Beyond the Broken Angel

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

"But what if we need to take chances to survive?" Giselle questioned. "There's a bigger chance we find water in that town than we will out here. And if we make a plan and try to be as careful as possible, we should be fine, right?"

Will kept his eyes ahead, his jaw tense.

"She makes a good point," Steven commented.

Will shot the man a withering glare before turning back to his wife. "Fine, we'll go, but only if you agree to stay in a safe spot while Sandoval and I search."

"I promise I will."

His grip on her hand tightened. "I don't like this, Elle."

"Neither do I, but what choice do we have?"

Will sighed, ducking under a low-hanging branch. He changed the subject. "How long have you been here?" he asked, his voice lowered enough that Steven wouldn't overhear.

"I don't know, it feels like hours," Giselle answered. "I woke up in a clearing and saw planes flying over. I got freaked out and ran to the woods, where I found Steven and his parachute hung up in a tree." She glanced over her shoulder at Steven, who was busy looking down at his compass. "He really seems different," she said once she was facing forward again. "Don't give him such a hard time, okay?"

Will frowned at her words. "He deserves it for what he did."

"No, he doesn't. He apologized, and he's not going to do that to me ever again. He made that very clear to me before we ran into you. I trust him now."

"Well I don't," Will said gruffly. "I will never be able to trust that man. Never. Especially not when you're involved."

Giselle rolled her eyes. "You're so dramatic."

"No, I'm not. I'm a husband reacting naturally to the man who tried to harm his wife." He shook his head to himself. "Let's stop talking about this." He caught her eyes, a smile melting away his frown. "Tell me about our son."

Giselle felt her lips tug into a grin upon hearing the words our son. "You already know all there is to know about him," she said. "Nearly every one of my letters is about him."

"I know, but I want to know more." His eyes contrasted his smile, depicting a deep, sorrowful longing Giselle wished she could take away from him. It was the same look she saw in her own son's eyes when he pleaded with his mother to take him to see his father.

"Last week, his teacher told me that he's been doing better than the average child in his reading lessons. He's three. I learned how to read when I was five. Gosh, he's so smart, Will."

"He must get his intelligence from me," Will joked, earning a jab to the ribs from Giselle's elbow. "I'm teasing," he informed. "What else?"

Giselle went on to tell him more about their son, delving into his current favorite TV shows, how he just started going to bed without a nightlight, and she even told him about how she caught him writing on Hester's walls with crayons the month before, innocently trying to draw a car.

"He sounds perfect," Will said, his voice melancholic.

"He is perfect," Giselle agreed. "And he's so ready to meet you. I tell him every day about you, and he keeps pictures of you in his room and makes sure to show them to his friends whenever they come over. Will, he already loves you so much."

Will swallowed thickly, looking off as he bit down on his lower lip.

Giselle didn't say anymore, letting him take time to himself. She had only a glimpse into the pain that he felt, only having been away from her son for a few hours now, and her heart ached for Will. She couldn't imagine his pain, and never wanted to.