Outpost by Ann Aguirre Page A

identify its nature.
    He glanced up with a relieved nod. “That. Can you?”
    “He made it easy,” I said, wondering if that was clear enough. “He was always around, and I got tired of my own company.”
    His brow went up. “So that’s all I have to do? Show up?”
    “It’s a start,” I muttered.
    For a moment I thought he might get mad, but he laughed. “Well, I wasn’t doing that. I gave up too easy, I guess.”
    “I didn’t even know…” I trailed off, struggling to put my confusion into words. “I didn’t realize you believed something about us that wasn’t true.”
    A frown lingered on his face, a trace of doubt. It was like he had some picture in his head, and he couldn’t put it aside. I had made things clear, though. There were no secrets standing between us. Then his expression cleared, as if he’d made some decision. Hopefully it was to stop being jealous for no reason.
    “That was my mistake,” Fade said, kissing me lightly. “I forgot that if you had something to tell me you’d say it straight out.”
    “I would.”
    He raised my hand to his mouth. “You don’t recall, but as we came into Salvation, I told you how I felt. When you didn’t reply in kind, I thought … well. Never mind.”
    “What did you say?” I asked, fascinated.
    Fade laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think so. You’ll have to work to hear it again.”
    Whatever he’d said, I had a feeling it would be worth the wait. For the first time, I noticed that Fade had been sitting on the edge of the sofa the whole night. I thought back to when Edmund had been telling his story, and sure enough, he had been perched just like this. I wondered if that meant he was nervous, but before I could inquire, he changed the subject.
    “Are you happier now that we’re part of the summer patrols?”
    I answered, “Of course. I need a purpose.”
    “I think everyone does.”
    Fade wrapped his arm about my shoulders, drawing me to his side, and I rested my head on his shoulder. “It felt good to fight beside you again.”
    His smile warmed me to the tips of my toes. “It did. I don’t think anybody will question your ability to hold your own now.”
    He was right; I’d earned my place. Despite the day’s losses and my quiet worry, I felt good about that part. “Do you remember when we go out next?”
    “Two weeks, Longshot said. The seeds need time to take root. After that, we’ll patrol regularly so the growers can tend the fields.”
    “Remove plants that don’t belong,” I guessed, “And make sure birds aren’t eating the green shoots.”
    “That’s what he said.”
    If today had been any indication, this task would keep us busy all season. We could expect more Freak attacks, and they might shock us with their capacity for planning. I wished I knew what form that animal cunning might take.
    He pushed to his feet, then. “I should go. The Oakses trusted us to have some privacy, and I don’t want to give them a reason not to invite me over again.”
    “Good night, Fade.” I stretched up to kiss him.
    The farewell lasted longer than I intended. With some effort, he pulled back, breathless, his hands curling into fists so he didn’t reach for me again. “I really have to go now. Before I forget all the reasons why.”
    I went up to bed after he left … but guilt over the way I’d treated Stalker wouldn’t let me sleep. I expected a tap on my window tonight, and I unlatched it because he deserved an explanation. I couldn’t continue being a coward. Half an hour later, he slid inside and landed lightly. My room was candlelit, throwing long shadows. At once I saw that his anger had died into quiet confusion.
    He stayed near the window, not approaching me. “I only came because I want to understand. You were lonely? You were using me?”
    “No. We’re friends … and sparring partners. That’s what we always have been … and still are.”
    “You didn’t make it feel like that,” he snapped.