“I can’t believe it!” he said. “You’re doin’ it right now! You’re ready to kill me, not ‘cause I attacked you, but because I attacked your attacker. You’re your own worst enemy, Carrie, and until you learn otherwise, I’m standin’ my ground. You’re welcome, by the way,” he added bitterly. “How about thankin’ me next time instead of bitin’ my head off.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she said. Then she whipped around and disappeared inside her house.
Greg watched her go.
Women! he cursed, swearing them off for good.
He turned back, ready to finish Carrie’s stupid well once and for all. He was met with several smirks. Braden laughed outright.
“Man, there’s no way Jeff was right,” Braden said. “Carrie totally hates your guts.”
“Yes, she does,” Greg agreed. No question about that now. Tomorrow would prove interesting. His next idea was the boldest by far. Unless he could find a way to smooth things over with her before then, it was going to be a long day. For both of them.
“Although I have to say,” Dylan said, “I think I like her better mad.”
Greg thought about her gold head tipped back, her chin jutted out in defiance, and those deep, blue eyes blazing in anger. A slow smile stole over his face. “Yeah. Me, too.”
thirty-four
AS THE FIRST RAYS of dawn lit the budding trees of Illinois, Carrie saw him striding up her walkway. Him being the dreaded Greg. She’d hoped—she prayed—their yelling match had scared him off. No such luck. He held a walking stick in his hand, the hand she now knew she had ruined. Why hadn’t he told her?
She squinted, her heart jumping in her chest. It wasn’t a walking stick. It was a rifle. Was he expecting violence today? She remembered Jeff’s swollen eye and frowned. Of course Greg was.
She thought back to Jeff’s voice echoing through his house yesterday, yelling at Jenna as if Carrie wasn’t five feet away and able to hear every word.
“You tell Carrie and that new boyfriend of hers to stay away from me and my family! And tell her that I’m holding her to her promise. If Oliver so much as sneezes the wrong way, I’m holding her personally accountable. It won’t just be Greg who’s kicked out of this clan!”
Carrie watched Greg walk up her sidewalk. New boyfriend? Had he thought through that consequence when he punched Jeff?
Before she’d been able to apologize for Greg’s rash behavior, Jeff had slammed his bedroom door shut and Jenna threw up in the sink. One step forward and three steps back. And now Greg was ten yards away from spending the entire day with her.
Her head fell against the wall.
If it wasn’t for Jenna, Carrie would have faked appendicitis. Anything to get out of going. But Jenna couldn’t wait for her pride to recover. She needed a doctor.
Carrie whisked the door open before Greg could knock.
“Mornin’,” Greg said with a smile.
His cheerful greeting caught her off guard. She echoed him. “Mornin’.”
Just as fast, his smile faded. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Neither was I,” she admitted.
“You still mad about Jeff?”
She didn’t know what to say. Knowing that Jeff—pushy, overbearing Jeff—turned around and blabbered everything she had said in confidence made her furious at him again. But knowing that Greg—pushy, overbearing Greg—had punched him for it made her furious at him again. Add to it Jeff’s haunted face in the garage and Greg’s mention of her dad defending Amber, and it cast indecision over the whole mess. Luckily Greg didn’t press for an answer and instead took a second to appraise her outfit.
She wore her mom’s blue blouse. When she put it on ten minutes earlier, she was sure Greg would notice and so she was almost prepared for what he said next.
“Tryin’ to impress me again?” he asked with a smirk.
She pulled her door shut and stepped onto the porch. “Might as well at this point.”
“You picked well then,” he said without missing a beat. “Blue looks good on you. Brings out your eyes.”
Her cheeks flamed. She sped up over the cold grass. “It’s just that since we’re trying to reconnect with other clans, I thought I should look nice. This is the nicest thing I own—it used to be my mom’s—and it doesn’t even fit all that well, but…” It took her that long to notice he wore a green button-down shirt she’d never seen either. It, too, brought out his eyes. His brown hair was combed to the side, finally long enough to lie flat. “Looks like I’m not the only one who dressed up today,” she noted dryly.
