“So what?” I demand. “We’re just supposed to trust her to be better?”

“Yes.” She says it so simply. She lowers her voice. “I know you don’t trust me, Emerson. I know you’d rather not trust anyone. But we’re all trying.”

“Maybe that isn’t enough,” I say. “Not when mistakes get people hurt.”

Grace colors hotly. “I’d like to think not all mistakes and faults are unforgivable.”

“Some of them are.”

She doesn’t deny that, but she glances at Logan, who nods encouragingly.

Grace swallows. “If you don’t trust me, that’s fine. But there are people here who care about you. I hope you can find a way to trust them. Here or when we get out.”

I scoff, too raw to be polite. “When we get out of here, sure. Do you even hear yourself, Grace? Miss me with your fairy tales.”

Of all the things I expect Grace to say or do in response to my anger, she does the absolute unthinkable. She laughs.

“The store guy who threatened Logan? He told us he survived the plague. He had a bad cough still, but that was the only thing. Can you imagine? There are people out there who still thrive. All we have to do is make sure that’s us.”

Her words hit me hard, and I stumble back to sit down. “He survived? Are you sure?”

“Yes! He said so!” Next to Grace, Logan is nodding vehemently. “And I’ve been thinking. We’re not sick yet. Maybe we won’t get it. Not everyone gets sick; not everyone is infected. Even Isaiah will tell you as much. All we have to do is keep it that way.”

“All we have to do…” I shake my head. I feel faint. “I admire your optimism.”

“I need something to keep me going,” she admits, and briefly I can see the pain beneath her anger.

Logan pulls at Grace’s shirt and signs something. From the other side of the table, already writing down a list of our new haul, Nia interprets. “Elias was the last of us to get sick five days ago. We haven’t gone more than a day or two without anyone coming down with it since the start.”

Sofia narrows her eyes. “Are you sure?”

Logan shrugs but nods.

“We’ll have to make sure none of us catch the plague from Saoirse then,” I snap.

Logan flinches, and guilt flickers through me.

Grace stares at me with steely eyes. “We’ll have to make sure of that. Logan and I will be extra careful these next few days too. But we will survive. And while we do, Josie will take over your duties.”

“Fine.” I pocket the bottle of Advil. I’ll give Casey the ones I won’t need, but for now, I need them. “Thanks for the painkillers, Logan. I appreciate it.”

With that, I stalk out. Away from them. Away from it all. Away from that dangerous sense of hope, because it hurts more than my wrist does. It’s harder to bear than hopelessness.