“So, you going to fuck him?”
“Nyah!” Lottie gasped, looking over her shoulder to her tent where Casey’d disappeared earlier with Grey. “He might hear you!”
“So? He probably wants to know, too,” Nyah asked. “So, are you?”
“No. It’s not like that between us.”
“Pah-lease,” Nyah drawled. “I saw how he looks at you and you look at him, you both want it, so what’s the problem? Go ahead and act on those baser urges.”
Lottie’s hands dropped to her stomach, pressing against the small bump made by her growing baby. Would it really be so bad? To have sex with Casey? She could do a lot worse, she thought and grimaced. At least she loved him. Unlike those others… She glanced at the tent again, thinking of Grey. Her son with the bright green eyes and black curly hair. A spitting image of that nomadic band’s leader that attacked her.
Nyah seemed to know the direction of her thoughts, for she said, “You know Huxley’s not like those men—the ones at Gates or the earlier ones …”
“I know,” Lottie said. Her shoulders slumped.
“Then what’s the problem?” When Lottie didn’t answer immediately, Nyah added, “Go fuck ‘im already.” Lottie’s heart lurched, and she made a high-pitched squeak. Nyah chuckled and bumped her on the shoulder, ignoring Lottie’s distress. “I won’t listen… Much.”
“Nyah!”
“What?” she asked in all innocence. Sobering, she added, “He loves you, you know. He’d be gentle. I know he would.”
“I know.” Sighing, Lottie shifted on her stone perch next to the dying fire and shot Nyah a piercing gaze. Her friend looked at her calmly, waiting for her to respond as she came to a decision. Exasperated, Lottie said, “That’s just it! I mean. I know why I love him, but why does he love me?”
“You’re brave, loyal, independent, the mother of his child—”
“Not really,” Lottie interrupted.
“You know what I meant,” Nyah said. “What isn’t there to love?” After a slight pause, Nyah said, “After all, that’s why we all love you. Just a little bit. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah you would,” Lottie argued. “You insisted from the very first that you always planned to escape. It just took me showing up to make you act.”
“Bullshit!”
Lottie’s eyes widened in surprise.
“How many new assets do you think came before you? You ever think of that? And I never tried—not even once—to leave with any of them.” Nyah took a deep breath, seeming to collect herself. “None of them tried to leave either.” Both women were quiet for a bit, watching the coals glow a deep orange every time the breeze blew across them. Finally, Nyah broke the silence, “Why do you love him?”
“Captive syndrome,” she said. She didn’t even have to think about it.
Nyah’s eyebrow twitched up. “Like Stockholm…”
“Yeah! I barely know him.”
“So, you’re telling me, you love Huxley because you were his captive and grew to sympathize with his position?”
“Well…”
“Did you love that asshole who gave you Greysen?”
“No.”
“Wardell? Underwood?”
Lottie shook her head.
“Cobb?”
“No.”
“Kensie?”
“No. But—”
“But nothing. You were just as much a captive to them as you were to Huxley. And by that reasoning alone, you shouldn’t love Huxley. Or you should love all of them.”
“But…” When Nyah put it that way.
“Why do you love him?”
“He was nice to me. Took care of me. Made me feel safe.”
“You told me Javier did that too,” Nyah said. “Do you love him?”
“As a friend.”
“See? What you feel for Huxley isn’t Stockholm. It’s something else.”
Lottie pondered what Nyah’d said. “What about his ‘knight in shining armor rescue the damsel in distress’ tendency.”
Nyah snorted. “Doesn’t exist.”
“Of course, it does. Why else would he save me or Katie if it wasn’t for the fact, we needed saving?”
“How many assets did he hide away before you?” Nyah inquired. Lottie tapped her finger against her lip, finding a rough spot next to her nail, she nibbled at it, delaying her need to answer. When she didn’t say anything, Nyah confirmed, “None, right?” Lottie nodded reluctantly in agreement. “And after you?” Nyah pressed.
“One.”
“So that means something, right? A change in the way he used to think?” Nyah glanced down at the coals. Her red hair looked like flames around her face. “You sell yourself short. Why can’t he love you for the same reasons we do?” Nyah asked indicating the tents around the small clearing. “You lived on your own for over a year. Provided for yourself. How many of the rest of us can claim that? None. Your knowledge was invaluable during our escape. If it had been just the five of us, we’d be dead by now.”
“Not likely.”
“Likely,” Nyah contradicted. “I don’t know how to hunt. Neither do any of the others. And I never had to butcher a deer before you showed me how. I can’t make leather and can barely keep the fires in the smokehouse lit.”
“I didn’t always know—”
“No,” Nyah said, her tone conciliatory. “Maybe you didn’t. But you do now and… Well…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you were selfish and ran away from St. Louis when you did.”
Lottie snorted.
“If you hadn’t, I never would have met you,” Nyah said.
“You would have. I would have gone to Gates at eighteen when I enlisted.”
“But I wouldn’t have met you,” Nyah said, pointing at Lottie’s chest and glaring at her. “I would have met the Lottie that played at fantasy. The one who pretended to be strong. That Lottie wouldn’t have been the same one I met.”
Lottie grew quiet, contemplating Nyah’s words. She stared at the dying embers until, finally, Nyah patted her on the arm. “I think there is more to your love for Huxley and his for you than you realize. Think about it. And when you realize I’m right, go give him that boom-boom-shake you both are so desperate to enjoy with each other.”
“Nyah!” Lottie cried, exasperated.
“Goodnight,” Nyah whispered with a ghost of a smile on her lips. She pushed to her feet and ambled off to her bed.
Lottie sighed and returned her gaze to the fire.
********Like this episode? Then please take a moment to either comment, share, or like it. Having your feedback (good and bad) feeds my ego. Thank you for reading!
Comments (1)
See all