“Here”—he shifted about—“give me the oil, and I’ll light the lantern, but just for a short while. I don’t want anyone seeing the flame through the slats in the wood.”
I crept over to him in the dark as best as I could and set the basket and the oil beside him. “Can you see at all in here?” I asked. “Have your eyes adjusted to the dark?”
“Sort of.”
I held my breath and waited while he fumbled around with the lantern and the oil. After a hiss and a quick whiff of sulfur, a match flared to life. Joe’s swollen nose and red-rimmed eyes glowed in the wavering light. My stomach dipped. He lit the lantern and shook out the match. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
“I know, but it seemed wrong to leave you out here with an unlocked door and no treatment for your pain. I’m sure you’re also thirsty and famished.” I sat down next to his outstretched legs and pulled the canteen out of the basket. “How are you feeling?”
“Well”—he took the container and unscrewed the lid—“I could sure use some hooch right about now. That’s not what’s in here, is it?”
I smiled. “You’re not going to find any liquor in a house occupied by Clyde Koning.”
Joe chuckled under his breath. “A boy can dream, can’t he?” He tipped back his head and took a swig of water.
I glanced over my shoulder to ensure I had remembered to close the door behind me.
Joe swallowed and came up for a breath. “What is it?”
“I just wanted to make sure I shut the door.” I shifted back toward him. “Do you think the boys would truly take the time to head out looking for you? Or would those Wittens be too busy getting drunk in that cabin we found near the creek?”
Joe shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. I suppose it depends on how embarrassed Laurence felt over what I told you.” He screwed the cap back into place. “He must be pretending awfully hard to be something that he isn’t if he’s running around with the Klan and a girl like Opal.”
“Opal’s not as bad as some.”
“She’s fast, though. I kissed her once, at a party, just to see if I’d like it, and she wanted more from me.”
I sat back on my heels. “You’ve kissed girls?”
“Just her.” He moved the canteen and the lantern to the other side of his legs, opening the space between us. “And you.”
I lowered my eyes and fussed with the handle of the basket. “I only agreed to that unfortunate kiss because I worried the Wittens would hurt you worse than what Laurence just did.”
“A true love’s kiss, then.” He smirked and wrapped his arms around his knees, peeking at me out of the corner of his eye. “One given to save a life. You must love me dearly.”
I snickered through my nose, and my face and neck burned as much as when I’d swallowed down the Necromancer’s Nectar. “Come on.” I reached into the basket and pulled out the chunks of ice wrapped in the cloth. “Let’s get this ice on your nose. That’s an ugly shade of purple you’ve got there.”
I held on to his back and set the chilled cloth against his nose. He raised his left hand and helped me hold the ice in place.
“Ahh,” he said, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He breathed a sigh that warmed my palm, while his eyelids batted closed. “Thank you.”
“Better?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Joe . . .”
“Uh-huh?”
I kept my fingers below his on the cloth. The sides of our hands touched. His breath fluttered against my skin.
“How long have you loved him?”
His eyes remained closed. “I don’t know. Since I first saw him, I guess. Since I first came to Elston.”
“Didn’t you move here from some little town in the mountains when you were about thirteen years old?”
“Yes.” He gave a small nod. “That’s when I was certain. Of everything.”
I lowered my hand from the frozen cloth, finding my fingers numb. “That’s a long old time.”
“We weren’t much of friends at first,” he said, his voice quiet. “We even got into a fight over a game of baseball at one point, not long after I moved here. But we had our eyes on each other from the very beginning.” He shifted from side to side, readjusting his weight. “It took a little growing up—a little whiskey one summer night right before we both turned sixteen—before we ever broke through all that tension and kissed each other.” He opened his eyes and looked at me from above the cloth on his face. “He’s the one you kissed when you were little, wasn’t he?”
I sat up straight, and my face warmed again. “H-h-how did you know?”
“Because of how much you yelled at him in the woods. The hurt in your voice.” He gulped with a noticeable bob of his Adam’s apple. “He always talked about spending his younger years running around with you and Fleur.”
“Well”—I picked at a corner of the basket with the tip of one of my nails—“we were just kids. Those hardly count as real kisses.”