The Blood that Binds (Thicker than Blood Book 3)

by Madeline Sheehan

  “Thought you liked a man who could last a while?” EJ retorted.

  “Nah, boy—what I like is a man who can keep up.” With a wink, she sauntered off.

  “Fuck me,” EJ groaned, turning in a circle to watch her leave. “The things I would do to her if only she’d let me…” Shaking his head, he flashed me a grin. “How about you, Logan—you into older women?”

  “Sure,” I muttered. In truth, I didn’t have a clue what I liked—something I’d only just realized. I liked women—that much I knew, but as far as a particular type of woman, I’d never given it much thought. Back before everything had gone to shit, I’d ogled my fair share and I’d certainly enjoyed sex, it just hadn’t been a priority. My main focus had always been getting through school and then getting the hell out of town.

  My thoughts strayed back to the countless nights I’d been forced to listen to Lucas and Willow having sex. A minor annoyance that, as more and more time passed, had become torturous. Back then, I’d chalked up my attraction to Willow as a fluke, only brought about by our close living quarters and the distinct lack of females in my life. Now, I no longer had the luxury of ignorance to hide behind; now, I was surrounded by other people, some of them good-looking women, and not a single one inspired the same sort of reaction in me that Willow did.

  The realization made me scowl.

  I was still scowling as I reached the water cooler, hard enough that I felt a headache coming on. Snatching a cup from the stack, I quickly filled it, dumping the water over my face and neck. Only once I’d cooled down and could trust myself to speak without screaming did I turn to EJ.

  “So what’s up with that Jordy guy?” I heard myself ask. Briefly closing my eyes, I cursed myself silently.

  EJ glanced at me, brows raised. “What do you mean?”

  Striving for nonchalance, I bent down, busying myself with refilling my cup. “Just saw him with Willow and wanted to know what kind of guy he was.”

  “Oh man, Willow was walking around camp today?” EJ smiled. “How’d I miss that? She must be feeling better.”

  Having not spoken to Willow in several weeks, I merely shrugged and continued drinking my water. Word spread quickly around camp; case and point, everyone had known about mine and Willow’s fight at the gate only minutes after it had happened. Which meant everyone also knew that I was no longer visiting Willow at Doc’s anymore. They could make all the assumptions they wanted, but I wasn’t about to add any fuel to their gossip fires.

  “Jordy’s alright, I guess,” EJ continued. “And the girls seem to like him.” At that, EJ rolled his eyes.

  As my turbulent thoughts turned downright tumultuous, I suddenly felt like smashing to pieces all those brand-new beams I’d just installed. Which… why? What the fuck was my problem? Willow could do whatever the hell she wanted. She wasn’t my business anymore. I’d fulfilled my promise and gotten her to safety and in doing so, there was no known reason to concern myself with her ever again.

  Only the more I tried to convince myself of just that, the more I found myself feeling the opposite.

  Jesus Christ, my headache was quickly becoming a migraine.

  “Hey, man, you okay?” EJ asked.

  I gave a sharp nod. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” I replied through gritted teeth.

  It was the wrong response, I realized, as EJ’s curious gaze turned downright speculative. “Was Willow your girl?” he asked. “‘Cause I thought Britta had said something about her being with your brother.”

  I found my fists clenching, disliking his implication that I shouldn’t be concerned with who Willow spent her time with. I’d spent the last decade concerned about her; why would that suddenly change? But before I could think of a reply that didn’t include me knocking EJ flat on his ass, there was a sudden commotion.

  “Someone get Doc! Hank fell off the roof!”

  Our cups clattering to the ground, EJ and I broke into a run, slowing at the edge of a small crowd forming around a cabin. A woman turned away in a hurry, her hand covering her mouth. Taking her place in the growing circle of people, I saw Hank. He lay on the ground, his face covered in blood. His left arm was bent backward, looking as if it had two elbows; someone had already torn his pant leg away, revealing an ugly wound on his thigh—a jagged shard of bone jutting through his mottled skin. The older man looked dazed—the whites of his eyes showing. He was panting and shaking, clearly in shock.

