The Blood That Binds by Madeline Sheehan
Logan
The ground was a blur beneath my feet. Air rushed in and out of my lungs; sweat beaded on my forehead, dripping down into my eyes, burning them.
I’d recently taken up running again, ever since Willow had returned to camp covered in bruises and demanding that I leave her the fuck alone. I hadn’t willingly run since before the end of the world; in these unprecedented times you wanted to be conserving energy, not needlessly expending it.
Now, though, doing my damnedest to avoid Willow, I’d found myself needing something to keep me occupied, especially during the meandering hours between work and sleep. Back in high school, back when I’d been an athlete headed for bigger and better things, early morning track time had been my favorite time of the day—just me and my thoughts. Each pump of my legs had been a step closer to freedom. Each thrust of my arms meant I’d been that much closer to getting the hell out of our shitty little town.
Today I also ran with purpose; today I ran to rid myself of the tension coiled tightly inside of me, tension that had been striking and snapping at everyone who’d dared approach me during the last week and a half.
She’d left without me.
But it was more than that. Out of all the people who could have told me, it had been Jordy to deliver the news that Willow had willingly walked outside these walls and into all sorts of possible danger. For clothing that she didn’t even need, of all things. All the rules I’d carefully constructed, everything I’d attempted to teach her over the years, had apparently fallen on deaf ears.
I’d paced all day waiting for her return—in the cabin and then later, by the guard tower, walking the length of the gate until I’d worn a path into the ground. When night had fallen, and Willow still hadn’t returned, I’d demanded to be let outside the wall in order to search for her. Leisel had refused me, reminding me of their rules—the first and foremost being that no one gets in or out until the sun comes up. She’d attempted to reason with me, assuring me that nothing would happen to Willow, that Britta was the most capable person to be outside the wall with. But Leisel’s reassurance meant nothing to me; not when I knew firsthand that being the best didn’t always equate to the best outcome. None of us were infallible, including Britta—who was always at Docs for one thing or another. Worse than her tendency to injure herself, were her daredevil antics during a time where just walking down the street should be considered a feat of bravery.
And then she’d waltzed back into camp with her face a mess, acting like nothing had even happened. Like she hadn’t walked out of these walls utterly unprepared and ended up ambushed and assaulted by God only knew what sort of sick scumbags she’d encountered, or that I hadn’t spent every hour she’d been gone sick to my stomach, unable to shake the feeling that this time I’d lost her for good. I was still sick over it; the idea of her out there without me, and worse, knowing that someone had put their hands on her.
Fists clenched, arms swinging, I ran faster, increasing my speed until my lungs were screaming and my side was throbbing. Ignoring my body’s protests, I continued on, flying around a bend in the path and nearly crashing into a handful of oncoming people. As they scattered, I slipped, catching my sneaker on loose gravel, skidding my knees over the wet, uneven terrain. Growling, I shoved off the ground and I took off running again.
When the stab in my side grew unbearable, and the throb in my calves unignorable, when I could barely suck in a breath, only then did I begin to slow.
“Fuck,” I gasped, bending forward, hands gripping my knees. It hurt to breathe, the stitch in my side flaring with each intake of air. Saliva pooled in my mouth, forcing me to spit; beads of sweat mixed with rainwater dripped from my hair and face, splashing down around my feet. Staring at the ground below, my mind was still racing, though my body no longer could.
“Yo, Logan, heads-up, man, we’re coming through.”
I struggled to stand, scrambling out of the way as EJ and Davey came barreling down the path, hauling a massive wooden arch between them. Stuart wasn’t far behind, wearing his headphones around his neck, and juggling an unwieldy stack of boxes.
“You think you could give us a hand with this stuff?” EJ panted as they passed me. “There’s a ton of crap at Cassie’s that needs to be brought to the dining hall—it’ll go a lot faster with you helping.”
“Here, take these,” Stuart said, shoving his stack of boxes at me. “I’ll go back for more!” the teenager called out, already jogging away.
Davey shook his head. “And that’s the last we’ll be seein’ of that lazy little shit.”
With my arms full, I had little choice but to follow them to the dining hall, where half a dozen people were milling in and out of the building, while others balanced on ladders, stringing lights along the edge of the roof.
Betsey gestured to us from the porch. “Davey, you bring that inside. Put it down in front of the fireplace, please and thank you.”
After peeking inside the boxes I was carrying, Betsey directed me to Cassie with a dismissive sweep of her hand. I found Cassie and Ella inside the dining hall, hanging old fishing nets along the walls while others followed behind them, slipping bunches of wildflowers into the mesh. One half of the building had been turned into a chapel, with bench seating on either side of the makeshift aisle, at the head of which EJ and Davey had placed the wooden arch. The other half of the hall had been set up for dining; instead of the usual bare tables and mismatched dinnerware, there were colorful cloths draped over each table, set with matching plates and bowls, and even wineglasses.
