18. Knox
EIGHTEEN
KNOX
When I’m finished checking on the horses and the steers, I head to the shed to find my father’s old radio from the days he used to work in the fields. With the ham radio overloaded with civilian chatter, the phone lines down, the power out, and the scent of fire on the breeze, it’s my last-ditch effort to figure out what’s happening at the government level.
Once I find the radio, I switch the flashlight off to conserve the battery and head back. The intermittent moonlight illuminates the generator idling on the side of the house, and I thank God we spent an obscene amount of money to install it a few years ago.
When I step inside, Ava is in front of the television, her stance wide and one hand on her hip as she scans for news. “Only one channel will come in,” she says, peevish. Sweat glistens on her brow, lit by the screen and the single lamp on the side table. “And it’s not entirely helpful.” I read the prompt plastered across the television.
The following warnings have been issued for the state of Texas. The National Weather Service has issued a wildfire alert for all counties in the Great Plains region. All residents in affected areas should evacuate immediately.
I’m not surprised by the alert, having smelled smoke in the air all day.
“If the wind shifts, it could easily come this way,” Ava murmurs. “And we have no way of knowing.”
Refusing to let my mind spiral, I lift the radio. “Maybe this will help.” I drop to the couch, and clenching my hand at my side, I brace myself and click the radio on.
When Ava plops down beside me, the faint scent of her apple shampoo I smelled last night at dinner wafts off her, and I clear my throat.
“Here—” She extends the antenna for me, and we both seem to hold our breath as I scan the stations . Static. Static. Muffled music. Static. Static. Static.
“...evacuate immediately.” The monotone voice is scratchy, and I angle the radio for a better signal. “Due to increased wildfire events, warnings have been issued for the southern and Great Plains states. Evacuation may be required. Please be advised.”
Ava watches me closely, gauging my reaction, no doubt to temper her own.
“Due to severe wind events in the Midwest, a shelter-in-place order has been issued. Tsunami warnings and mandatory evacuation orders have been announced for all coastal states. Evacuate to the nearest safe shelter immediately.” The voice pauses before continuing again. “Due to unprecedented winter storm events in the Northeast, shelter-in-place or evacuation may be required. Please be advised. Locate the nearest safe shelter immediately.”
Silence stretches for a moment before the broadcast starts again. “The National Weather Service has issued the following statements. Due to unprecedented and severe weather patterns, the president of the United States has declared a state of emergency in the following regions. Please be advised. All coastal communities should find a safe shelter and evacuate immediately. Due to increased wildfire events, a warning has been issued—” I turn the volume down as the broadcast loops and stare at the dusty radio.
“So much for staying here as long as we can,” I mutter.
I lean back against the couch, and Ava does the same, her shoulder brushing mine as we stare at the television screen, its glow almost haunting in the shadowy room.
“We don’t know where the fires are exactly,” Ava points out. “Just because we can smell them doesn’t mean they are coming this way. The wind can carry the smoke for miles.”
“True, but our luck isn’t that good.” I close my eyes as I consider how quickly we should pack and get out of here. But go where? And what about the animals? The truth is, we have no clue where the closest safe shelter is since half of Texas is already gone. And I know that whatever we do find will be inundated with people.
“I don’t know if Sweetwater is any better off,” Ava says quietly, “but at least we have a direction to go.” Once again, Ava waits for my reaction, but I don’t have the energy to care about Julio right now.
“What did it say about the Midwest?” I ask instead, thinking about my uncle’s farm in Ransom. I’ve been so focused on trying to stay here for as long as possible I wasn’t even paying attention.
“Wind events,” she recalls. “Shelter-in-place, I think.”
“Tornadoes,” we both seem to realize at once.
“That’s not entirely surprising, I guess.” Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I find Mason’s number in my contacts and press the call button. The recorded operator comes on immediately, and with a groan, I toss my phone onto the coffee table with a clatter. “Pointless.”
I fail to exhale the tension coiling through every inch of me, and Lucy must feel it too because she patters over and licks my hand. Her blue and gray eyes draw together with concern.