  “Where’s Doc? Someone get Doc!”

  “We need the stretcher!”

  “Everyone back up, back up—give ‘em some space!”

  The crowd hurried to part as Doc and two others came running through, pulling a stretcher along with them—the rolling sort you used to see in ambulances. Hank startled back to consciousness as he was lifted and shifted onto the gurney. His eyes bulging, a cross between a moan and wail burst from his lips in a spray of blood.

  As they rushed Hank away, others followed. Those that remained formed small horror-stricken groups, speaking among themselves in hushed tones. I stood alone, wondering what I should be doing.

  As the minutes ticked by and no one returned to work, I eventually collected my things and headed home. I’d only just arrived at my cabin when I noticed a familiar figure limping down the path, looking around as if she didn’t know where she was.

  “Willow?” I called out.

  Willow faltered before freezing on me, her eyes widening in surprise. Standing yards apart, we stared at one another, her expression tight with strain, me unable to think of a single thing to say to her.

  I cleared my throat. “Is everything… okay?”

  Willow shook free from her freeze. Moving cautiously closer, she stammered, “Did you… did you see what happened?”

  “The guy who fell off the roof? Yeah.”

  Rubbing her hands up and down her arms as if she were cold, she whispered, “I couldn’t be in there—he was screaming, and there were… people everywhere, and blood… so much blood.”

  “I… uh, I was just going home,” I said, jerking my chin at the cabin. “You could come in… if you wanted to?”

  Willow glanced at the cabin, her tight expression relaxing fractionally. “I mean… if you don’t… mind?”

  It wasn’t that I necessarily minded her company, only that I still didn’t know what to say to her. Which was ridiculous. This was Willow; annoying, obnoxious, never-listens-worth-a-damn Willow. So why did everything feel twice as stiff all of a sudden?

  With a silent growl of frustration, I pulled the door open. Willow followed me in, passing me as I paused at the entrance, the sweet smell of her flooding my senses. She had always smelled vaguely like flowers, but her scent, coupled with that of the soap she’d recently used, was downright intoxicating.

  Fidgeting with the knot on her T-shirt, Willow’s eyes bounced around the room before freezing on the sleeping bag on the floor. Her throat visibly bobbed.

  “That’s Luke’s,” she said thickly.

  Idly, I rubbed at my neck. “Yeah.”

  “Do you, um, have anything else of his?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Just his bag.” I gestured to where it was propped against the wall.

  “I thought we’d lost everything…” Her words died away as she stepped farther into the room, her eyes sweeping the full length of it. “So, um, how come you’re not sleeping in a bed?”

  Still rubbing my neck, my gaze dropped to the floor. It felt hypocritical to admit that after years of trying to find a place just like this one, and all the creature comforts it offered, I couldn’t even enjoy something as basic as a mattress; that after all this time sleeping on the ground, I’d found that’s where I was more comfortable.

  “The door’s got one of those stupid little clasp locks,” I muttered. “It’s not exactly safe, you know?”

  “So you’re sleeping on the floor in front of the door?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Huh. Sounds like you.”

  Looking up, I found her m
outh quirked into almost a smile and I felt myself relax a fraction. Unbuckling my tool belt, I slung it onto the dresser and took a seat on a bottom bunk.

  “I can’t believe you’re really not sleeping in a bed,” Willow continued. “I mean, when was the last time we even had clean beds to sleep in?” Pushing tentatively on the mattress, she stretched out on her back, causing her cropped shirt to pull up farther, exposing a great deal of her skin and I found myself visually roaming all the dips and valleys of her ribcage, the barely there hill of her stomach, and the mouthwatering space between the waist of her jeans and rise of her hip bones.

  “It’s pretty comfy,” Willow said, turning toward me. “Not as comfy as Doc’s, but still, you should maybe try it.”

  I quickly refocused on her face. “Uh, yeah. Maybe. Speaking of Doc—how’s your leg?”

