A Fate So Cruel

Chapter 6 - A Stranger in the Night

Not sure what to do from here, I went back into the bedroom and picked up the book I had found earlier. I had read a decent chunk when there was a knock on the door.

"It's me," Boston called from the other side.

I scurried to open the door.

His eyes landed on me immediately, flickering over my form approvingly.

"Good, you showered."

My lips quirked. "You always know exactly the right thing to say to woo a girl."

His eyes twinkled with amusement. "Oh, please. Act offended if you want, but I remember when you were a little barefoot street urchin and your Grandad would have to spend hours brushing sticks out of your hair."

My cheeks grew warm, not because of any embarrassment from the memory I'd all but forgotten, but because he remembered such a small detail from our early years growing up together.

"I was a pretty well-behaved kid until you showed up. I'm surprised my Grandad allowed you around at all."

Boston shrugged. "What can I say? I'm charming."

He was more than that. He was enigmatic. He'd always been. Even as a kid. Especially as a kid.

I remembered the first time I caught a peak of him when we were nine. He had just moved down the street a few days prior and had been plucking some weeds in the front yard by himself. I had been walking back from the store with a package from the owner that my Grandad had sent me to collect.

I stopped in the street when I saw him, watching him dig his dirt-crusted fingers into the ground to pull up root systems. His golden brown skin practically glowed in the sun as he pushed his glossy, overgrown dark curls out of his eyes.

As if sensing my eyes on his back, he suddenly straightened and turned around to find me watching him. Then, he smiled. A beautiful, bright, shining smile that had my own lips reflexively mirrored them.

He'd been beautiful. He still was. But some of that charm had hardened and turned cold over the years. It would be for anyone who had been through the things he had.

Really, I wasn't so surprised that he had joined the Resistance. Disappointed? Yes. Pissed-off? Absolutely. But not necessarily surprised.

Boston glanced around the room.

"Is everything alright for you in here?"

"Not sure what else I could ask for...except for maybe some conditioner."

Boston nodded thoughtfully. "Let me see what I can do. I think Jac might have a stash somewhere."

I grimaced. Being on the receiving end of Jac's fury seemed like just about the last thing that I wanted to do. I'd much prefer to continue to rip golf ball-sized knots out of my hair. "I think I'll pass on opening that can of worms."

"If you insist...although I must warn you, if you really want to avoid being on Jac's shit list, you'll probably want to follow me upstairs to cook dinner for the house. She appointed us as dinner cooks for the night since we ate the leftovers...And if you think Jac is a bitch now, you don't want to see her when she hasn't been fed."

"Jesus. I can imagine," I murmur, slipping on my shoes. "Cooking isn't a problem to me. It's the least I can do, really."

Boston led us upstairs to the main level of the warehouse. Much to my relief, the only person there was a new man with a buzzcut and pocked skin who sat in the armchair. I hadn't seen him yet, which led me to guess that he'd likely been asleep in one of the occupied upstairs rooms earlier. He nodded a silent greeting in our direction before continuing to thumb through a stack of papers.