Page 12 of Say You'll Stay

That’s not true, she’s far from smart. She suppresses her objections at his compliment, just like when he said she looked nice in this new shirt. “She seems comfortable. If you’re ready to keep moving, I’m good to go.”

“It’s alright, just relax for a while. Only been an hour.”

“I’m fine.” She is defensive when she shouldn’t be. He’s trying to do her a kindness, and she’s shitting all over his effort. Been told before that she’s impossible to please and apparently that’s true.

“I’m not. Could do with resting up a bit myself.”

He’s a terrible liar, unpracticed and obvious, but sincere enough. Finally, she mimics his pose across the booth. Her body protests, cramping as she sits and her poorly hidden gasp prompts his expression to change into a silent question.

“It’s nothing. Normal. Hurts for a while after, that’s all.”

“Day three of anything that hurts is always the worst,” he replies. “Don’t mean that I know what you’re feeling, just that every time I’ve been injured, the third day is a pile of shit.”

“No, you’re right, and having a baby is absolutely like being injured. Not as bad as the third day of broken ribs, though.”

He sucks some air between his teeth in sympathy. “Broken ribs make you see stars for a long time. Takes forever to heal. Third day of a burn is pretty rough, too.”

“Oh god, when it starts throbbing so hard you can’t move and it still feels like your skin is cooking?”

“Yep. That’ll make you lose your mind. Can’t get away fromit. The creams are useless.”

She mentally rifles through every cigarette that found her skin over the years. The car lighter pushed to the bottom of her foot, when Jason punished her for attracting a herd with the sound of her morning sickness, is almost healed by now, but the scent of her flesh burning is hard to forget.

She knows Cole likely saw that for himself when she was passed out barefoot in the subway, but he doesn’t bring it up and she’s glad for that. “That one moves to the top spot, after all. Don’t get me wrong, though, squeezing a watermelon through an opening the size of a small lemon is traumatizing, but at least when it’s over, it’s over. Mostly…sort of.”

No use sugarcoating things now after he’s already seen her at her worst and, to his credit, he only looks mildly disturbed by that description.

They’re sharing past injuries without offering details on how they were acquired in a way only those who’ve known abuse can. Matter of fact and lacking any excess emotion. Another injury, another day, no big deal. That’s how she kept going for the entirety of her marriage, and it’s a hard habit to break. Someone must have hurt him too and they’re connecting on a level she wishes they weren’t.

Olivia wants to punish whoever made it possible for him to remember what a burn feels like on day three, but she hadn’t been able to conjure up the same outrage for herself over the last decade.

Her fingers trace the cluster of bruises ringing her wrist and crawling up her forearm. “At least I won’t have to worry about this again. That’s something.”

“That’s a lot,” he agrees. “You hungry?”

“Always. What else did you find?”

He moves across the room to grab a bag of chips and slides it onto the table before taking up his spot again.

She rips into a small bag of cheddar and sour cream, ravenous despite inhaling half a bottle of Nutella an hour ago. Must look pretty awful if he’s always trying to feed her and the urge to explain that is overwhelming.

“I think he might’ve been trying to starve me so I’d miscarry.” She fills the silence with an answer to a question he hasn’t asked. “He didn’t want the baby. Tried to beat her out of me at first, but she’s a survivor.”

She threw a sad story on the table between them without warning and he struggles for a reply. A flicker of anger on her behalf ghosts across his face and those impressive biceps twitch as he runs a hand through his hair. Flexing muscles catch a glint of sunlight shining through the dirty diner window, and a barely there rumble under his breath vibrates his Adam’s apple.

All at once, Olivia knows exactly why she’s been so preoccupied with her appearance today.

She’s attracted to him.

It has to be some sort of biological throwback from when humans were cave dwellers haunting her genes at the moment, telling her to find a father for this baby in case she doesn’t make it herself. Cole is more than acceptable.

He’d be a good provider.

He is strong and skilled at survival.

He’s been kind to them.

Her primal self has latched onto these basic qualities that her last option didn’t have. That’s all there is to it, she thinks. She couldn’t possibly be attracted to anyone for reasons that don’t include keeping herself and Lucy alive, only days post delivery,in a sudden apocalypse, and when she hasn’t felt anything of the sort in years. That would be ridiculous.

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