Page 24 of If They Knew

“I know, but I don’t want you worrying about me. I’m just trying to figure things out,” she answers, a bit more calmly now that she has all the books pushed to the side and neatly stacked.

“I’m always going to worry about you. I love you. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

She doesn’t respond right away. She looks away, her gaze landing back on the stack of books, then back at me. I can’t help but notice the sudden sadness in her eyes.

“I love you too,” she says softly as she pulls me in, nestling her head into the crook of my neck. We stand holding each other for a few seconds until she lifts her head and pulls my chin so we are facing each other. Slowly, she leans in and gives me a kiss. Her lips are soft when they touch mine. I feel my body relax at her touch. The mood is broken by a loud growl from my stomach, and neither of us can help but laugh hysterically.

“How about we go up and grab breakfast? I’m starving.”

“Yeah. That sounds good,” she says, setting the books down on a nearby shelf. I take her hand in mine, and we walk out.

After exiting the library, we climb the stairs, waving to people passing by whom we've gotten to know over the past few months. Everyone on the ship has now been assigned a job—making the ship a community. Every morning at sunrise, the hustle and bustle of the day begins. When Julie and I enter the buffet line for breakfast, we are instantly recognized. People start saying hello and waving as we walk by.

“Good morning, want to cut the line?” a voice calls out, but I'm not sure who said it, so I just respond in the general direction.

“No, no, we’re fine waiting in the back of the line just like everyone else does.”

“Good morning,” John says as he approaches. His voice instantly grates on my nerves, and I can't help but regret putting him in charge months ago. At the time, we had no idea John was a power-hungry lunatic. Since taking over, he's been slowly undermining everything Logan and I have said and done.

Although, I have my suspicions that Logan and John are closer than they let on. On more than one occasion I’ve seen Logan and John whispering when no one else is around, and every time I’ve approached them, they act like they are discussing food or supplies in the kitchen. I never made a big deal out of it and let it go until a few weeks ago, when Logan and I had to meet with John after people complained that he was withholding food rations because someone said something that he didn’t like. Logan acted like I was over reacting, and simply told John to not let it happen again. Over the past couple of months, all of us have learned that John wears his emotions on his sleeve and has a short temper. Everyone tiptoes around him, walking on eggshells, trying not to irritate him. It’s frustrating.

I let out a breath, and Julie squeezes my hand. Julie knows just how much John has gotten under my skin, as I’ve kept her in the loop on the meetings Logan and I have had.

“Good morning, John,” I say, a bit too cheerfully. Julie just stands next to me, and I catch a small smirk spreading across her face at my theatrics. “Looks like things are running smoothly here today,” I add, glancing around at the full tables.

“Yeah, everything is going great,” he says. “Thanks to me.”

It takes everything in me not to say anything. Julie changes the subject when she sees my frustration.

“What’s on the menu today? Eggs and bacon, French toast?” she asks sarcastically with a grin, trying to make a joke.

“You wish, sweetheart! You have no idea what I'd do for eggs and bacon. My mouth is watering just thinking about it,” John answers.

“Yeah, same,” I add, licking my lips without meaning to.

“Well, it looks like today we’re having the same thing we've had every day before: oatmeal. Grab a packet of oatmeal and hot water from outside the fire pit, same as always,” John says, walking away. Julie and I follow him. A few passengers are finished eating, and as we walk by, Julie and I pick up the empty dishes. John doesn't bother helping, like it's beneath him as he walks to the serving station. Fucking conceited asshole.

“Speaking of oatmeal packets, how’s the inventory?” I ask quietly and set the dishes down in an empty dish tub.

“We’re almost out. Honestly, I’m not sure what we’ll give these people when it runs out. We’re going to have to start cutting meal portions soon,” John says, scanning the room.

“Okay, we’ll figure something out. But let’s keep this under wraps for now. Who else knows about the situation?”

“No one other than Sara and Chris, and that’s only because they’re in charge of inventory,” John says. Good, the last thing I need right now is Logan to be up my ass, complaining about another issue I’ll need to fix.

“But Logan’s going to figure it out. Look around. These people are already eating only two meals a day. Pretty soon, people are going to start getting sick from not having enough food,” he adds.

“I’ll talk to Logan. In the meantime, keep doing what you're doing. As for the people's health, I’ll talk to Mary and ask what she thinks we should do.”

At the edge of the room, a scuffle erupts as two men grab a young woman, pushing her to the ground and demanding she empty her pockets. Is that Brent?

“What's going on?” Julie asks as the commotion and yelling grow louder with each passing second.

“I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out,” I say, running over.

“Get off her now!” I demand, grabbing the shirt of one of the two men pinning her. It is Brent. The woman slowly gets up and stands silently, her hands hidden in her pockets.

“What’s going on here?” I ask the men sternly. Brent stares at me, unmoving. I can't quite read his expression; it's almost like he is thinking something directed to me, but won't say it.