He brushed down his shirt. “Guess I never had anybody to impress before.”
Blunt as usual, his words brought her back to reality.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea that we go together today?” she asked. “Alone? All things considered?”
“Why? You got plans of attackin’ me along the way?”
Her mouth dropped, making him grin.
“No worries,” he said. “Even if you’re suddenly overcome by my charms and good looks, I’m pretty sure I’ll come out on top.”
By the time he finished, she was blushing so heavily she couldn’t stand it. She turned on heel and headed back across her front lawn. Let Greg find someone else to play tour guide.
“C’mon, Carrie,” he said. “I know I’m irresistible. I tried to warn you.”
“Actually,” she grumbled, “the more you talk, the less interested I am.”
“Ha! That’s more like it. Now”—he grabbed her arm and turned her around—“let’s go. I need your help. So does Jenna.”
Jenna.
Why did Greg even care about Jenna’s health after he just punched her husband?
Carrie followed him, trying to figure him out. His girlfriend back home had to be pretty thick-skinned to put up with him. Not to mention drop-dead gorgeous. With long legs. And dark, thick eyelashes. That seemed like Greg’s type.
Knowing he had a girlfriend took some of the sting out of his rejections. He was just being loyal. He should have said as much instead of being so brash. As they crossed the street, she wondered if he had plans to visit Nicole sometime. Or worse, bring her to Illinois.
Even more horrified, she said, “For the record, I never told Jeff I was”—she cleared her throat—“interested in you. Just that I wasn’t sure.”
“Oh, you were. Or are.” He stopped to study her face. “I better keep it at were. At least for now.”
“Man. How do you walk around with that ego?”
“You don’t think I’m serious, do you?” Whatever he saw in her expression wiped the smirk from his face. “Ah, you do. Well, let me assure you, it was easier to believe Amber than Jeff. You hide your feelings for me well—even from yourself, apparently.” He chuckled at his own joke.
She upped her pace down the sidewalk. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this, Greg. Not only are you wrong, you’re just so, so…And I’m not even…I mean, I never was…”
“Alrighty, don’t hurt yourself. I was just teasin’. I figured if I made you mad enough at Jeff, you might forgive me for what I did to him.”
She stopped. So maybe that was Greg’s game. Divert her anger to where it belonged—or at least where he thought it belonged. It was working. Somewhat.
Curiosity won out.
“What exactly did Jeff say?” But before he could answer, she held up a hand. “Never mind. I doubt he got it right, so let’s leave it at that. Besides, I’m supposed to be focusing on Oliver anyway.”
They rounded an empty house and started for the fields. This early in the morning, last year’s grasses and weeds were thick with dew, soaking her socks through the tear in her shoe. But the clan was still asleep, making it was worth it to leave so early in the morning. Who knew what would happen if she and Greg were spotted together sneaking away for the day.
“You never answered before,” Greg said. “Why the change of heart about Oliver?”
She hugged herself
against the morning chill. “I decided that I’d never even given him a chance. I’ve never allowed myself to think of him that way. He deserves better than that. Especially from me.”
“Especially from you?”
Her headache started thrumming. She hadn’t slept much the night before, reliving Greg’s censure. If Jeff had yelled all those awful things in the meeting about Amber instead, would Carrie have let Amber mend things? Apologize to Jeff? Would Carrie be giving Amber the advice she was taking now with Oliver? Even taking Amber out if it, what would her dad have done in Greg’s place?
No sleep, and no answers. So she clung to the one thing she was sure of. She liked Oliver.
Hopefully enough.
“Oliver deserves better,” she said and left it at that.
“In my defense,” Greg said after a moment, “I gave Jeff a whole two minutes to explain before I punched him.”
“A whole two minutes? How noble of you.”
“Too long, right?”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. But then she sighed a long, deep sigh. “Was he really that bad?”
All humor vanished from Greg’s expression. “Just ask Braden or the other guys.”
