The Blood That Binds by Madeline Sheehan

 

Willow

“What the heck happened?” Doc exclaimed. Having thrown open her front door, she stood in the entrance in her pajamas, squinting into the darkness.

“She’s bleedin’ pretty good,” Joe said, relinquishing his supportive hold on my arm as Doc ushered me inside, seating me beneath a flickering overhead light. Taking my face in hand, she peered closely at my forehead.

“You’re going to need a stitch,” she muttered. “Joe, go grab a towel and press it to the wound—I’ll grab my sewing kit.”

“I’m fine,” I told them, even as my head throbbed.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, even as Doc’s needle pinched my skin.

“I’m fine,” I whimpered, tears slipping free as I crawled into bed beside Britta.

“Hush now, sugar. Just close them eyes. Your mess’ll still be here come mornin’.”

Sleep came in short fitful bursts, ebbing and flowing alongside the swell of sickness that refused to leave me. Each time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Lucas standing at the edge of the dock, pain and betrayal flashing across his face. And every time I opened them, all I could think of was Logan and the haunted look in his eyes as Joe led me, bleeding, from the cabin.

I’d done that—I’d destroyed what little was left of their family.

I left Britta’s bed just before sunrise, the morning twilight not yet visible on the horizon. The grass shimmering with dew, splashed with heavy fog, I flew through camp like a wraith, my bare feet barely skimming the ground. I didn’t know who or what awaited me at the cabin, I only knew that this was my mess, and I had to be there, too.

“Willow.” Lucas stood from the table as I blew through the door, his eyes bloodshot, his chin swollen and mottled with purple and blue. The thud of Logan’s fist crashing against his face echoed and I flinched, shoving the memory away.

“How’s your head?” he asked, touching his own.

I reached for the two sutures at my hairline, flinching as my fingertips grazed them. “It’s… fine,” I said, my words sticking in my throat. “How’s your… face?”

“Fine,” he said.

A beat of silence passed, during which Lucas dropped his gaze and began to fumble with his hands. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I never would have… I mean, it was an accident. I swear it.”

My hand flew to my mouth, as if I might hold back the sob that threatened. “I know that. I know you. I know you’d never hurt anyone, least of all me.”

But even as I said it, the words felt wrong. The old Lucas, yes—he wouldn’t have been capable of hurting someone. This new version—I wasn’t quite so sure about.

“Willow.” Lucas rounded the table, though he didn’t approach me. “What do you think about maybe coming to Everdeen with me? I mean, it’s not as nice as this place, but it could be a fresh start for us.”

A fresh start.The same two words Logan had said to me many months ago. I shook my head, my tears spilling over. Oh god, my heart was breaking. It was literally splitting in two, their names etched upon each piece. Lucas. Logan. The boy I’d loved. The man I loved.

“Last night you said that you and Logan happened because you thought I was dead; well, I’m not dead, am I? I’m right here. We can fix this, Willow. I know we can. We’ll go back to the way things were—me and you against the world, right?” His voice contorted as his eyes implored me.

A single breath left me in a painful puff. His plea was a punch to my already aching chest. “Luke, I don’t think we can.”

“No, I know we can. You were grieving and Logan took advantage of you. This is on him. We can work through it.”

“Luke, no, that’s not what happened. He didn’t take advantage of me. He wouldn’t do that.”

Lucas’s lips thinned, his jaw clenching. “Holy shit,” he ground out. “You’re fuckingdefending him, again.” As his voice rose along with his temper, I took a step back, nearly tripping over the shoes stacked against the wall. Blinking down at them, my breath froze in my chest.

They were all mine.

My gaze swung across the room, pausing on the empty space beneath Logan’s bed.

The emergency backpack was gone.

Darting across the room, I yanked Logan’s dresser drawers open, one by one.

Empty.

“Luke.” I pressed the back of my trembling hand to my mouth. “Where’s Logan?”

Lucas only stared at me, his stare growing more intense the angrier he grew, until he was red-faced and visibly shaking. I stared back, my breath coming in rapid pants, as if my lungs were attempting to keep time with my furiously beating heart.

“Lucas!” I practically screamed his name. “Where is he?”

“Why do you care where he is?” Lucas roared. “Why does it fucking matter?”

He already knew why—I could see it in his eyes and the twist of his mouth—but he still needed to hear me say it, no matter how painful the admission was going to be. For the both of us.

“Because I love him.” Though softly spoken, my admission was pained and poignant, akin to the scratch of a nail across a chalkboard, the cry of an injured cat, and the squeal of a poorly played violin, and sounded every bit as bitter as it tasted leaving my lips.

But it was true.

The girl I’d been had loved Lucas with her whole heart. We’d shared a million unforgettable moments. He’d been my safe space, my happy place, and my shelter in a storm when I’d needed someone to hold me close and calm those riotous feelings inside me. But that was then and this was now, and I wasn’t the same person anymore. The woman I was didn’t want to feel safe or comfortable. I didn’t want to subdue my passion. I wanted every heart-pounding, stomach-dipping, half-crazed moment and every intense, exhausting, all-consuming second.

And I wanted each one of those seconds with Logan.

Lucas’s eyes blinked closed. My soft words as effective as if I’d screamed them. His face contorted, a thousand different expressions flickering before he settled on a slow-growing sneer. “Logan’s gone,” he spat. “He left last night. Hours ago.”

He was only confirming what I already knew, even so, I felt my stomach sink straight to my knees. He’d left hours ago. Which meant, depending on how fast he was going, he could be miles away by now.

Cursing, I dropped to the floor, pulling out an old military field pack that had belonged to Davey from beneath my bed. I didn’t have much in it, I’d only just started putting together an emergency pack, but I was hoping I wouldn’t need much—only a few days’ worth of supplies.

“What are you doing?” Lucas snarled as I was stuffing clothing inside the bag. “Are you actually going after him? Do you really think you’ll find him? He’s had hours of walking time and you’re… you.”

Ignoring the slight in favor of pulling a pair of socks on, I turned my attention to lacing my boots up.

“You couldn’t even find me.” Lucas laughed bitterly. “And I was right below your fucking feet.”

I snapped upright, pinning Lucas with an equally cold glare as the one he was leveling at me. Even glaring at him, my eyes began to fill. “Days,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “We searched for you for days and we would have never stopped if I hadn’t gotten sick.”

“But you never went back out, did you? After you’d found this place and you were better, neither of you went looking for me again. You didn’t want to find me, did you?” More horrible laughter rang through the cabin.

I couldn’t speak. There were a thousand things I wanted to say to him, to make him understand, but I already knew he wouldn’t hear me. So what was left? Lucas was entitled to his anger, even if he was wrong. Tears rolling down my cheeks, I shouldered my pack and turned to the door.

“Willow,” he bit out suddenly. “If you walk out of here—if you go after him—you’re never going to see me again.”

I froze with my hand on the doorknob.

Lucas. Logan.

My tears fell faster.

Lucas. Logan.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep, shuddering breath and when I opened them again, I opened the door.

“Goodbye, Luke.”