“Right.” My ears burn red. “So when we get home,” I say slowly, “you and I would be what, exactly?” It feels as though the fire’s burning hotter each second.

Clay flicks at a bug crawling up the log. “According to my pa,” he pauses and swallows, “you’d belong to me.”

I look to his face. “I’d belong to you?”

He shakes his head, holding up his palms in an it’s-not-what-you-think gesture. “Only according to my pa. It wouldn’t mean you’d be mine, I mean, to, you know … We’d just be the same. As before.” He clutches at the log as if he might fall off.

I stare at the cooking chicken on the skillet, once pink, now singed. I can’t meet Clay’s eyes.

Clay stands abruptly, rocking the log back. “Just don’t worry about it, okay? Everything will be fine. I, uh, I gotta go help … I’ll get Ethan to show you to your room.”

When he leaves, I wrap my arms around myself and stare at the flickering fire. Even in its glow, I feel chilled to the bone.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

“Clay says this is your room,” Ethan says, pointing to the nine-by-nine square of musty carpet, cobwebs and spiders. The walls in here are a faded pink. On the floor I see a wallpaper border that used to circle the wall, yellow ducks. A long time ago this was a baby nursery.

“What about you?” I ask, batting away a cobweb that’s tickling my cheek.

Ethan frowns and looks back down the hallway to where Clay’s voice floats toward us. Oh, I see. They’ve been bunking together. I pretend to be very interested in the pile of bedding they’ve left me as I swallow back the pain.

“I’ll get my stuff.” Ethan scampers off.

I tread carefully toward the bedding set in the corner so as to not disturb the dust. Three threadbare blankets each smell of body odor and mildew. At least fresh air blows in from the shattered window facing the dying campfire. The firelight will soon be gone and I’ll lie awake on the hard floor, listening to the rats scurry through the crawl space.

“Eh hem.”

Clay’s lean shadow darkens my open doorway. He’s clutching a two-foot tall metal barrel to his chest. He hefts it up slightly. “Found this. Thought you could have a fire in here if you wanted. Make it a little more cozy.”

I could reject his gift, but a little warmth might make this night bearable. I point to the corner. “You can put it there.”

He nods and drops the barrel with a metallic clang. He goes out and returns with an armload of wood and lights the fire. I stand off to the side, arms wrapped around my body. Being alone with him sends goose flesh over my arms.