Page 22 of Beyond The Maples
"And I got some stuff for the house. I'll make another air filter while you're gone."
My throat constricts, thinking of him helping me even when he's angry with me. Loving me anyway. A tear slips down my face, and I nuzzle into him.
"Thank you," I whisper.
All the confidence and bravado from earlier leaves me, and suddenly I'm feeling exhausted.
"You can thank me by getting your stubborn ass back here in one piece," he says, smoothing down my hair. I snort.
"Promise me Maple. Promise me you won't play hero and you'll look out for only yourself out there. We all need you." He uses one finger to tilt my head up so he can see my response clearly.
"I promise," I answer, and I mean it.
I have no intention of dying. This seems to satisfy him, and we lay there like that, talking in soft whispers. The heat from earlier seems to have dissipated as quickly as it came, and before I fall asleep curled up in his arms, I wonder why he truly stopped, if there was something other than my leaving holding him back.
An obnoxious throat clearing wakes me up from a peaceful sleep. I realize the predicament at hand as soon as my eyes are open.
I'm curled around Deacon on the couch, clothed but still in a very public display of intimacy. I turn to see both my siblings gawking at us, smirks on their faces.
I leap from the couch, untangling myself, which causes me to fall over in my haste. Deacon wakes up, grinning, as he watches me wipe the drool from my face.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Willow teases gleefully. Linden is smirking, eyes bouncing between us.
"Oh Gods, it's nothing. We fell asleep on the couch." I glare at them.
"Nothing? I'll remember that next time you're using me as a pillow... drooling all over me," Deacon replies with a coy grin.
"Traitor," I hiss at him, grabbing my tunic off the floor. Of course he would encourage their taunting. I can't help but smile a bit at the dynamic. He's always fit right in with them, happily teaming up with my siblings against me.
"So, anyway," Linden starts, "what's the plan for today? When do you have to leave?"
"I'm supposed to be at the station at nine."
My stomach bottoms out. I don't feel ready. I feel like I'm forgetting something. Forgetting everything. I wish my memory was better. I always feel like I'm missing something.
"That's in like half an hour...." Willow says, chewing her lip.
I nod, realizing I've really slept in for once.
"We'll help you get your stuff ready and walk you there," Deacon offers.
"Thanks, but you guys don't need to do that. I'm a big girl," I say.
Linden walks to the kitchen, grabbing us all some water before we leave, when he says, "Honestly, we really have nothing better to do."
I can't help the laugh that comes out in response. Our brother is always so endearingly blunt. I hope whoever he ends up with has thick skin.
"Wow, doesn't that make me feel special?" I tease.
His eyes widen. "I didn't mean it like that! We'd like to, I mean. It's the least we can do..." He blows out a breath. "You know what I mean."
I smile at him. "That will be nice, thank you."
I gather up my small supply of things; wanting to leave most of it for Willow anyway means I'm bringing next to nothing. I only have a small backpack, and it feels weird to be leaving my whole life behind. Together, we head out into the miserable weather. I briefly think of begging Willow to stay back. I don't want her using her good filtering masks on silly things like walking me out when we could say goodbye at home, but I know there's no sense in arguing with the little underworld beast.?
We walk through the empty streets, everyone is either at work or hiding from the swirling gusts of powdery particles that ravage our town. We come to the old station, where trains and vehicles used to come through from all over the country with supplies. It sits mostly empty now, wood boarding up the broken windows of the rusty booth at the center.
There's one vehicle sitting off to the side. It's been fixed so many times over, I'm sure it hardly resembles what it was originally. A large truck with a long cab, patched canvas creating a tent over the back, sits by itself. Its driver, inNew Providence gear, stands fiddling with the solar panels strapped to the roof. I suspect it's difficult to keep them running, from lack of parts and direct sunlight.
