Page 34 of Hero

“I promise!” The words burst out of him roughly. “But only if you promise not to put me in that position on purpose.”

“I’d never—”

“You’d never what? Insist on doing something dangerous just to prove you can? Just to prove you don’t need me?”

I shy back at the sting of the words. “I don’t think… I try not to do that much… anymore.”

“I know. But you’d still rather trust only yourself instead of trusting me.”

He’s speaking the truth. So deep and so insightful that it feels like it’s ripping my heart out.

“So if I have to promise to let you die, then you have to promise not to put me in that position on purpose.”

After a long stretch of tense silence, I whisper, “Okay. I promise.”

“Okay.” He swallows so hard I can see it in his throat. “I promise too.”

We stare at each other for a long time. Then he finally breaks the trance by clearing his throat.

I rub my face and smooth my hair. “Okay. We should get back to Rina. If we leave her too long, she’ll decide Cal is her favorite person in the world, and she’ll demand to tag along on their trip.”

Zed chuckles softly, putting a hand on my back as we move toward the building where we left the others. “She’s going to be out of luck on that. She’s stuck with us.”

I like the sound of that although I’m not sure why. “Yeah. I guess she is.”

* * *

Cal fills up our truck from their reserve tank of gas before we leave.

It’s such an extreme and uncommon act of generosity that neither Zed nor I know how to thank them. We do our best as we say our goodbyes, and they all assume we’ll be seeing each other again. They know that moving to their community is our only reasonable choice.

They’re right.

We have to do it, and the sooner the better. It doesn’t make it easy. The cabin is the only place of safety—the only home we’ve had—for years.

For Rina’s entire life.

The idea of the move is still so large and terrifying in my mind that I can’t yet process details surrounding it.

Instead, I listen to Rina ramble on about everything we said and did today. She’s sitting between me and Zed in the front bench seat of the truck. After about twenty minutes of constant chattering, she deflates like a popped balloon. She gives a big yawn and leans her head against my shoulder and is sound asleep in less than two minutes.

I put an arm around her so I can pull her into a more comfortable position. Zed glances over at us, his mouth turning up slightly at the corners.

“She finally ran out of steam,” I say, shifting slightly because I’m suddenly uncomfortable.

“Yeah.”

He keeps shooting us little glances, and I wish he wouldn’t. It makes me want to squirm.

We’re quiet for the last ten minutes of the drive. I have no idea what to say, and Zed doesn’t initiate conversation. We wind our way along the dirt road and up to the cabin in the dark. It’s eerie—lonely—as he pulls up next to the house and shifts the truck into park.

I still feel like I should say something. Our conversation earlier has somehow changed things between us. But my brain has been emptied out. I look at Zed in the illumination from the dashboard lights.

He lifts his eyebrows slightly. Waits.

With a shake of my head, I give up trying to articulate what’s still an incoherent mess in my head.

He turns off the engine and gets out of the truck. So do Buddy and I. Zed comes around and gently pulls Rina out after me, carrying the sleeping girl into the cabin.

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