  Willow shifted to sitting, kicking her legs out one at a time. “Okay, I guess. It still aches. Mostly right here.” She leaned down to rub her calf, a move that caused her heavy mane of curls to fall forward. The sudden urge to run my hands through it was unmistakable.

  I shot up off the bed, turning to the window. “Yeah, so, I’m guessing you’ll have to move out of Doc’s now. At least until Hank heals up?” Recalling the blood spraying from Hank’s mouth, I grimaced. If he healed up.

  “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

  Still staring out the window, I gave a sharp shake of my head. Of course she hadn’t. When had Willow ever put any thought into anything?

  “You’ll probably have to stay here,” I practically growled, growing more agitated by the second, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. Willow had always been clueless; this wasn’t anything new. “There’s limited cabins, you know? Friends and families are paired up.”

  “Oh,” she replied quietly. “I mean, yeah, that makes sense…” she trailed off and I turned around to find her gaze on the hands in her lap, her brow deeply furrowed. “Are you sure you’d be okay with that? I mean, because of our fight…”

  Sighing, I dragged my hands up and down my face. “We always fight. Not sure why that fight is any different than all the others. Let’s just blame this place, okay? It’s a shock to your system—I’m still… adjusting.” I spat the word as if it tasted bad.

  Willow’s entire expression shifted. Her eyes lightened and the line between her brows disappeared. Admitting I wasn’t good at something was not an easy task for me, and she knew it.

  “I thought it was just me,” she breathed. “It’s so noisy here and everyone always wants to talk, you know? It’s so weird.”

  I snorted. Weird was putting it mildly. “Yeah.”

  “And they’re always up in your space.” Willow faked a shudder.

  I nodded gravely. “Telling you about their day and shit.”

  “Yes.” Willow’s eyes grew wide. “And walking right into your room and acting like you’re best friends.”

  “And thinking you’re a UXO.”

  “A what?”

  “Nothing—never mind. You know, they actually complain about what’s for dinner?”

  “Apparently they complain about their showers, too. It’s insane, right?”

  “I think they forgot what it’s like to be out there. They’ve been safe behind these walls…” I let my words die off with a shake of my head.

  “And they all seem so happy, too,” Willow added, scoffing. “Like nothing ever happened.”

  “You always seemed happy,” I bit out before I could stop myself. “You and Luke were always running around, singing and dancing, without a care in the fucking world.”

  Willow’s mouth fell open just as mine snapped shut, our tentative camaraderie gone in the blink of an eye. Looking away, Willow’s bottom lip disappeared beneath the top, her expression crumbling.

  “We were happy,” she whispered. “At least, we tried to be.”

  The pain in her voice straight up slayed me; it ate at me from the inside out, leaving me feeling hollow and empty. Cursing beneath my breath, I ran my hands hastily through my hair.

  “I’m sorry,” I ground out. “I don’t know why I said that. It’s been a long fucking…” I paused and swallowed, wondering if Liesel’s impression of me might actually be true.

  “Life?” Willow offered hesitantly.

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “That works.”

  “Logan, listen, about what I said—”

  “It’s fine,” I said quickly, waving away whatever she was going to say. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I didn’t even want to think about it. “Like I said, it’s this fucking place.”

  “It’s not fine. I was acting completely crazy. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. And you were right—I was being selfish. You pulled me out of the ravine and you brought me here and you saved me and I-I-I’m sorry, Logan. I’m just really fucking sorry for everything.”

  For a moment, I could only stare. Willow didn’t apologize, at least, never quite so easily. And she definitely didn’t agree with me, especially when it came to my less than gracious depictions of her. Shaking off my shock, I fumbled to find a fast reply. “I was just angry—I didn’t mean what I said either.”

  “But you were right,” she bit out, her crestfallen expression beginning to tremble, her hands fisting in her lap. “About everything.”

  While Willow’s unexpected declaration hung trapped in the growing quiet between us, I was left struggling to get my thoughts in order. An admission like this from Willow would have left me feeling smug once; now, though, I found myself lacking the assurance I once had, and wondering if I’d ever been right. About anything.

