“Here we are,” Elle sang as she stepped outside with two glasses of red wine. She handed me a glass, half full, and then clinked hers against it. “To an impromptu happy hour.”
With a dip of my chin, I smiled. “Why, thank you.”
Elle grinned, slid the screen shut, and took a sip from her glass before she sat on the lounge chair beside mine. I wasn’t much of a wine drinker; at least, I didn’t use to be. I’d always liked to hang out with the guys from my squad, drink beer, spit sunflower seeds at baseball games—and don’t get me started about my competitive streak. I assumed those were real memories, but I sometimes still questioned which parts of my mind were original and which had been tampered with. My time with JJ was all I knew for certain had been me, and I figured that’s why I’d clung to her so much. It was why I loved her, even when she hadn’t loved me back.
Slowly, wine was becoming more enjoyable, though. Very slowly. Elle liked it, and I enjoyed Elle’s company, so I tried to find things I appreciated about it—for instance, it was alcoholic and gave me a good buzz when I needed one; drinking it made me feel different from who I was before, like I was truly starting over and becoming a person I was choosing, not who I was told or programmed to be. I took a tentative sip.
Finding what I liked about wine wasn’t always easy. It made my lips pucker, my tongue twitch, and felt dry going down the back of my throat.
“You don’t like it,” Elle observed with far too much amusement.
I swished it around in my mouth, trying to get a real taste of it, the way we’d read a person is supposed to do in a book she’d found. Then, I shook my head. “It tastes like sour jam, same as the one last time.”
Elle reached for my glass, still held between my fingers, to take it away. “Excuse you,” I quipped.
“I don’t want you to be miserable,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll get some of Alex’s brew from the fridge. He won’t mind, and I know that’s your preference anyway.”
“Elle,” I said, sheltering my wine glass against my chest. “In the three years you’ve known me, have I ever turned an alcoholic beverage away?”
Her green eyes brightened again, and she shook her head. Her dark hair brushed against her shoulders. “No, actually.” She leaned back in her lounge chair.
“Well, other than my partiality to moose jerky, and my increasing fondness of children, nothing’s changed. I’ll drink it.”
With a contented grin, Elle closed her eyes and lifted her face to the afternoon sun as it peeked through the clouds. “Suit yourself.”
I settled back into the cushion and took another sip. “There are subtle hints of cherry, which I like.”
“There you go, getting my hopes up again,” she murmured. “I commend you for trying, though. I don’t drink when Jackson is around. He says he doesn’t mind my drinking, but I don’t like to.”
I knew Jackson wasn’t much of a drinker, at least not these days. Although I never heard the story, I got the feeling it was his vice, just like working was mine. I had no life, outside of working with Ross, to prove it.
“Is that why we’re drinking at three in the afternoon, because you have the house to yourself?” I set my glass on the side table between us. “I never pegged you as much of a day drinker.”
Elle’s lips parted into a small, knowing smile. “Only on special occasions. And an impromptu happy hour with my best friend, after her being away, is definitely one of them.” Her eyes flitted open, and she peered out at the property that stretched around us. It was much the same as it had been when they’d built it, maybe with a few more animals and an additional pasture. The greenhouse was brimming with greenery, and I wasn’t sure how Elle and Jackson kept up with all of it.
“Let me guess, it’s rough business without Jackson being home, huh?” Elle didn’t have to answer, I knew her well enough now to know she was never whole without him. Not that she wasn’t capable of being alone, because she definitely was—she could protect the homestead, run it, and mediate Beau and Thea without him just fine—but she was anxious when he was away, especially knowing how increasingly dangerous it had become during the past couple of outings. We all tended to be anxious for everyone’s sake when they left: for Ross, Woody, Phil, and even old man Bert. Things in our lives felt a bit more settled, but they would never be predictable. Everything always carried a certain amount of risk.