Sitting up, I set the radio on the coffee table. “What do you want to do?” It’s a selfish question, but I’m tired of making decisions and want her to decide for both of us.
Ava looks at the television, her gaze lingering before shifting back to me. She chews the inside of her cheek, which is something I’ve never seen her do, and I wonder if it’s a new tick or just one of a million things I don’t know about her.
None of that matters, though, and closing my eyes, I lean my head back and sort through more pressing thoughts.
“I think,” Ava drawls, as if her thoughts are still forming. “I think we spend tomorrow finishing the inventory I didn’t get to today. Then, maybe we prepare everything we’ll need if the time comes and we have to leave at the drop of a hat. Otherwise—” I meet her gaze again as she hedges. Her lips are pursed, her expression uncertain. “Otherwise, we stay here for as long as we can, where we’re safest. For now.”
This close, Ava’s eyes gleam like smoky quartz in the lamplight. I see fear in their depths. I see exhaustion. But I see her determination and strength too. I can feel it radiating off her, even as she bites her cheek with uncertainty, and unexpectedly, a calmness eases over me. All her life she’s been surviving, and if she can look at me, composed and levelheaded after the hell we’ve gone through in the past twenty-four hours, I know I have to be solid too.
“Then,” I start, unable to resist another glance at her lips, “that’s what we’ll do. Tonight, we get some rest. We can worry about tomorrow when the sun comes up.”
“Yeah, okay,” she agrees, and with our next steps decided, I lean back into the couch again. We both stare up at the exposed beams in the ceiling. The wind chime jingles outside, the low murmur of the radio and the distant sound of the generator fill the room, and still it feels too quiet between us.
“What did he do?” I ask suddenly. Ava seemed far too close to jumping out of a moving vehicle when she realized we were at the ranch.
“What?” She blinks at me, but I can tell she’s tracking because she clams up almost immediately.
“Why are you so scared of my father? I know what a mean bastard he is, but the look on your face yesterday—” My jaw tightens. “It hasn’t sat right with me since.”
Ava’s dark eyebrows draw together and she looks down at her fingernails. “He started coming to the trailer park a few years ago.”
I frown. I hadn’t expected her to say that. “What for?” My fist clenches at my side.
“To remind me how much he hates Julio—and me, I guess.” She’s thoughtful as I sit up and angle to face her fully.
“What was my dad doing at your house, Ava?” My voice is quiet but filled with dread and rage and disappointment as I wait for her to explain. And maybe there’s a little guilt for having known none of this.
“Yelling, mostly. He didn’t come inside or anything. He never tried or even knocked at the door. But he would stand outside, cursing Julio and shouting all the things he wanted me to tell him next time I see him. Sometimes, it was me he seemed mad at. It just depended, I guess, and I think learning Julio had gotten out of prison pushed him over the edge.”
I can think of a handful of nights over the past few years when Wyatt brought my father home drunk. I’d thought it was because he didn’t want my dad to drive home from the bar, but had it been an escort from Ava’s house every time?
“The sheriff apologized but never did much more than that. I know he and your dad were friends?—”
“So what? He’s the fucking sheriff.” I glare into the empty fireplace. “I knew my dad made comments to you sometimes—he blamed everyone for all his problems.” I shake my head. “But I never knew about that.”
Ava pulls her legs in to her chest, nestling into the corner of the couch. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s over—all of it is over.”
It’s what she doesn’t say that hangs in the air between us—Mavey is gone. My father is gone. Hell, the whole town may be gone for all we know. Still, imagining Mavey and Ava alone in that trailer and my father bullying them makes me hate him all over again. As reluctant as she seems, I know Ava isn’t telling me everything, either.
“I’m sorry he did that to you. That you had to worry about my father on top of everything else.”
“It’s not your fault your dad’s an asshole, Knox,” she says, far too forgiving. “Or...was.”
“Still, I spent so much time ignoring him as much as I could...I should have paid more attention.”
