Chapter 24
S am returned to the clinic with me, and I loved him even more for keeping up a steady stream of small talk with Wolf and his crew.
I didn’t see Mac before the dinner bell rang, but Griz and Jax joined us as we walked to the canteen with Wolf’s crew.
Apple came running down the path as soon as she saw us, throwing herself around my legs.
She was excited to see Griz again, attacking him next and squealing as Griz tossed her into the air.
Then, Apple shocked everyone by demanding a shoulder ride from Lee.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Lee immediately replied, making her giggle.
When we arrived, Nemo was making rounds in the canteen. He looked much better, walking straight and steady and greeting people with his usual energy. He smiled and waved when he saw us, and I managed a smile in response that didn’t feel too forced.
Apple sat between me and Griz again, but she entertained the entire table by chattering about anything and everything.
Apparently, she was no longer afraid of my brother and his crew.
I took a full ration along with broth and ate most of it without feeling sick.
Sam was flirting with Scar, who seemed amused.
She had to be at least ten years older than him, but she wasn’t shutting him down.
I kept looking for Mac, but he never appeared.
“Where’s Mac?” I asked Griz as we walked back to the clinic after dinner.
“Dealin’ with Lana,” he muttered.
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but his body language seemed closed, so I didn’t push.
I turned to go up the path toward the clinic, but Griz, Sam, and Jax didn’t follow.
When I paused, turning to look back at them, they simply called a hasty goodnight and continued down the main path toward the bunkhouse.
For a second, I stood there debating on tagging along behind like a lost puppy, but they were striding quickly away and speaking in low tones to each other.
So, instead, I reluctantly followed Wolf and his crew into the clinic.
They were at ease in my space, but they’d been staying here for two weeks without me.
They pulled out the wooden chairs and sat talking to each other.
Tuck, Lee, and Scar started playing a game of cards.
Lee attempted to coax me to join, but I declined, opting to do some laundry in the sink.
I listened to them talk and laugh with each other as I scrubbed my clothes, and I felt weird .
I wished I could be at the bunkhouse. When I was with my crew, I felt like I was with them.
They were my crew. But separated like this, the doubts crept in.
I wasn’t actually alone this time like I’d been after Trey’s death, but somehow, I felt even lonelier surrounded by Wolf and his crew.
They were tight knit, just like Mac’s crew, but I had no idea where I fit into their group.
Prisoner? Bounty? Murderer? Wolf’s little sister?
I still didn’t know how to process everything Wolf had told me about Carth.
When I finished my laundry, I bundled it in my arms to take upstairs, but I paused at the ladder momentarily, feeling awkward. “Um, goodnight.”
Wolf and his pack all looked up at me.
“You’re going to bed?” Wolf asked, his brow furrowing, and I nodded.
“Kinda early,” Lee added, flashing a grin.
Wolf rubbed his chin and glanced at Scar. “You’re welcome to join us if you want.”
“I’m tired, thanks,” I rattled off the excuse before fleeing up the ladder.
The cloud of misery around me seemed to grow thicker as I hung up my wet clothes to dry.
It didn’t help that my back fiercely ached.
I changed into my sleep clothes and dug through my pack to find my oil infusion.
I couldn’t put it on my entire back, but I could at least get the places I could reach.
I emptied the bag, but it wasn’t there. I frowned, trying to remember where I’d put it.
My eyes suddenly landed on Trey’s pack sitting against the wall, partially buried under my old blanket.
It was in his pack. Grief surged up to join the heavy emotions already crushing me as I remembered the last time he’d rubbed it into my skin.
Our last night together hadn’t been beautifully memorable.
We’d both been exhausted. He helped me with the oil, kissed me goodnight, and took the first watch.
I wasn’t sure it would have been any better to have known, but I did wish that we had spent our last night curled up together, holding each other close.
The grief threatened to choke me as I knelt in front of his pack and slowly opened it.
I pulled out clothes that still faintly smelled like him, and that lump in my throat grew harder to ignore.
