Page 139 of Last Light

We say goodbye to Mack and Anna on the edge of the woods, at the head of the dirt trail that leads to our little house. We’ve made plans to communicate, leaving notes in designated locations so we can start to become part of that network to help people.

When Mack and Anna’s pickup is out of sight, I drive us down the trail through the trees, Travis slouched in the passenger seat and the dog on a pile of towels at his feet.

I’m holding my breath when I make the turnoff up the mountain.

The woods are silent. There doesn’t seem to be anyone for miles around.

But there’s no way of knowing if that house will be as empty as we left it.

When I reach the top of the trail, the woods clear, exactly as I remember. And there’s the weird little house with the solar panels on top and the workshop out back.

It looks quiet. Untouched.

We get out, Travis pale and limping but holding his shotgun in position as I unlock the door.

There’s no one inside.

The dog yaps happily as he runs in and heads right to his little rug in front of the woodstove, scratching it a few times with his front paws to make sure it’s still in order.

I turn back to Travis and smile.

For the first time since I’ve left Meadows, it feels like I’m home.

***

TWO WEEKS LATER TRAVISis grumbling as I rub antiseptic salve on his wound.

It’s not really a wound anymore. The skin is mostly healed, leaving a raw, reddish slash. The stitches came out a few days ago. But the skin isn’t what I’m worried about. It’s how everything is healing inside.

There’s no way to know except for the pain Travis feels and his ability to use his shoulder.

He says it’s fine, but I know it still hurts him a lot. It’s going to be a long time before he’s back in his previous condition. He may never be able to use that shoulder the way he used to.

“See,” he mutters. “Told you it’s fine. It’s not gonna get infected.”

“It doesn’t look like it. But it was a gunshot. They don’t get better overnight.”

“Yeah, but it was just a .22 caliber. And it wasn’t a good shot. Didn’t go in very far. It’s really fine, Layne. I’m back to full form.”

“You’re still in pain. You can pretend you’re not, but I know you are. And I’m not going to let you overextend yourself just because you’re stubborn and macho.”

“Has nothin’ to do with bein’ macho. Has to do with the fact that we ain’t had sex in ages.”

I chuckle at that and stroke his bare chest, enjoying the texture of his skin, his nipples, his chest hair. He’s stretched out on the bed, wearing nothing but his underwear. He’s big and warm and sexy and scowling.

We found another small rug in the cellar and put it in our bedroom so the dog could sleep in here with us. He’s currently stretched out on his side and snoring loudly.

I’m wearing one of the house’s former occupant’s oversized shirts. I slide my hand down to Travis’s groin and massage him through his underwear. “I’ve been doing my best to take care of you.”

“I got no complaints about that.” He’s starting to get hard under my hand, and he rolls his hips into my touch. “But I love you. And some kind of miracle happened, and you love me back. And because of this damn gunshot, you won’t let me make love to you. It’s enough to make a man crazy.”

I lean over to kiss him, still caressing him through the fabric of his underwear. “It won’t be forever.”

“It feels like forever.”

“I don’t want you to do anything to hurt yourself more.”

“I know. But what if I just lie here and not move? You can get on top and do all the work.”

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