I turned in a half circle, taking it all in, angry, ugly thoughts flashing behind my eyes.
A fucking wedding?
What was the point?
Willow had been right about this place, it was a mirage. Everyone here was living a charade, playing pretend, faking it until they made it—only there was nothing left to make. No point to any of it—and definitely no point to flowers and fairy lights and matching fucking dinnerware!
Slamming the boxes down onto a nearby table, I turned to leave, nearly crashing into Joshua. Startled, I stumbled back, muttering apologies.
“Logan,” Joshua said. “Just who I was looking for. Are you busy?”
“Uh, no? What’s up?”
He drew in close, an unusual move for a man who almost never spoke and almost always kept to himself. “Hank died this morning,” he said softly. “And Leisel doesn’t want to put a damper on the wedding by announcing it just yet. I know you didn’t really know him; figured it wouldn’t ruin your night if I asked for your help burying him.”
Well, fuck.I didn’t know what I’d been expecting him to say, only that it hadn’t been that. Shaking away my surprise, I replied, “Yeah, I can help—lead the way.”
“What about your night?” I wondered aloud as we exited the dining hall.
Joshua cast a questioning glance in my direction. “What about it?”
“You knew Hank pretty well, didn’t you—won’t this ruin your night?”
Joshua didn’t reply right away, eventually breaking the stillness with a heavy sigh. “That’s the price you pay for leading, isn’t it? You have to shoulder the hard stuff.”
As his words settled profoundly between us, I sent a scowl off in the distance. “Seems like an unfair balance if you ask me,” I muttered.
Joshua shrugged. “Maybe it is for some. But I’ve already lived the very worst day of my life, and I know Leisel feels the same. So we make the tough decisions around here, and we shoulder some of the pain for others, and hopefully make their lives a little better, you know? And sometimes doing those things makes me feel like maybe life is worth living again.”
On Doc’s stoop, Joshua rapped his knuckles lightly on the door and after a moment, the door flung open, revealing a teary-eyed Doc.
“I’ve cleaned him up the best I could,” she said, gesturing us inside. “I wrapped him in what I had, but he’s been gone since sunup and I hate to say it but he’s really starting to smell.”
Placing his hand on Doc’s shoulder, Joshua said, “You’re going to put this out of your mind for tonight. Tonight is for Jim and Maria. Tomorrow we’ll say our goodbyes to Hank.”
Sniffling, Doc nodded. “I did everything I could,” she said sadly. “But he was just too broken, and I’m no surgeon.”
“This isn’t your fault, Doc. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine—I shouldn’t have had a man his age up on a roof. Now you go ahead and go on over to my place. I’m sure Leisel would love your company. Logan and I have it from here.”
That evening, Silver Lake glowed gold beneath the setting sun. The entire community had been decorated with thousands of tiny lights. They adorned nearly every building, and most of the trees, too. What hadn’t been strung with lights had been decorated with an abundance of wildflowers.
Glancing down at my hands, I flexed my blistered fingers, the calloused skin on my palms cracking and caked with dirt and blood. Shaking my head, I made a mental note to bring gloves the next time I needed to dig a grave.
Joshua and I had loaded Hank into the back of a pickup truck and driven him outside the wall. Deep in the woods, at least a mile or so from camp, Joshua stopped at a makeshift cemetery among the trees, consisting of five other graves, marked only by small wooden stakes. It had been nearly dinnertime by the time we’d finished and had returned to camp, the early evening air thick with humidity, the sky filled with low-hanging clouds, their vivid hues highlighting the path toward home.
Reaching the cabin, I paused just inside the door, listening to the subtle puttering coming from within the bathroom. Scrubbing a hand across my face, I was contemplating turning around when the bathroom door crashed open, revealing Willow, a small, secret smile playing on her lips.
Then I blinked. This time, really seeing Willow.
And shit… I was done for.
Silky green satin, held up with the barest of straps, hugged her curves tightly, emphasizing the small cinch of her waist and the flare of her hips. It fell mid-calf, highlighting the length of her legs. Over and over again, my gaze strayed to the sharp dip in the neckline, where the delectable curve of her breasts were visible, and the barest hint of nipples present beneath the thin, slinky material.
Her long hair had been twisted upward and pinned into a faux-hawk of curls piled high on her head. She was wearing makeup, too—her eyes had been highlighted dark and bold, her lips painted a deep red.
Brushing a loose curl from her eyes, she glanced up at me in surprise, “Oh, hey—I didn’t hear you come in.”
I didn’t know what to say to her; I didn’t know what to do with myself. For over a week, it had been taking all my willpower to simply keep away from her. Now, though, face to face with her, I was frozen, trapped inside, wanting to bask in every goddamn gorgeous inch of her.
“It’s stupid, you know,” she stammered, laughing nervously, her hands gliding over her hips, further outlining her curves. “I’m all dressed up in this thing, only I have no shoes to go with it. I have to wear my boots.”