Briefly, I wondered how much Ross still thought about his fiancé. Obviously he’d loved her, since he was going to marry her, but did he still think about her every day? Did seeing Elle and Jackson together remind him of his old life and what he’d lost?
I loved JJ with every ounce of who I was, but I felt my memory of her fading. I felt the anguish subsiding with it, and though I wanted her to be alive, I’d come to terms with her wanting to die a long time ago. But for Ross, the woman he loved was taken from him; she hadn’t chosen to leave. My situation was very, very different.
That I was pondering Ross’s love life at all was bizarre, but I chalked it up to the fact that, while I was gone, I’d kinda missed him glaring at me every chance he got. And his laugh too, when he forgot he was supposed to be a serious hard-ass all the time.
I cleared my throat. “Where are the kids, anyway?” If I had a watch, I would’ve checked it, but out here we gauged time on the ascent and descent of the sun. Batteries—save for what we needed to run machines or heavy equipment that Bert and one other citizen, Kev, could manhandle with their Abilities—were officially out-of-date.
“Sophie is bringing them home with her, but she had a couple things to do.”
It was a vague answer, but I didn’t pry. “Stanley took Aria out of school today, to welcome Woody home,” I told her. “He was surprised, it was sort of sweet.”
“Aw, that’s so thoughtful of Stanley.”
I leaned my head back and tried to remember my own family. I couldn’t, not even in the slightest. College in Anchorage was as far back as my memories went, then I’d enlisted in the Army. I knew Herodson’s programs focused on homeless and sick populations of people to use or experiment on, people who had little to lose or were already weak and pliable. I assumed I had been one of the two, and I tried to decide whether knowing that made me sad, or if I should be grateful that I didn’t remember at all.
Whatever Aria’s life with Nora was before the guys had taken her in, she had people who loved her and cared about her now. “They’re a funny family, aren’t they? Cute, but funny.”
Elle chuckled softly. “For the first few months Aria lived with them, I waited for Woody or Stanley to tell me they couldn’t handle a little girl, but they never did.”
“I saw Woody mending her scraped knee the other day,” I told her. “It was pretty damn cute.”
With an amused sigh, Elle took another sip from her glass, then licked her lips. “That’s one thing Stanley still struggles with, and I can’t help but laugh.”
“Blood?”
“Blood, tears, snot—he’s too OCD for it. But Woody doesn’t mind taking the lead on things like that, he’s got the protective thing down. And Stanley . . . he’s the nurturer. Aria is very lucky to have them.”
We sat in easy silence for only a second before hammering echoed through the cool afternoon. I peered into the trees. “Is that Alex?”
Elle nodded. “He’s been working on that cabin for weeks. Jackson and some of the guys from town have been helping. He’s trying to get it finished before summer since he hates working in the heat.” Her demeanor changed slightly as she stared into the woods, and her openness faded. “It will be a good place for them, I think.”
“I see, and how do you feel about them moving out?” Alex and Sophie had been a constant part of her life for the past five years. Their household of six would soon only be four.
With a small shrug, Elle shook her head. “I want them to be happy and have a life away from us. It’s the whole point of being here—to start over. I’m happy for them. I hope they get everything they want.”
There was a strange longing in Elle’s voice that was a bit more saddened than I’d expected. “But?”
“Oh, nothing.” She forced a smile. “I’ll miss them, that’s all. And”—she held up her hand—“before you say it, yes, I know they will be just across the river. . . but still.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” I promised affably, and I took another sip of my wine. The taste of it grew on me with each swallow.
Elle sat up and turned to face me. “Okay, so I have a question, which you’re not going to like, but I’m going to ask it anyway.”
I groaned and set my wine glass down. “Great. So, that’s why you’re getting me drunk.”
“No—well, sort of,” she admitted.
“Are you saying I’m not approachable, Elle?”
