Year One (Chronicles of The One #1)(71)

*

At the house, Lana kept herself busy adapting her recipe for Tuscan Chicken to the ingredients on hand. Both Kim and Poe stayed in the great room while she worked and, as she’d waved off their offers of help, passed the time playing Scrabble.

“Treenail? Give me a break.” Not for the first time in the match, Poe jabbed a finger at Kim’s play. “What’s that, a nail in a damn tree?”

Her lashes, long over exotic Asian eyes, fluttered. “Is that a challenge? Again?”

“You’re bluffing this time. Playing off that e, using all seven fricking letters. And you hit a double word score? I call bullshit.”

“Big, bad dictionary’s right there. Challenge me. Lose a turn.”

He actually pushed up, paced around a little, and distracted Lana out of her worried, angry mood enough to make her laugh. “How many challenges have you lost?” Lana asked him.

“Three, but … Hell. You’re bullshitting, I just know it. I’m tossing down the glove.”

“And you lose again.” Kim picked up the dictionary, flipped through. “Treenail—one of its four spellings. A wooden peg, pin, or dowel used to—”

She broke off, unoffended, even smug, when Poe yanked the dictionary out of her hand. “Son of a bitch!”

When he flopped down again, Kim took seven letters out of the bag, lined them up, rubbed her hands together. “Now, let’s see.”

The game stopped as the door to the mudroom opened, closed again. Poe straightened in his seat, and his sulky face went blank and hard.

Eric came in, his hand holding Allegra’s.

“Chill,” he said when he saw Poe’s face. “Seriously,” he added when Poe got slowly to his feet. “I was a dick. A total dick. I’m sorry. Lana, especially to you, but all-around sorry. No excuses. I was a dick and, if it helps any, I feel like a dick.”

“He really is sorry, and so am I. It’s partly my fault.”

“It’s not.” Eric let go of Allegra’s hand to put his arm around her.

“It is. I’ve been complaining about being bored, feeling closed-in. Just being all-around bitchy. I pushed Eric into a mood, and he took it out on you. And he … he only took some of the food for me, to cheer me up. We both knew it was stupid and wrong. We won’t do it again.”

“You can cut my portions back until it evens out.”

“Mine, too.”

“No.” Eric leaned over to kiss Allegra’s hair. “I took the food, I turned up the heat.”

“I said I was cold. I…” She heaved out a breath. “I whined about it.”

“I turned it up.”

“Let’s put it away.” Lana heard the cool briskness in her voice, but couldn’t warm it. They’d behaved like selfish children sneaking cookies from a jar.

As the tone hit home, Eric hunched his shoulders. “I get it’ll take more than words, but it’s what I’ve got to start. Where’s Shaun? I want to apologize to him, too.”

“He’s upstairs.” Rather than look up, Kim kept shifting her tiles on the holder. “He was feeling pretty low. He took the dog and went upstairs.”

“Okay, I’ll wait till he’s ready. Ah, Max and Eddie?”

“They went for supplies, and to try to bring up propane.” There it was again, Lana thought. That tone. Annoyed parent to idiot child.

In a show of self-disgust, Eric rubbed his hands over his face. “Damn it. I should’ve gone with them, I should’ve helped out. Add that to the list of screwups. You’re worried. I can see it. I can hike down, make sure they’re okay.”

“Eric, it’s miles,” Allegra began.

“Only a little more than five,” Poe said easily. “According to Shaun.”

“I’ll hike down. Maybe they need a hand.”

“No. They haven’t been gone that long.” Lana added a glug of wine to the stockpot. “We’ll think about that if they’re not back in another hour.”

“Give me something,” Eric insisted. “Actions speak louder.”

“You’re on bringing in firewood today,” Lana reminded him, “and feeding the fires.”

“Right. I’m on it. And I’ll take kitchen cleanup tonight, whoever’s turn it is.”

He went back into the mudroom. Allegra bit her lip, then moved over to Lana as the outside door opened and closed.

“Honestly, Eric feels terrible. We both do.”

“You should. If Max and Eddie don’t find supplies, I have to cut portions, and even then we only have enough for a week at most.”

“I wish we could take it back. We can’t. Can I help you?”

“No. Thanks,” she added.

“Is there anything…”

Lana turned from the stove, looked Allegra in the eyes. “You can go up, bring down whatever you and Eric stashed in your bedroom.”

“Of course.” Visibly drooping, she went out.

“I know I was harsh, but—”

“I’d have been harsher,” Kim interrupted. “I know we’re all finding ways to get through. You cook, Poe pumps iron. I kick Poe’s sorry ass at Scrabble.”