All our camping supplies were here, and I hated how things like a simple cooking pot and a chunk of flint could make my eyes burn.
I sorted through them, finally finding my oil infusion wrapped in one of his shirts, but as I unwrapped it, something fluttered to the floor.
I stared down at the small, fat square of folded paper.
It looked like it had been folded over on itself until it couldn’t fold anymore.
Slowly, I unfolded it, my heart thudding in my throat. A full sheet of scrawled words came into view, and my hands trembled as I held it open and began to read.
Darlin,
I hope you never have to find this letter, but I’m writing it just in case. You’re currently sleeping in the bedroll across the campfire from me, and gods, you are so beautiful. I keep looking up and getting distracted by how much I want to pull you into my arms.
But if you’re reading this, it means things didn’t end well. It means I’m gone.
I think I know you well enough to guess you’re probably blaming yourself, and I need you to stop doing that, alright?
It’s not your fault, darlin’. I hope we have a good, long life together, but any amount of time I got to love and be with you is worth it.
No matter what happens. I used to have all these grand ideas about going off and seeing the whole world, but then I looked into a pair of the most beautiful green eyes, and everything changed.
You once told me you felt like you could never be enough, but you are, darlin’.
I got my whole world, Bones, because my whole world is you.
I also have to confess that I radioed Mac from Zeke’s and told him about the other person.
I hope you can forgive me, but I couldn’t leave them unprepared.
Mac is a good man, and I trust him with my life.
He’d never use this against you, and I hope, fuck, I hope if you’re reading this, you’re back at the Vault.
I hope you have all of them around you and that you’re all helping each other through this.
Promise me you’re letting them in, darlin’.
It’s okay to need them, and they’ll need you, too.
Fuck, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write.
It kills me knowing if you’re reading this, you’re hurting.
I wish I could comfort you. I wish I could hold you and promise you everything will be alright.
When Mac was missing his dad, my mom used to say there’s something beautiful about how our bodies return to the dirt.
All of us are made up of life that came before, and all life to come will contain pieces of us.
So look for me in the apple trees, the dandelions, and newborn kittens. You’ll find me wherever there is life.
One thing I know for sure is that I will forever be drawn to your light. I’ll find you somewhere out there again—maybe in another lifetime.
If you’re not at the Vault, find a way to contact Mac. You don’t have to be alone. Mac will always be there for you if you let him.
I love you, darlin’. I’ll never be able to say it enough. I love you, I love you, I love you.
Always yours,
Trey
I sat there, staring at his name with tears rolling freely down my face, but out of habit, I carefully controlled my breaths to keep from making any noise.
I wished I hadn’t found it.
I wished I’d found it sooner.
I wished he was here.
I wished I’d never fucking met him.
Trey knew I’d be hurting . Despite all my attempts to explain, he still didn’t realize that losing him would destroy me.
“Didn’t end well?” What a fucking stupid description of the agony that was his death.
The thought of us finding each other in another lifetime didn’t bring comfort; it just made me hate that version of me who got to have him.
The rage and the grief were so twisted together I couldn’t see where one started and the other ended.
Did other people feel like this?
Other people lost loved ones during the rebellion.
Other people were grieving—my crew was grieving—but they appeared to be continuing on and healing.
What was I doing besides losing myself to emotion or losing myself to numbness?
These violent swings in emotion kept knocking me off my feet.
Was it because of Juck? I’d had to learn the hard way that expressing my emotions led to pain.
I had to feel less to survive, but I didn’t know how to feel less , so instead, I felt nothing .
Now, I felt everything, and it was tearing me apart.
I slowly leaned forward until I folded in half over my knees, the letter still clutched in my hand. I couldn’t move, frozen in place as the pain poured out of me. I had to be dying. I was no stranger to pain, but no person could endure, could survive feeling pain like this.
My mind knew what to do. It wanted to retreat down that worn path to the empty, quiet place in my head where I’d hidden from Juck so many times. I didn’t fight it. Maybe I could stay there forever. A lifetime of feeling nothing had to be better than this.