Exposed (11 page)

June peeked up to see Frank wilt, and he looked away. Over on the couch, Meg’s eyebrows crawled upward. But June didn’t care. She hurt all over. She wasn’t going to let them make her use her power again.

“I’ll go,” Cora offered.

June was thankful for the distraction. She nearly sighed in relief, but her lungs pinched and rasped uncomfortably when she did, like the winter she’d had croup as a child. Except this wasn’t an illness—this was from the power inside of her. June shivered. She couldn’t deny the thrill she felt using her power. The more she did, the more control she gained. Yet it still didn’t feel quite like it
was
a part of her. It still felt an invader. 

But no. This was her now. And she needed to take control of it, be its master. It was the one thing in her life she
could
master. And only when she was its master could she take control of those unbidden thoughts she’d had in the bank.

Cora led the group outside, and June followed. Ivan, she noticed, stayed close.

She couldn’t keep herself from sneaking glances at Ivan. June was starting to understand that his quickness to snap at others came from a fierce desire to do what was right. He didn’t play the game, and that was such a novel idea to June. Yet why couldn’t she stop herself from shouting at him every time they met? It was like he stripped her bare of any artifice and she couldn’t
help
but be herself—no fake smiles, no choosing other’s happiness over her own.

And he was standing up for her. With those sharp blue eyes faced away from her, June took Ivan in. His pants looked old, but his shirt older. She flicked her eyes to his bottom and away, more heat prickling her cheeks. The shirt was rolled up his arms, exposing lean muscles, tan skin. He wasn’t the sort of man she usually found herself looking at. But that smile, the way it’d shone on his face that night under the pines. There was something so … so intimate about it that made her want to reach up and touch his lips. It was a smile she felt sure he didn’t share with many people. Yet he’d shared it with her.

When they got outside, June noticed the inky blue sky was just beginning to gray with morning. June yawned with heavy exhaustion—she hadn’t realized it’d gotten so late. Or so early, rather.

Cora led them back through the field of weeds and under the hole in the fence to the very edge of the river. Here, south of town, the Breakneck River earned its name. It tumbled and crashed over boulders and swirled into frothy eddies that could trap a foolish person and drag them under. Cora stopped them on the ledge that cantilevered out over the most dangerous section of rapids, a killer called Miner’s Revenge. An old rope bridge still dangled over Miner’s Revenge, linking the valley’s farmland east of the river, but the bridge was decayed and limp, always slick with river spray.

Cora stood confidently at the edge of the rock, flicked her hands with ease, and a huge jet of water erupted into the air. Everyone but Clayton and June jumped back.

“Everyone’s powers are so neat,” Frank whined behind June.

June didn’t care to correct Frank. Usually she’d reassure him, tell him what he wanted to hear … but not now. Frank always had a smile for customers at the soda fountain, always lit up at the chance to make people laugh. But there was an eagerness in him that repulsed June. In that moment, she feared people saw her as they regarded Frank—too keen to please.

“Junie, did you hear me?” Frank said.

June glanced over her shoulder at him and hurried away to join the others, leaving Frank with only Ivan to mend his fractured ego. June huffed a short laugh. His ego would likely remain bruised with only Ivan there.

“We need to keep an eye out for others like us,” Cora said to the group. Around her, the first birds were waking. “Finding others is the only way to answer some of the bigger questions.”

“Like why we’re like this,” Meg said quietly. Will slipped his arm around her waist, and she dropped her head to his shoulder.

“Wait,” June said. It seemed like everyone was ready to leave, but they’d not seen Ivan’s power yet. She turned to him. “You need to go.”

Ivan’s shoulders sagged, but only a little, and June doubted anyone else noticed. His lips pulled down in a frown and he swallowed. Ivan’s eyes darted up to June’s for a moment, and June saw naked fear there. But then his blue eyes clouded over again, and Ivan scowled.

“Fine,” he growled, almost to himself. He worked his jaw, lips pressed together, and forehead furrowed. Then he stooped low, pressing one knee into the rocky ground. He spread his arms through the rangy weeds and sighed deeply.

