He sighs, still looking up. “I was too young to remember, but my pa said the Breeders just came for her one day. Said if he didn’t give her up, they’d kill the whole town. Guess they pack a lot of firepower, weapons we ain’t even seen. So,” he blows out his breath, “he gave her up. My pa don’t get emotional, but sometimes I see him lookin’ out and I know he’s thinking about her, the only woman he ever cared about.”

I nod and let the silence hang around us. We sit and look out at the stars and think of our mothers. Could they be together? The thought gives me a little comfort.

Clay turns to me, his face set in reassurance. “We’ll get to your ma.” His voice is so kind.

I nod. “Yours, too.” There it is again, that warm feeling that floods me when he gives me that look—eyes sparkling, smile comforting. A burn runs up my cheeks.

I miss the first words Clay says as my thoughts spin. “Huh?”

“I said, what’s it like being a bender?”

I scan Clay’s face for malice, but he’s just curious. I’m curious about benders, too, never having met one. I swallow hard. “People don’t look at you the same. It’s pretty … lonely.”

Clay finishes his hog leg. He chucks the bone off in the distance. He scoots down in the driver seat, a revolver over his lap and stares sleepy-eyed over the moonlit landscape. “Good talk, but I’m tuckered. Can you take the first shift?”

He falls asleep within seconds, his hat down over his face, his revolvers hugged tight to his chest.

I let my eyes wander to the crescent moon hung in the sprinkle of stars. Alone with my thoughts again. I expect that they’ll turn to Mom or Auntie, but they keep turning to Clay. The way his mouth turns up in his sleep. The moonlight in his brown hair. Before I know it, I’m watching the rise and fall of his chest. I turn my eyes to the road and try desperately not to think of the boy murmuring softly beside me.

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

I wake to a strange sweet smell, distant and musky. I nuzzle closer, my cheek rubbing against the warmth. It smells like home.

My eyes flicker open. My face rests on the soft suede of a worn leather jacket. It rises and falls rhythmically. My eyes fly wide open. My cheek rests on Clay’s chest, my body pressed to his across the Jeep seat.

I snap upright, the panic skidding through me. What’ve I done? I was supposed to keep watch, not cuddle. My jerking wakes him and he blinks at me.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles. He rolls over and goes back to gently snoring.