Or Amber who, in typical Amber fashion, was convinced Greg punching Jeff was the most romantic act in all of history.
Carrie moved faster, feet swishing through the long grass. If Greg hadn’t been next to her, she would have cherished this morning walk. Spring was exploding across Illinois in a thousand colors. The trees budded with lime green and yellow, and the first of the flowers popped up in lavender and fuchsia. It was beautiful. In contrast, Greg kept the rifle in the crook of his arm. Between the gun and the slingshot in his back pocket, he looked like he was heading to war.
“Um,” she said, “I planned on taking you to a few clans on the way to Terrell. But would you rather check on Terrell first?”
“No. The clans are fine.”
She eyed the rifle. “These other clans are peaceful. Maybe you should…leave your gun in the woods so you don’t scare them off before we can talk.”
“They were peaceful three years ago,” he corrected. “Who knows what they’re like now. But this”—he tapped the rifle—“is for dinner.”
“Oh.”
She quieted her step as they entered a thick patch of trees, hoping they’d spot a deer. Jenna could use the meat. The path had overgrown with trees and shrubs since the last time she’d visited the Ferris clan, the first clan she planned to visit. The trail was barely visible.
Dinner or not, she had the feeling he brought that rifle for protection. Was it possible the other clans had turned violent since they’d last had contact? But she immediately dismissed that. Terrell never took a rifle with him to trade with Barry. They’d never taken a rifle back when they’d had contact with these other clans either because they were peaceful clans. So why did Greg always assume the worst of people? Guilty until proven innocent?
“May I ask you a personal question?” Carrie said.
“Sure.”
She struggled with the question but decided to ask anyway. “Why do you hate the world?”
He stopped in the dappled sunlight and looked at her. “You think I hate the world?”
“Sometimes.” Other times, not at all, and the difference caused her head to spin.
“Hmmm. Let me ask you somethin’. Why don’t you?”
She shrugged.
He studied her in the tree-covered woods, green eyes searching hers, as if looking for more of an answer than the lame shrug she’d offered. With his gaze that intent on her, that probing, she regretted asking him such a pointed question.
“Let’s just say I didn’t used to,” he finally said.
She took that in as he started off. So what had he been like before the Collapse? Was it possible that guy still existed inside him?
Greg pulled up a low branch, ducked underneath, and held it for her. As she stooped to follow, she spotted the long, red scar running down his palm.
“By the way,” she said, “I’m really sorry about your hand. I didn’t realize that—”
“What?” He turned, forcing her to stop. “That for the rest of my life, every time I see my hand I’ll think about Carrie Ashworth?”
She winced. “I’m really, really sorry.”
The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Well, you taught me a valuable lesson that day. Stay outta Carrie’s way when she’s tryin’ to save the world.”
His hand was perched above her, holding back the branch, and she took a sudden accounting of how close they were. A foot maybe. Too close. Way too close. Only he was blocking the path, leaving her cornered under his arm. He smiled as if guessing her discomfiture. She sidestepped into a bush. Thorns and branches grabbed her jeans, but she pushed through and took the lead.
“Tell me about your girlfriend,” she said.
His smile vanished. “There’s nothin’ to tell. I left. She didn’t. End of story.”
In other words, Butt out. Seemed unfair considering how much Greg knew about her supposed love life, but she let it drop. If she had her way, they wouldn’t talk the rest of the day.
Up ahead she spotted the old stone wall, the most recognizable marker along the way to the Ferris clan. She sighed in relief. After three years, she hadn’t forgotten the way.
The rock wall was chest high and a foot wide, and partially hidden with overgrown bushes. While she searched for the best spot to climb up, Greg just took a running leap and hoisted himself up. Once he was steady on top, he turned and offered her a hand. His scarred hand. She pretended not to notice and dug the toe of her shoe into the closest rock. With a heft, she got her stomach perched up on top, but the bottom half of her still dangled.
“I don’t bite,” he said, hand out in offering.
You sure?