All around them, the weeds bloomed. A rainbow of colors rippled through the field with Ivan at the center. The entire field of dry weeds grew verdant and alive, flowers unfurling everywhere June looked. Ivan stood, the flowers still in full bloom around him.

June gasped, her heart nearly breaking with the beauty of it all. But more than that—so much more than that—her chest tightened at the way his eyes grew calm, the way his lips relaxed into nearly a smile. Like his body was also sighing in relief. Such beauty around him, such life. It was the opposite of his biting anger and accusations. Somehow, this seemed like the real Ivan. An Ivan stripped of all the toughness he carried.

This
was the man who stood up for her in the mine.
This
was the man who gave her a flower when she was least expecting. She had snapped at him for refusing to see the goodness in people, but maybe she wasn’t looking hard enough either. 

A feeling overtook her, a need. She needed another chance with him, a chance to show him kindness instead of telling him how to act. 

June looked across the field of flowers and felt a smile pull at her lips. 

“Ivan, you’re amazing,” she breathed.

CHAPTER TEN

Ivan

Ivan stretched his legs into long strides, leaving the group behind. He could still hear their chatter, but he wasn’t about to make plans to get a drink or catch a movie. 

Frank’s words played back to him, the casual way he’d said that people suspected Ivan’s family of actually
attacking
the town. Jesus Christ, Jan Clarkson had died during the sickness. How could Frank be so flippant about it? 

No. Ivan wasn’t going to stick around any longer than he needed. He wasn’t one of them—not really—and didn’t want to be.

Or, that’s what he told himself until he heard June’s laughter peal through the air. Ivan kicked at a rock, sending it skittering down the rutted dirt road.

June. He’d thought he’d seen a glimmer of something more back there in the mine. Strength when she’d said no to Frank. A whisper of understanding between them when their eyes had met. But then she’d practically run away from him outside, leaving him with Frank.

“Ivan!”

The sound of his name on her tongue licked against his back. Ivan walked faster.

“Ivan, wait!” 

He clenched his fists and stared straight ahead, even as June ran up beside him.

“That was something,” she said.

“Did you need something? You heard your boyfriend earlier, everyone thinks I’m the Soviet bastard behind the attack.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” June said quickly.

“Seems like it, the way you flirt with him. You and Flashlight Fingers make a good pair.”

The words were sharp and he smarted to see the way June faltered. Jesus, why was he being so mean? Just because she didn’t thank him for standing up for her and throw herself into his arms? 

But then she cast her gaze behind them, and Ivan’s anger flared hot. He strode away, and the first few steps felt righteous. 

Yet June was there again, tenacious. “You made that flower, didn’t you.” When Ivan didn’t respond, she barreled on. “The yellow flower you gave me during the storm. It didn’t wilt. I put it in a vase, and it still looks exactly the same.” 

Ivan nodded, the motion small and stuttering. 

“I actually …,” June stopped, sighed, started again. “My mother is throwing this Fourth of July party in our back garden and, well, we need a garden for that.”

Why was she telling him all this? Ivan just stared for a second, then started walking again. June hurried to keep up.

“So I thought I could help with it. I mean, try to plant some, um, plants.”

“Annuals are easy enough,” Ivan said. He glanced down at June to see her frowning.

“Those are the ones that ….”

“Don’t come back every year.”

“See? I could really use help. And you have this power, so ….”

Ivan’s eyebrows furrowed together and his jaw tightened. So that explained why she was acting like this. She wanted his help. She wanted a gardener. 

“I should have known when you came running over here batting your eyelashes that you wanted something from me.”

Ivan expected her to melt back into the gloaming and leave him be. And he almost thought she would. June stopped in her tracks, stunned, but then she quickly caught back up, her hair bouncing with the effort. 

“I did
not
bat my eyelashes at you. But yes, I need help. Is it so hard to do something nice for a friend?”

Ivan laughed harshly. “We’re not friends.”

June stomped up onto the arched bridge spanning the river and spun around. Anger etched her features, made her eyes sharp. “Stop, Ivan. Just stop. You are part of this, this whole thing!” 

