I give a little laugh, shake my head. “Westfall’s not that far from here. How did we grow up not knowing this much about the weather?”
“Because we didn’t have to. We trusted that someone else would take care of what needed doing.”
I glance at him. “Someone like your father?”
We walk a few steps before Bishop answers. “I know you don’t like him, Ivy. But he did a pretty good job of keeping most of us alive.” He squeezes my hand before I can respond. “But he made us lazy, too. Unprepared for handling our own survival.”
“You seem to be doing pretty well.”
“I learned as much as I could. I tried to talk my father into teaching people the basics, so that they could survive if things ever went bad.”
“He didn’t like that idea?”
Bishop shrugs. “He thought it would cause people to panic. Think Westfall wasn’t safe and secure.” He gives a harsh little laugh. “As if anything can be safe and secure nowadays. It’s all an illusion anyway.”
We walk in silence for a bit, leaves crunching under our feet. I could swear the air smells like snow, although it’s probably too early in the season, even with the promise of an early winter. I glance at Bishop. His cheeks glow a faint red in the cold, his alert eyes scanning the woods. He has a rifle slung across his back. Ash didn’t speak to Caleb for an entire day after he gave it to Bishop. Just as in Westfall, guns are prized out here. But Caleb said from watching Bishop he knew he’d be patient, wouldn’t take any unnecessary shots and waste bullets…unlike other people he could name. That’s when Ash had stomped off. The rifle already seems like a natural extension of Bishop’s lean frame, the same way Caleb’s crossbow is a part of his.
“You love it out here, don’t you?” I ask him.
He stops walking and turns to face me. “I love that I feel useful.”
“You’ve always been useful,” I protest, and he’s shaking his head before I can even finish my thought.
“No, I haven’t. Not really. We already have a president in Westfall. We don’t need one just sitting around, waiting in the wings. Especially when he’s not even interested in the position.”
“Okay,” I say conceding the point. “But it’s more than that.”
Bishop reaches out and pulls a piece of leaf out of my hair, crumbles it between his fingers. “I used to beg my father to let me have a job in Westfall. I would’ve been happy with anything. A patrol guard, working in the cotton fields. Anything. But he always said no.”
“Why?”
Bishop sighs. “He thought if I worked a regular job, alongside everyone else, they’d start to see me as one of them. And he believed the only way to keep control was for people to look up to the president, see him as someone above them, not an equal.” Bishop gives his head a little shake. “I used to sit in those council meetings and look around the room and wonder how I ended up there. No one ever asked me what I wanted. Everyone just assumed I would follow in my father’s footsteps and be happy to do it. But I was so bored, restless every second. But out here, I have freedom. Out here, I’m no one’s son. No one expects anything of me. I can be exactly who I want to be.” He looks at me. “What about you? Is this where you want to stay?”
I’m not sure how to answer that question. I care about Ash and Caleb, more every day. I like living a life that’s not filled with lies and is free of having to second-guess my every action for fear I’ll give something away. I like making my own choices. But I’m not sure this is where I belong for the rest of my life. I don’t know if this is where my story ends. “I feel like this is my life now. But I’m not sure it’s my life forever. I’m just not sure what the next step is. Does that make sense?”
“Perfect sense.” The sky is a dirty white above Bishop’s head, all the trees around us stripped of leaves and their bark the color of ash. It’s like the whole world has turned colorless except for Bishop’s eyes, bright beacons in the unrelenting gray. “We don’t have to have everything planned out. We can take it one season at a time. One day at a time.”
My whole life I’ve been burdened with the knowledge that everything’s been planned for me without my consent. The idea that I can just watch things unfurl organically, make decisions without always thinking about the end game, is something I’m still getting used to. Having choices is what I always wanted, but I still hate that it came at the expense of so many other girls’ futures.
“Do you think everything’s okay in Westfall?” I ask.
Bishop pauses, searching my face. “Do you want it to be?”
He always knows how to get right at the heart of what I’m feeling, slicing through all the unnecessary outer layers to find the kernel of truth. “I still want things to change there,” I say. “And I always will. But I don’t want anyone to get hurt. And I know my family, Bishop. They won’t give up.” On me, yes. On their plans, never.
“My father knows that,” Bishop says. “I’m sure he’s being careful. But we can’t protect any of them, Ivy, not from out here. And we can’t control what happens.”
“I’m sorry you can’t be there with your family,” I say, guilt coloring my words.
Bishop gives me a small smile and pulls me into his arms. “I’m not. We may not be married anymore, but you’re still the most important family I have.” He opens his coat to wrap it around me. “You’re shivering.”
It’s like being in a warm cocoon, and my head drops forward, my lips finding the open vee of his shirt. His skin is so hot against my cold mouth it makes my teeth ache, like swallowing fire. My arms are wrapped around his waist, and I ease my hands under his shirt, spread them across his lower back as I press myself even closer against him. He hisses in a breath and I start to draw my arms back. “Hands too cold?” I ask.
He tightens his hold on me. “No,” he says. “That’s not the problem.”
I run my hands farther up his bare back, flatten myself against him. He sucks in another rough breath. Unlike that night in our bed back in Westfall, at least we are fully clothed this time. “Torture?” I ask him on a whisper as a smile slides across my face.
He tips his head down to mine. “The best kind.”