I glanced down at her feet, not having noticed her boots until she’d mentioned them. Seeing them—scuffed and stained and looking nearly identical to the pair she’d worn as a teenager—I nearly smiled.
“I, um, left you some stuff to wear, too. You know, in case you changed your mind about going to the wedding. They’re on your bed.” Shifting uncomfortably, she ran her hands down her dress again, accentuating her curves once more.
I was watching her mouth move. I heard the words she was saying, but nothing was sticking. It went in one ear and out the other, all while attempting to convince myself that grabbing Willow and kissing the shit out of Willow was not something I should be doing.
“Logan?” Willow stepped closer, looking up at me through her long lashes. “Please say something. This not talking thing we’ve been doing… I don’t like it. I didn’t mean what I said, I don’t want you to stay away from me. I was just mad and being stupid and… ” she sighed and shrugged. “I’m sorry, okay?”
I knew what I wanted to say. Or rather, I knew what I felt, even if I couldn’t seem to bring myself to find the words that matched the feelings—long-harbored feelings, cornered and captured and then left unattended for years. Festering feelings that reeked of even more emotions I was still refusing to name. Which was fucking ridiculous. I was a man now, wasn’t I? I should be able to at least own up to my own goddamn feelings.
“Willow…” I moved toward her, reaching for her, her name a mere rumble in my chest. As I cupped her cheek, Willow’s eyes shot to mine, widening, yet she didn’t turn away. Swallowing hard, my thumb stroked a soft path, pausing dangerously close to her bottom lip. Staring at her mouth, watching as her lower lip began to tremble, I fought for the right words, fought to grab hold of any one of the great many things I was feeling and hold it still long enough to finally name it.
Loud laughing ripped us from our trance, both of us jumping apart and scrambling away as the cabin door flung open and Britta all but fell inside, Ella, EJ and Jordy behind her, all four of them dressed in clothing that looked more like elaborate Halloween costumes than wedding attire. Britta’s black dress was heavily decked out in sequins and fringe, matching the feather and sequin headpiece she wore in her hair. Ella’s dress was a similar style, only red, and both women wore bright lipstick and heavy eyeliner.
EJ, who couldn’t stop staring at Britta, was dressed in a pinstriped suit, complete with a bow tie and pocket handkerchief. Jordy, who’d swapped out his Hawaiian-style shirts for a white button-down and black slacks, wore a fedora on his head, a large feather tucked into the brim. Not one of them was wearing dress shoes—Britta wore snakeskin boots, Ella had on a pair of worn-out ballet flats, while EJ donned a pair of muddy sneakers. Jordy, as usual, was barefoot.
“Dang, Willow!” Britta let out a wolf whistle. “That dress looks even better on.” Everyone murmured in agreement. Even EJ, who’d managed to tear his puppy-dog gaze away from Britta long enough to give Willow a cursory glance.
“Seriously beautiful,” Jordy added, eyeing Willow in a way that made me want to gouge out his eyeballs with a spoon. And Willow, who’d never given a single shit about dressing up before, turned practically bashful under Jordy’s heated gaze.
Looping her arm through Willow’s, Britta turned her attention to me. “Still not comin’, huh, Eddie?”
I kept my gaze on Willow, who’d dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’m tired,” I managed to grit out.
Britta shrugged. “Suit yourself. Everybody who isn’t a moody asshole ready to go?”
Ella trilled her lips in exasperation. “One sec,” she said, pulling a flask from inside the neckline of her dress. Unscrewing the cap, she took a long swig.
“What is that?” Jordy asked, sniffing the air. “Is that… whiskey?”
“It’s scotch,” I said, grimacing. It’s hard to forget the stench of your father’s favorite drink when he’d spent the majority of your childhood screaming in your face.
Willow’s gaze snapped to mine, biting down on her lower lip, undoubtedly also remembering things that were better left forgotten. I cursed myself silently, angry for having said anything.
“He’s right,” Ella muttered, holding up her flask in cheers. “It’s scotch. If I’m going to be forced to sit through some ridiculous lovefest then I definitely need to be drunk for it.”
“How in the heck did you get your grubby lil’ hands on some honest-to-God booze?” Britta demanded. “And why the fuck ain’t you sharin’ it?”
“Seriously, Ella,” EJ added, gesturing. “Pass that over here.”
“Hell no,” Ella said, clutching the flask to her chest. “Cassie made wine for the wedding—drink that.”
“Cassie’s wine is weak as hell!”
Shrugging, Ella pushed past the group, pulling open the door. “Not my problem,” she said over her shoulder.
“You get your ass back here!” Britta threw the door open, disappearing. With a helpless grin, EJ hurried after her.
“I, um, I’m gonna go, I guess,” Willow muttered in my general direction. As Jordy raced to open the door for her, and she moved toward it, her eyes finally lifted, just barely meeting mine. A heartbeat later, she was gone.