  “Let’s just forget it happened, alright?” My head was pounding, my temples throbbing, the tendons in my neck feeling as if they might snap from strain.

  “But—”

  “Willow, stop. It’s over and done with. We can… Fuck, I don’t know—we can start fresh or something.”

  “Are you serious?” Willow looked bewildered. “Start fresh? Even after… everything?”

  “We’ve both got to live here, right? We don’t need to make it harder than it already is.”

  We stared at one another, Willow worrying her bottom lip, me wondering if I wasn’t just talking nonsense. There was so much shit between us—the history that suffocated our every move. We’d known each other forever and disliked one another for twice as long. We were comfortable in those roles, and yet… for whatever reason… those roles didn’t seem to quite fit anymore.

  “Okay,” she eventually murmured, sounding every bit as unsure as I was feeling. “Let’s start… fresh.”

  Willow

  Limping past the animal paddocks, I followed the signs that would lead me to the garden—little wooden placards nailed to trees with small red flowers painted on each. I’d slept very little the night before, kept awake for a variety of reasons, the most pressing being the job I was beginning this morning—my very first job.

  It was a week of firsts for me, actually. After an extensive discussion with Leisel, she’d agreed that it was time for me to move out of Doc’s cabin and begin pulling my weight around camp. Regarding living arrangements, I’d been given two options—living with Ella or living with Logan, the only two people in camp who lived alone. Having never met Ella, I’d chosen Logan—figuring the devil you knew was infinitely preferable to the devil you didn’t, and that maybe Logan was right—maybe we could start fresh. Next, we’d discussed my skills, or lack thereof, eventually concluding that I’d try my hand in the garden, tending to the crops grown in camp and I’d agreed. Working outside, doing a job that didn’t require a lot of human interaction, definitely felt like the best option for me.

  The sound of bleating sheep and whinnying horses intensified my headache, the sharp smell of manure making me feel downright nauseous. Placing my hand on my stomach, I picked up my pace, hurrying past the barns.

  “Hey, Willow—wait up!” Turning, I found Jordy jogging toward me, dressed in swim trunks and a faded Hawaiian print s
hirt, the open ends flapping as he ran.

  “Hey,” I said, forcing a smile. “Wow, look at you—you’re actually wearing a shirt.”

  Popping his collar, he flashed me a comically brazen look—wagging his brows while twisting his lips. “Sure am,” he replied. “You like?”

  Taking a closer look at the faded pattern, I found the flowery print also contained turtles on surfboards. “It’s very you, Jordy.” I smiled again, a little less forced. “The turtles are cute.”

  Jordy brushed a speck of invisible lint from his shoulder. “Just like the bloke wearing it, right?”

  I burst into laughter, quickly followed by a pang of longing so sharp, my breath hitched. Jordy was silly in a way that reminded me of Lucas. It didn’t help that his height and build, and chiseled good looks were also so unnervingly similar.

  “So,” Jordy continued with a sly smile. “Where’re ya’ headed this morning?”

  “I’m supposed to meet Cassie.”

  “Ahhh, so you’re on spud duty, huh? Did ya’ pull the short straw?”

  Shrugging, I said, “I don’t think they knew what to do with me. I can’t build anything. I don’t know how to cook. I refuse to hunt, and—”

  “You refuse to hunt? How come? Can’t imagine anyone surviving outside the wall without having to hunt once in a while.”

  “Logan and Luke did that,” I said. “I did a lot of foraging. I don’t really like… killing.”

  As I said it, I could hear the echo of distant screaming, the thud of angry fists, and then a series of gunshots—one tiny explosion after another, sending small clumps of lead tearing through the fabric of the atmosphere. Small, and yet capable of so many monumental alterations.

  I blew out a slow breath, allowing the warm breeze to carry my nightmare away.

  “Yeah, I feel ya.” Jordy flashed another grin. “Well, so, what’re you doing after work—you wanna hang out or something?”

  Frozen in place, I blinked at Jordy. Was he asking me to hang out or was he asking me out on a date? The possibility that he could be interested in me in that way made my stomach flip, and not in a good way.