Winter Went | #2 Winter Series

Chapter 25

A special chapter for you guys. I have a feeling you'll like it :)

|| Amelia ||

I can't sleep. It's ironic that it's the one thing I tell myself to do that night, and yet I can't seem to do it. The straw seems too lumpy, Zach's snores from the other side of the barn too loud.

But that's not the most important thing. The words Dad said to me are still lodged in my brain.

The last thing you do is isolate yourself from him.

Zach breaks out into an exceptionally loud snore. I look around, propping myself on my elbows. In the darkness, I can just make out the two sleeping figures of Angie and her brother. That's all.

Josh, is all I think.

* * *

Outside, the air is significantly colder. Instinctively, I pull my jacket tighter around myself, almost hugging my body.

He is sitting on the ledge outside, feet tapping the edge, face turned towards the fields.

"Hi," I say quietly before seating myself next to him.

He glances at me, then back to the fields.

"You shouldn't be here." His voice is flat, defeated.

I look at him. Like, really look at him. It reminds me of that time on the bus going back to my house. I can still see the small mole on his neck, the curl of his eyelashes, the broadness of his shoulders, the thickness of his hair, the way his neck joins to his clavicle. And most importantly, I notice the chocolate-ness of his eyes.

"My Dad says I should make an effort," I reply, crossing my legs.

There is the faintest smile on his lips. "Is that all? What your father tells you?"

"No. I couldn't sleep."

He sighs. "Me neither."

He turns to face me. There's a serenity in his face but under it, I can see the traces of worry from the way his eyebrows crease.

Should I be noticing that? I think.

"What's wrong?" I say instead.

I can't believe it. Here I am, asking the traitor what is wrong. But all it took was one sentence from Dad to bring me out here. The last thing you do is isolate yourself from him. And surprisingly, feeling the warmth from his body, seeing the way his breath curls to mist, the pinkness of his lips, I feel close.

So close.

It's like that time I kissed him. Among the fire and ash, our lips met, and I will never forget how that felt.

The hunger, the longing, it's so clear.

He doesn't answer my question. Instead, he draws his feet up, hugging his knees.

"I get nightmares," he says.

"Me too."

"I have the same one. Every time." He turns to me, eyes searching mine. "My mother's on her deathbed, weak, frail, and I'm there. Six-year-old me playing silly games, ignoring her messages." He swallows. "She told me to be brave, but I just wanted my Teddy to dance. A month later she's dead, wrapped up in some disgusting white sheet that covers her face."

There is only the sound of the wind in my ears.

"Did she die?" I say softly. "In real life?"

His eyes are dead things. "Yes."

Something tears inside me, something that I didn't even know I had.

There are secrets to everyone, I realise. Be it big or small, everyone has something that's so intertwined with their heart that it hurts to share. And yet I can't stop thinking of Mum. Perhaps she is under a white sheet too, buried under piles of earth.

Josh and I are more similar than we realise.

Slowly, so slowly, I pull myself closer towards him until my arms are around his shoulders, face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him.

His body is warm, so perfect, so familiar, and I find that I don't want to let go.

We are broken things.

"I've got you," he's whispering into my hair, fingers weaving through it, plucking on strands. "And you've got me. It doesn't hurt quite so much then."

I pull away, eyes finding his face in the darkness, and the moment fades. We're sitting next to each other again, on a ledge, legs touching, looking out into the unknown.

"What do you have in your pocket?" he says after a while.

I look down and pull out the machine.

"I'm not sure. Zoe found it, apparently." I tell him of what I found out this morning. He listens with an interested face, those rich, intense eyes looking thoughtful.

"It's a detonator," he says eventually.

I almost do a double take. "A what?"

"A detonator." He glances at the barn behind us. "Sarah would kill me if she knew I told you but"—his face is warm, eyes glinting mischief—"she doesn't need to know that."

I can feel a smile cracking inside me.

"She lost it a few days ago," he explains. "And it's a detonator for the prisons."

"Which prisons?"

"The one of many Winter prisons that there are. The one she had built. The one you stayed at."

"And why would she want to blow it up?"

He shrugs. "I'm not sure she wants to. I think it might be one of the many inventions that she does for fun, being a scientist and all."

"She could kill a hell of a load of people with it."

"Probably her backup plan if things go wrong."

"But what if..." I chew my lip. "What if we could manage to blow it up without hurting anyone? Then there'd be no more prison—everyone would be free."

He smiles. It's more like a smirk, the kind that makes my stomach flip. "That'd make her mad, but then again you want to make her mad, don't you?"

"You know me too well."

He chuckles. "Anyway, I like the idea. I know the code."

"You do?"

"One-nine-oh-five. Her birthday. Nineteenth of May. And it probably works with some sort of wired connection. She mentioned something about being in the prison to activate it."

I almost go in to punch in the numbers, a smile forming on my lips, when Josh's hand covers mine, stopping me.

"No, not now. If she sees it, she'll know you know. Hide it from her; unleash the plan later."

I look up at him, feel the warmth of his hands a little too much. "There's a reason why you're a government official."

He bobs his head. "Consider it a friendly favour."

A friendly favour. He knows he's testing the waters here, I can see it, but I don't reject it straight away. What are we?

What are we?

"I've got something for you." His voice is serious again. I watch as he digs around his own pockets and draws out something long, dry, and flaking.

It's a dried lavender plant.

"I took some from the field on the journey." He places it in my hand, curling my fingers over the top of it. "Reminded me of you. Actually, I shouldn't be stupid. Of course it did. It's our thing isn't it?"

I shove him playfully so that he almost falls off the bench, laughing.

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