“Honestly,” she says with a brittle laugh. “I would take your dad harassing me over this shit any day.” And while I appreciate her making light of it, I can’t find it in me to do much more than smile.
“If I’m being really honest,” she continues, glancing around my house, “I thought you hated me as much as he did. That’s why this is so...weird.” My eyes meet Ava’s for a second before her cheeks redden a little and she looks away. “Maybe you do and you’re just better at hiding it.”
Though I can’t blame Ava for thinking I’m so much like my father, it still rankles me. “I’ve never hated you.” The words form easily. “But I’ve resented you at times, even though none of what happened to my mother and my family has ever been your fault.” Only as I speak the words aloud do they actually feel true. “None of this should have ever been a burden on you.” I stare at the broken portrait on the mantel. “My father destroyed this family after she was gone. Or maybe it was headed that way all along. My mom was the glue holding us all together. When she died, everything imploded.” Deep down, that feels most like the truth. “Kellen was always going to be gay and my dad was always going to punish him for it,” I confess. “None of that had anything to do with you or Julio, or even my mom, for that matter. None of that would have been any different if she were still alive.”
“Is that whose room I’m sleeping in? Your brother’s?”
I glance toward the stairs. “He hasn’t been home in ten years. Not since my mom—well, you know.”
Ava picks at a loose thread in the seam of her jeans. “I’m sorry, Knox.” The sincerity in her voice tears at my heart a little because, like me, Ava has lost her entire family too. “Where’s Kellen now?”
A knot forms in the center of my chest, tightening as I try to speak. “Dead, I think. In California.”
Leaning closer, Ava rests her hand on my shoulder, and I feel the warmth of her handprint through my shirt. “I would say I’m sorry again, but the words seem pointless the more I say them.”
My gaze flicks to hers, then lowers to her pursed lips. “Thanks.” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, but I don’t know who they’re for. Me? My brother? For my family? For both of us?
It might be the summer heat or the world ending, but the air between us feels thick and charged, and my instinct is to move away and put more distance between us. But I don’t. I sit there, staring at her and remembering her when she was a kid, with her knobby knees and long dark braid that reached her lower back. Her knees aren’t so knobby anymore, and the shyness in her eyes holds far too many emotions to fathom. She licks her lips, and even they are fascinating.
Her hand falls away.
I clear my throat.
“We really are orphans now,” she muses, and her voice is so quiet, I almost miss it as I blink myself out of my daze.
The television flickers, drawing her attention, and the glow of it illuminates her profile.
“I haven’t heard from Tony in two days,” I admit. I don’t tell Ava so she feels sorry for me, but because I know they were friends. “He was with his mother in San Antonio. Then, the sinkhole—” I try and fail to swallow the growing lump in my throat. “I have no idea if he’s alive.”
Nostrils flaring, Ava inhales a deep, ragged breath and bobs her head. Slowly. Resigned. “I wondered,” she admits, and when Lucy groans with a stretch, stirring the mood again, Ava rises to her feet. “I should probably get some sleep if I’m going to be worth anything tomorrow.”
I stand, and Lucy hops to her feet too. “Do you want to take a sandwich up with you?” I’m not sure I’m even hungry, but the words come out all the same.
“I’m okay.” She grabs her battered water bottle from the coffee table. “Thanks, though.” With a watery smile, Ava makes her way to the stairs only to stop at the bottom. “Hey, Knox?” She looks back at me. “Thanks for taking care of me today.” Gratitude cracks her voice, and knowing what she’s been going through with Mavey and her own doctors, I wonder when someone took care of Ava last.
“I’m just glad you’re okay.”
She huffs a sad sort of laugh. “Hopefully this isn’t a trend, my having to thank you every night for saving me in some way.”
I want to tell Ava that she has saved me too— my sanity, if nothing else. But I don’t, and she disappears up the steps.
I’m not sure how long I stare at the darkened staircase before Lucy whimpers at my side, licking my hand impatiently. Groaning, I run my hand over my face and head, peering down at her. “Food. And then sleep,” I tell her, knowing we both desperately need it.