Her toes scrambled until they found another hold. She pushed herself the rest of the way up with only a few scratches. Then they stood on the stone wall, taking in the view. She inhaled a deep breath of fragrant spring air, which made him glance sideways.
“This used to be the unofficial boundary between us and Ferris,” she said quickly.
“Does that mean we’re halfway?”
“No.”
“Close to halfway?”
She frowned. “Not really.”
Grunting, he hopped down off the wall. Then he held out that same hand. Ignoring it, she jumped freely and somehow landed on her feet.
“One of these days you’re gonna stop bein’ scared of me,” he said. “I promised to be nice.”
Maybe, but his idea of nice was different than hers.
As they started off again, she focused on the mission at hand. Next to Logan Pond, the Ferris clan was the largest she knew of. That meant they had the most possibilities for Jenna, including a friend of Carrie’s mom, Gayle Harrison, who had worked in an orthopedic surgeon’s office for many years. Carrie wasn’t sure how much Gayle would know about pregnancy when she barely understood orthopedics, but maybe she’d learned more over the years—or had met someone else who could help. If things went well, Carrie would point Greg in the direction of Terrell and head home.
Part of her worried that it would be painful to see her mom’s friend again. Gayle and her mom had served on the PTA for years. They had the same easy laugh, the same love of the outdoors. Only Gayle was still alive. Hopefully.
“She didn’t wanna come,” Greg said.
Carrie’s mind was elsewhere, and it took a second to realize who she was.
Nicole.
“Didn’t wanna leave her family,” he continued, the rejection etching a deep line in his tanned forehead. “Not that I blame her, but still…”
Leaving North Carolina meant Greg’s girlfriend would never see her family again. However not leaving meant she wouldn’t see Greg again. Hence, the rejection. It was a breakup caused by circumstance, which probably made it worse. One more reason to hate the world.
“Was she p
art of your clan?” Carrie asked softly.
“Nah. Our clan wasn’t close like yours. She was just somebody I dated at UNC. Her family lived thirty miles north of Chapel Hill, so every month or so I’d sneak up there to visit. But without phones or any way to communicate, it was hard to keep things goin’.” He shrugged. “In the end, I guess there wasn’t enough of a relationship to make her wanna come.”
Carrie wasn’t sure what to say so she settled on a simple, “Sorry.”
“Yeah, so am I. Sorry I can’t get over it. Sorry it still eats at me. Sorry I’m lettin’ it get in the way of anything else.”
Her eyes flickered sideways. Greg stared up at the newly budding trees as if in a trance. There was no way he realized what his words sounded like to her, but an awkward silence hung between them, worse than before.
She pulled ahead of him by several feet. “So…what’s this new idea you wanted to tell me about?”
He surveyed the small clearing. “Mind if we sit for a bit?”
Yes. But she found a large boulder and sat, hands clasped in her lap. He didn’t sit, though, and instead began to pace in front of her, tapping the rifle mindlessly against his leg.
Carrie watched him while he gathered his thoughts, the enigma of a man. He looked good in his green, button-down shirt and combed hair. More businessman than outlaw. Unlike the other men in the clan, he still shaved, and his face had grown quite tan under his constant workload. With consistent meals, his body had bulked up, no longer the rail-thin man he’d been when he’d shown up. The manual labor had done wonders for his arms, too, and—
She jerked up, realizing where her thoughts had strayed again. Oliver was the one she should focus on. Oliver, with the kind eyes and…and…
A sudden thought made her squirm on her boulder. If Oliver looked like Greg, would she feel differently? She hoped she wasn’t that shallow.
Needing a distraction, she pulled off the seeds from some old yellow grass.
“So this idea of mine,” Greg finally started, “was sparked by what you said that first dinner about buildin’ up America. I always figured the government needed to fix the big businesses, bail out the banks and such, and I’ve been biding my time waitin’ for such a day. But you said we should start smaller and get the little shops goin’ again.” He faced her. “Your flower shop on the corner, who do you suppose owns it?”
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 26
