State of Pursuit by Summer Lane Page A

emotions, Vera. This is about doing the right thing and having the guts to follow through with it.” I hold my open palms up. “Either you’ve got it in you or you don’t. Honestly, I really hope that you
do
.”
    I turn away, not bothering to gauge her reaction. She stands there in silence, staring at the back of my head for a long while before walking away, slowly. I press my cheek against Katana’s neck and steady my emotions.
    I can do this. I can handle Vera. I can handle
anything
.
    Right?
    I take a deep breath, feeling another set of eyes on me. Uriah. His expression is pensive as he approaches. He stands a few feet away, silent. It’s not awkward, but it’s not comfortable, either.
    “Cassidy…?” he asks. “What did you
do
before the collapse?”
    I cock my head. What
is
this? Are people taking numbers to talk to me?
    “Why?” I say.
    “I’m just curious. You seem…almost prepped for this lifestyle.”
    “I was living in Los Angeles,” I reply.
    “So you’ll be going home for the first time when we reach the city.”
    I swallow. I hadn’t thought of it like that, but yes. I’ll be seeing the ravaged remains of my former hometown for the first time. I’m not sure that it’s going to do anything to boost my confidence. From what I’ve heard, Los Angeles is little more than an oversized garbage dump these days.
    Not really positive reinforcement.
    “What kind of a job did you have?” Uriah presses.
    I scratch Katana behind the ears. And then I decide not to answer Uriah. Call me crazy, but I’d rather nobodybut Chris Young know the details of my past life. My
normal
life. I don’t want to burst anyone’s illusion that I’m a hardcore freedom fighter by letting the cat out of the bag:
Yes, sorry folks. But Cassidy Hart was an unemployed college dropout before the EMP hit, not a police officer or a soldier. My worst worries were awkward family reunions and failed cell signals. Does that surprise you?
    It’s like they say. Leaving an element of mystery is sometimes more effective than spilling your guts everywhere you go. Just saying.
    Uriah realizes that I’m not going to answer his question, and instead of pressuring me, he drops the subject. He leans close to my face and whispers,
    “Keeping secrets? I can keep them, too.”
    He presses a soft, quick kiss to my cheek. It happens in a second, just quick enough for everyone else to miss it. I shove him backwards, shocked. He looks taken aback by my reaction. My knife flashes off my belt and into my hand.
    “Don’t
ever
do that again,” I warn quietly, the blade glinting in the moonlight.
    Uriah looks shocked by my reaction – and I’m a little bit surprised, too.
    My instinct to fight – to defend when threatened – is stronger than it ever was. It surprises me how easily it becomes visible when I am attacked.
    “Uh…I’m…sorry…” Uriah mutters, flushed. He slowly backs away, retreating into the shadows of the night, taking refuge on the other side of Mach.
    I think,
What does he want from me?
    Yet there’s a small part of me that thinks Uriah doesn’t want anything. That perhaps he really
does
genuinely care about me. And for some reason, that is scarier than thinking that he’s trying to manipulate my emotions.
    I love Chris. I will always love Chris. That will never change.
    Period.
    I can feel the intensity of Uriah’s gaze on the back of my head. It’s practically drilling holes through my skull. I don’t like it. I move to the other side of Katana, casting a glance at Vera. She’s sulking as she checks her saddle, but in hindsight, our confrontation could have been a lot worse. In fact, compared to other conversations we’ve had, what happened could be considered almost civil.
    After we rest the horses, we mount up again and continue our journey. I send Uriah to the back of the group. My plan is to make him eat dust for a few hours.Maybe it will force him to think about the consequences of his stupid, rash