The kind of thing she could do without feeling anything. But halfway through mending Holden's shirt, a tear along the shoulder seam that looked like it had come from catching on barbed wire, her hands stilled. The fabric was rough, worn soft in places from years of use. There was a faint stain near the collar that hadn't come out in the wash, and the buttons were mismatched, like they'd been replaced over time with whatever was available. It was the shirt of a man who worked too hard and didn't have time to care about things like matching buttons.
Evelyn set it down and stared at her hands. She was getting too comfortable, starting to notice things she had no business noticing, starting to care about people she had no business caring about. She needed to leave, today, now, before she made the mistake of thinking this could last. But when she stood up and looked around the room, at the fire burning in the hearth, at the clean kitchen, at the pile of mended clothes waiting to be returned, she couldn't make herself move. Outside, the wind howled louder.
The brothers came back at dusk, covered in dust and exhaustion. Holden's hands were torn up from handling wire, and Caleb was limping from where he'd caught his boot in a hole and twisted his ankle. They collapsed into chairs around the table without bothering to clean up first, and Evelyn served them stew that had been simmering all afternoon. Nobody spoke. They were too tired for conversation, too focused on eating and getting warm.
Evelyn stood by the stove watching them and felt something uncomfortable twist in her chest. They looked like hell. All of them. Holden's face was drawn tight with exhaustion, his shoulders hunched like he was carrying weight he couldn't put down. Jonah had a new cut along his jaw that he hadn't bothered to clean.
The twins were bickering half-heartedly, too worn out to put any real energy into it, and Levi looked like he might fall asleep in his stew. Roof's done, Holden said finally, his voice rough. Should hold through the storm. Should? Evelyn heard herself ask.
He looked up at her, surprised. Nothing's guaranteed out here. We do what we can and hope it's enough. And if it's not? Then we fix it after.
He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, like surviving by the skin of your teeth was just another Tuesday. Evelyn wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that hope wasn't a strategy, that doing your best wasn't good enough when the world was trying to kill you, but she didn't because she could see in his eyes that he already knew, that he'd lived it the same way she had, just in a different form. Caleb broke the silence by dropping his spoon with a clatter. I'm done. If I don't sleep for the next 12 hours, I'm going to die right here at this table.
You're not going to die, Cain said. I might. You're too annoying to die. Death doesn't want you. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
Holden sighed and rubbed his temples. Both of you get out of here before I throw you out. The twins left, still bickering. Jonah followed without a word. Levi hesitated, then stood and looked at Evelyn.
Thanks for the food, he said quietly. She nodded and he disappeared upstairs. That left her alone with Holden. He sat at the table staring into his empty bowl like it might have answers. His hands were wrapped around the edges, knuckles white, and Evelyn could see the fresh cuts and scrapes that covered his palms.
"You should clean those," she said. He looked down at his hands like he'd forgotten they were there. "Yeah." "I will." But he didn't move.