Page 106 of Last Light

“I know. Don’t mean they had to up and shoot at us. Coulda hit you.” He’s scaled the hill now, and he finally moves his hand, letting me sit back up.

“Or they could’ve hit the dog.”

He snorts. “Right. Coulda hit the dog.” He’s almost smiling now.

I smile back although my heart is still racing. “I think we’re better off with just us.”

“Yep. Seems that way. We’ve done okay so far.”

“We’ve done better than okay.” I reach out to touch his arm. “We’ve done good.”

He slants me a warm look. “Yeah. We’ve done real good.”

***

WE CAMP AGAIN THATnight—we have no other choice—and I begin our third day on the road feeling stiff and sore and frustrated.

I recognize that part of my frustration is that I want to have sex. And it’s going on three days since we have.

It’s not just that I want the orgasms. Those are very nice, but I can live without them. I miss feeling close to Travis the way I do when we’re having sex. I miss having him look at me in that soft, hot way—the one that makes me feel like I’m special, that I’m his.

He’s still as good a traveling companion as I could ever hope for, but it’s not the same.

We feel like partners. That hasn’t changed.

But we don’t feel like a couple anymore.

And there’s no sense in lying to myself. I want to be a couple with him.

I want to beeverythingwith him.

I’m not silly enough to expect it will happen. Happily-ever-afters don’t exist in the world anymore. There’s still a good chance that one or both of us will die before we make it to Fort Knox.

And even if we do make it...

Travis is with me because I was dropped into his lap. He’d never have pickedmeif he’d had any sort of choice.

That reality closes in on me as the morning progresses, our travel just as slow and frustrating as before. I’m not in a good mood. I try not to grumble, but I don’t feel very cheerful or friendly.

Travis seems to know it. After a failed attempt to talk about our route, he keeps quiet, occasionally shooting me little looks.

At one point he gives me one too many questioning glances, and I snarl at him. “Stop peering. I’m fine. I’m just in a bad mood.”

He blinks. “Did I do somethin’?”

“No! Of course not. Aren’t I allowed to be in a bad mood just because?”

“Course you are. But you normally aren’t. Sure somethin’ didn’t cause it?”

For some reason his mild voice gets to me. I shake as emotion rises into my throat, my eyes.

I see his eyebrows drawing together in concern, and I quickly pull myself together. “It’s just... everything,” I manage to say.

His mouth relaxes. “Okay. I get it.”

“I’ll be fine in a little while. Or maybe tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods and starts driving again. “But if you’re not feelin’ better tomorrow, then we’re gonna have this conversation again.”

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