Sonia’s powers of persuasion must verge on superhuman, because Hannah consents to keeping them all under her protection.
“Grace can bunk with Risa. You boys can share my sewing room. There’s a daybed in there—you’ll have to either share it or slug it out,” Hannah tells them. “I’ll make this very clear. I am not a safe house. I am doing this just because it’s the right thing to do—but do not take advantage of my good nature.” She goes on, instructing them to stay away from windows and hide if anyone comes to the door.
“We know the drill,” Connor is quick to tell her. “It’s not like we’re new to this.”
“Some of us are,” Cam says, and indicates Grace. “From what I understand, you dragged her into this.”
“I dragged myself,” Grace tells him, keeping Connor from being drawn into a battle with Cam, “and I can hide as good as anyone.”
Satisfied that the situation is under control, Sonia leaves. “Gotta feed the gremlins in my basement before they get restless,” although Connor knows from experience that they’re always restless.
A storm hits twenty minutes later—a steady stream of rain and distant lightning that threatens to draw closer but never does. Hannah orders in pizza for dinner—a bit of absurd normality in the midst of their situation.
The sewing room is upstairs with the rest of the bedrooms. A tiny space with a frilly daybed that insults the very concept of masculinity.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Cam offers, making sure Risa can see his selfless generosity. Risa’s response is to grin at Connor. “He beat you to it.”
“Yeah,” says Connor. “I’ll have to be quicker next time.”
Cam, still locked in competition mode, is not amused. For the rest of the day Risa does her best to avoid being in the room with both of them at the same time, and since Cam won’t let Connor out of his sight, their only interactions with Risa are her quick forays into their cramped room with blankets, towels, and toiletries. “We keep a collection of stuff for the kids in Sonia’s basement,” she says as she hands Connor toothpaste and Cam a toothbrush.
“So are we supposed to share it?” Cam asks with an annoyingly rakish grin.
Risa, flustered, apologizes. “I’ll find another one.”
Connor has never seen Risa flustered. He would dislike Cam all the more for making her so—but he knows it’s not Cam, but the combination of the two of them. Connor wonders how Risa would be with him were the presence of Camus Comprix not a factor.
He finds out after dinner, while Cam’s taking a shower.
Grace has taken to entertaining Dierdre. The giggles from the nursery attest to her success. Connor struggles to find a comfortable position on the dusty daybed. When Risa appears at the doorway, she just stands at the threshold. The sound of the shower down the hall makes it clear that Cam won’t be back for at least a few minutes.
“Can I come in?” she asks tentatively.
Connor sits up on the bed, trying to be less fidgety than he feels. “Sure.”
She sits on the room’s only chair and smiles. “I’ve missed you, Connor.”
This is a moment Connor has longed for. A moment that he’s held in his mind to keep him going—but as much as Connor wants to return her affection, he knows he can’t. They cannot be together. He cannot draw her back into this battle now that she’s safe. But neither can he push her toward Cam.
So he clasps her hand, but doesn’t hold it all that tightly. “Yeah,” he says. “Same here.” But he says it without the conviction he really feels.
She studies him, and he hopes she doesn’t see through his cool facade. “All those things I said—the commercials, the public service announcements in favor of unwinding—you know I was being blackmailed, don’t you? They were going to attack the Graveyard if I didn’t do it.”
“They attacked the Graveyard anyway,” Connor points out.
Now she begins to get concerned. “Connor, you don’t think—”
“No, I don’t think you betrayed us,” he tells her. He can’t mislead her about his feelings that much. “But a lot of Whollies died that night.” What he really wants to do is take her into his arms and hold her tightly. He wants to tell her that thinking of her is the only thing that kept him going. But instead he says, “They died. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Next you’ll be blaming me for Starkey.”
“No,” says Connor. “I blame myself for that.”
Risa looks down. For a moment he sees tears building in her eyes, but when she looks up at him again, her expression is hard. Her vulnerability is once more protected by armor. “Well, I’m glad you’re alive,” she tells him, taking her hand back from him. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
“As safe as can be expected,” says Connor, “considering I have a rogue parts pirate, Proactive Citizenry, and the Juvenile Authority after me.”
Risa sighs. “I guess we’ll never be safe.”