I take the seat, grateful to have an excuse to move just a little further away from Chase. Ever since that forced moment ofintimacy in East Jersey, the temptations are starting to edge up on me. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to fight them down.
Worse, I don’t know how Chase would react. I still don’t know for sure what he thinks about that night back in the Grave, and just like then, I’ve been careful to avoid discussing what happened in East Jersey. We were both Darryl’s victims, and he’s following my lead. I don’t want to talk about it so we don’t, and that’s that.
Maverick’s the same. He walked in on the worst of it, shooting Darryl before it could go beyond the point of no return… again. Like me and Chase, he’s refrained from discussing anything but hunting, lurkers, and our path to New York.
Something is different about tonight. I should probably stand up, walk over to my sleeping bag, lie back down, get some more sleep… but I don’t.
Instead, I say, “Thanks,” and get comfortable on the fallen log I’m sitting on. There’s a thin stick lying right next to where I plopped down. I pick it up and start aimlessly poking at the heart of the fire.
“You really care about your sister, don’t you?” he asks after a few tense moments.
That’s an understatement. “I guess.”
Maverick rests back on the heels of his hands, head tilted skywards. “We all deal with grief differently,” he says quietly. The flames crackle and spit, sparks flying high, but Maverick’s rumble is clear. “I’d say you care about your sister a great deal. I’ve been around you long enough to have seen there’s an ounce of her in everything you do. You’ve put her on a pedestal.” He pauses. “Chase has, too.”
I don’t know what he means by that. I don’t ask, either.
The end of the stick has caught on fire. For a few seconds, I watch it burn before dragging it through the dirt and putting it out. Once every ember has been reduced to ash, I start to trace six letters in the dust?—
H-A-L-L-I-E
—before scratching it out, erasing every one of the sharp lines.
“She’s gone now.” I remember that long ago morning in the kitchen with Jack, the heartfelt words I still can’t get out of my head. “Hallie’s gone and she’s never coming back. I know that.”
Maverick keeps his face turned away from me so I can’t see his reaction. On the plus side, that means he can’t see mine.
Then, even softer, I hear him say, “Why don’t you tell me about your jacket, Xandra.”
He struck a nerve.
“You tell me about your gun first,” I shoot back. “Why it’s so important you would’ve rather kept it than save me from the auction block? Your precious bullets… you had to throw one away anyway.”
Maverick’s head snaps over to me.
I don’t back down.
He should’ve expected this. He had to have known that, eventually, I’d call him out on what happened in East Jersey. I’m prepared to discuss what Darryl put Chase and me through in that room, but not before I get this part out.
Maverick frowns.
We’re at a stalemate. It’s like our first night in the trees, back before I knew Maverick at all. Even now, after all these weeks together, I’m not sure I know anything more than the few things he’s told me and all I’ve seen.
And then I think about myself. What exactly does he know aboutme?
Oh, sure, I’m Jack’s daughter, and Hallie’s twin. I’m a survivor, too. I once had a brother named Rory. But what else? I never even told him a damn thing about Chase, though I suspect he’s figured it out since then.
You’ve put her on a pedestal. Chase has, too…
There’s a sudden lump in my throat. I swallow it, watching as the flames reflect in Mav’s dark eyes.
Okay. Look, there has to be some sort of give and take. Maybe, for once, I should do some giving.
I toss my stick into the fire before climbing to my feet. From Maverick’s hooded expression, I’m willing to bet he’s expecting me to storm off and, ordinarily, that would be my initial response.
Not tonight.
Taking care to move around the fire without getting burned, I ease down and take a seat beside him.