His fingers clench into fists atop his lap, but he slowly releases them. I watch as color slowly seeps back in, stealing away the white that painted his hands. “I knew this wasn’t going to be easy––”
“Of course not.” I grit my teeth and flip my hair over my shoulder. It needs a good brushing and I could use a long soak. For the first time ever, I find myself wishing I were back in my room instead of in the forest. “What were you thinking showing up like that? You knew you’d set Eamon off!”
“Of course I knew, but I never dreamed he would take his anger out of you!” His cheeks redden with anger. His eyes widen, slightly glossed as he leans back.
“He didn’t—” I start but cut off at his livid gaze. I take a deep breath and hold it for several seconds before releasing it. “Eamon was upset. So were you. He didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You know, that’s what my mom used to say when Dad had a bit too much to drink.”
I raise my eyebrows in shock. I always assumed Bastien’s parents had loved each other. He never mentioned problems. Bastien runs his hands through his hair absently, almost as if he still thought it was longer. “It only happened a couple of times, not long after the Caldonians moved in. Mom never knew he had a stash of alcohol. Dad claimed it was for emergencies.”
He turns away, but not before I catch the distant look in his gaze. “The first time he hit her, I was seven. Took nearly a week for that bruise to disappear. Mom made excuses for him, especially after he assured her that he’d tossed out all of the alcohol, but there was more. There always was.”
I draw my knees back up to my chest. I heard our parents talk about alcohol when I was younger. Several of them would express a longing for it just before they went on a raid, said it would calm their nerves. Mom said she caught a couple of the men dipping into our medical supplies once, said it made them act weird.
“What happened?” I whisper.
There is a bitter chill in his gaze when he looks back at me. “I stopped him.”
He doesn’t say anything more than that. A simple statement that seems to be weighted with a lifetime of anger. Bastien loved his parents; that much was obvious from the first time he spoke of them. They had died when he was younger, during a Caldonian raid that sent Bastien fleeing to the abandoned subway tunnels to survive. His mother was brutalized before his own eyes, his father gunned down. A terrible way to see your parents die.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He rolls his head from one side to the other, as if needing to release tension that has settled firmly on his shoulders. “Just don’t make excuses for him.”
That’s not what I’m doing, I think as I lower my chin onto my hands, rocking slightly. Is it?
How many times have I excused away Eamon’s neglect? Days, sometimes even weeks would go by before he would come visit me, and then it was always that widening hole between us that kept me from ever feeling truly loved. I knew it was there, maddeningly out of reach but still within sight. Eamon wanted to love me, needed to, but was too afraid to accept that he would someday lose it.
“Things change.” I roll my head to the side and press my cheek against my hands. My skin feels flushed and clammy. “People change.”
I can feel him watching me. I hate it when he does this. He always sees exactly what I don’t want him to see, which is usually everything. “You’re miserable,” he whispers. His tone, although soft, is layered with disbelief.
I shrug, putting forth a brave face despite knowing it won’t work. It’s a reflex I’ve grown accustom to over the past few months. Especially any time Aminah was around. “It’s not a big deal.”
Bastien shakes his head as if he is disgusted by how blasé I am about it. “If I’d known—”
“You’d have what?” I cut him off, raising my head to look at him. “Come back for me?”
He flinches back from the venom in my voice. I grimace internally, knowing it’s not fair to take out my bitterness on him.
When he finally turns to look at me, my breath catches at the sight of raw pain within his eyes. “I’d have wanted to.”
As the sun is swallowed up in cloud, the frosty winds return, blustery and merciless. The forest changes around us, the shadows lengthening until they stretch into a wall of darkness. Bastien charges up his laser gun to light the way.
“How much farther?”
His hesitation surprises me. I pick up my pace to catch up with him, only to find him staring intently at the cluster of stars still visible overhead, almost like fireflies appearing for the first time on a warm summer’s night. The clouds will arrive sometime during the night. I shiver, rubbing my hands upon my arm.