d become a sanctuary for me.

A place where the people I loved most lived and belonged—a place where one day, I might belong too.

“Better?” he asked a moment later.

I nodded, moving back. “I thought of Summerhurst.”

John smiled, clearly touched .

“In spite of everything that happened at the Cave,” I continued, clearing my throat, “there’s so much to be grateful for. Kimmy’s on the mend, and we’re on our way to the Valley. And we found Asha.”

John’s eyes shadowed briefly at Asha’s name, but he didn’t comment on it.

“I’ve wanted to be alone with you all day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against my hand.

“Is that so?” I asked with a small smile. “Why’s that, Wastelander?”

He paused briefly, his eyes sparkling in the firelight, and it took me a second to realize he was wrestling with some emotion. He suddenly held my hand in a tight grip.

“John,” I prompted, a little concerned. “What is it?”

He gave me a tremulous smile.

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for saving my sister. You were so brave and made me so proud.”

I stared at him. “I didn’t do anything. All I did was—”

“Tell me exactly where to go and what to do, yeah,” he cut in. “Without you, none of what we did at the Cave would’ve been possible.”

I shifted uncomfortably and looked at the floor. “You did most of the work. And Kimmy wouldn’t have needed saving if it wasn’t for me, anyway.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know that. A million things can go wrong on a trip like this, and what happened was just one of them. If it hadn’t been the cult, it could’ve just as easily been a gang.”

“Still—”

“For Christ’s sake, Claire, can’t you let me give you a bit of credit?” John asked, amused. “It won’t kill you.”

I huffed. “Fine.”

“That’s better.”

Before I realized it was happening, he was kissing me, and I was kissing him back.

The ache of longing started in my chest at the feel of his lips on mine.

His kiss was slow and sensual, his hand fitting into the nape of my neck, cradling my head.

My blood heated as he slipped his tongue past my lips, and a soft moan escaped my throat.

I clumsily turned in his lap to straddle him.

Our kisses grew increasingly wild, clutching at each other breathlessly, until we had to surface for air.

He switched to kissing my neck, and I stifled another too-loud moan .

Asha was still sleeping on the opposite side of the room.

“We sh-shouldn’t,” I stammered, gasping as John gave my earlobe a soft bite.

“I want you,” he whispered, making me shiver. “I’m aching for you. And you don’t want me to make love to you?”