She stared silently at me in answer. At first, it was difficult to look at Elle after JJ died, but I’d since realized that they were different in so many ways, despite being twins, and being around Elle wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would’ve been. Or maybe enough time had gone by, so that everything was just . . . easier. “Well, spit it out,” I said, heaving out a breath in preparation. “Lay it on me.” I took another hearty sip from my glass.
“Ross told me about the serum . . .”
Rolling my eyes, I threw one of my hands up. “Wow. When the hell did he have time to tell you that?”
“You were in the bathroom.”
I growled and looked at her. “First Woody, now you and Ross. Why is everyone always conspiring against me when I’m in the bathroom?”
“First of all,” Elle said, holding up her hand. “We weren’t conspiring. Secondly, he’s worried about you.”
“Right, well,” I said, turning to face her fully. “Did Ross tell you he was considering taking it too?”
“Yeah, but Kat, a lot of things sound better in theory. Do you really want to be experimented on again?”
I let my head fall back, and stared up at the cloudy sky as she continued.
“I mean, what’s so bad about what you can do? Controlling electricity could be so helpful—it could even protect you one day. Why do you hate it so much?”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried not to imagine my handprints charred into JJ’s chest.
“I know we don’t talk about Jenny all that much, but had her choice been different—if she’d wanted to live—you could’ve saved her. That’s a good thing. Think about what else you might be able to—”
“That’s the point, Elle, isn’t it? She didn’t want to live anymore—from the moment I saved her life. I brought her back in Whitely, and she didn’t even want me to.” It wasn’t that I was completely decided on taking the serum, but the idea of not feeling the electrical charge in the air when the weather was turning—knowing I’d never have to smell burnt flesh again at my own hands—would be a reprieve. Even if it was JJ’s face that flashed in my mind when I thought about it, despising my Ability wasn’t about her and what I’d inadvertently done to her anymore, but more the desperation and fear I never wanted to feel again. I hated being reminded of it, and I hated feeling weak; and, if I was honest, I hated feeling the lingering sting of JJ’s rejection that always accompanied it, like somehow, I would never be enough—for anyone.
I forced myself to look at Elle. Her green eyes glittered with sympathy, and I hated that too.
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I told her. “And I can’t believe Ross told you.”
“Why not? He’s clearly worried about you.”
“I’m not sure why,” I grumbled.
Elle barked a laugh—a full, hearty sound I hadn’t expected—and my wine nearly sloshed over the rim as I jumped. “What the hell is so funny?”
“You. And Ross,” she said, more under her breath than to me.
“What—why?”
Elle took another drink from her wine glass, peering at me over the rim.
“Stop looking at me like that. It’s creeping me out.”
Licking her lips with a familiar, knowing glint in her eye, Elle lay back against the cushion again. “The two of you are just so funny.”
I studied her nearly empty wine glass, rolled my eyes, and settled back into my chair. I’m not sure where Elle’s mind was wandering off to, but it made me uncomfortable. “God, you’re such a lightweight.”
She flashed me a sideways glance. “Whatever makes you feel better.”
A low chuff met my ears, and Elle and I both glanced toward the edge of the woods, down by the river. Honey Bear, otherwise known as Bear, named by Thea, poked his head out from the trees in all of his grizzly bear glory. His black, wet nose shimmered in the sunlight, no doubt looking for Beau or food as he ventured closer. He sniffed the air, chuffing again, then took a step closer.
“He’s not here, Bear,” Elle called without lifting her head from the lounge chair cushion. It was as if she was telling one of the neighbor kids that Beau couldn’t come out to play.
Bear’s furry brown head turned in our direction, and slobber dripped from his mouth. He made what sounded like a whimper before he turned back into the woods.
Elle took another sip of her wine and closed her eyes with a sigh. “It’s like I live with Dr. Dolittle,” she muttered, and as soon as the words rolled from her tongue, we both laughed.
I held up my wine glass. “It could be worse. You could be living with the Pied Piper or something.”
She grimaced and clicked her glass to mine. “I’ll drink to that.”