June threw her arms wide then snapped one arm forward and poked Ivan in the chest. He was startled at how much it hurt. “You are part of us, whether you want to be or not.”

“I’m not any part of your little group. I’m just the Commie everyone suspects attacked the town,” he let his Russian accent drip thick from his words. “I’ll just head home to my comrades and drink vodka and plan more attacks.” 

June rolled her eyes. “Stop feeling so sorry for yourself. Frank said something dumb back there, but if you really think I believe you’d hurt us ….”

“This was such a mistake,” Ivan hissed, almost to himself. “Don’t pretend you know anything about me.” 

He stalked past June, would have kept walking, but her fingers wrapped around his arm and pulled him back.

“So tell me,” June demanded. “I know you’re not as stony as you pretend to be.”

“I pretend nothing.” He glanced down at June’s fingers where they wrapped around his arm. He could feel the heat of her through his thin shirt, and he hated the way that touch sent pulsing tendrils of electricity through him. 

Anger made her eyes flash. It made pinpoints of heat color her cheeks and her lips open in ragged breaths. He felt himself harden just at the sight of her and had to turn away.

June’s arm went limp, and she dropped her hand from where it still clung to him. Ivan looked out over the river, his hands tight on the metal railing. The air above the river snapped with cold, even as the first fingers of morning sun reached through the mountain passes.

“I’ve seen your power, Ivan,” June said quietly. “I don’t believe you could create such beauty if it wasn’t already there inside of you.” 

She was standing next to him, staring out over the water. The birds grew louder in the silence as they stood side by side and watched the water rush below. 

“Why do we do this?” June said, quieter now. “I ran after you to say thank you for standing up for me back there, to try to be nice. But we always end up fighting. I hate that. I’m not a mean person, Ivan. I don’t ….”

“I would never think you’re mean,” Ivan said, talking over her. “I’d say you’re too nice, actually.” His voice rumbled out of his chest and he had to grip the railing to stop himself from catching up her hands between his own.

He slid his gaze down to her and found June looking up at him with a smile. 

“So can I say it now? Thank you, Ivan. I was exhausted and in pain, and if you hadn’t stopped them from making me use my power again … just, thank you.”

They fell into silence, only the roar of the river breaking the hush. Ivan tried to make himself walk away—shouted at his body to just leave—but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

June was close. So close. 

She was close enough that Ivan could imagine her entire body nestled close to his—her shoulder fitting snugly under his arm and the curve of her waist sliding against his hip. Ivan tried to drive June from his thoughts, but she was stubborn. A thorn that worked away at him until he couldn’t resist. Ivan blamed it on his exhaustion. 

But even as he thought it, he knew—deep down—it was a lie. He had told himself it was just physical, but he was afraid it was more than that. 

He wanted June. Wanted her in a way he’d never imagined possible. And in that moment he didn’t care if she was like all the rest of them. He just wanted to feel her body pressed against his and forget everything. Forget the suspicion. Forget the rotting crops behind the greenhouses. Forget the fear he saw in peoples’ eyes—fear that could quickly turn to danger for his family.

A breeze pulled a lock of June’s hair loose. The scent of honeysuckle curled under Ivan’s nose, teasing him. Honeysuckle and something deeper, wilder, a tang of sea salt and lightning storms. Ivan stared out over the river, but he wasn’t seeing it. Not really. His mind filled with June. She bloomed within him. 

June’s fingers spread wide along the railing, and Ivan inched his hand closer. Close enough that barely a breeze could slip between their skin. So close he could feel the heat from her pinky. Heat against the side of his hand and cold iron under his palm. The hot and cold pricked against his skin and sent ripples up his arm.

Just a bit closer, and his skin skimmed hers. June didn’t look at Ivan, didn’t acknowledge the spot where their fingers touched. She stared out over the river and Ivan froze, their skin warming together. His heart thundered against his chest, his fingers alive with so much energy that demanded he touch her more. To pull her body to his and press into her, push his hardness against her soft skin and forget the world existed.