Page 46 of Say You'll Stay

“Are we making this a competition? Because I’m in.”

“What’s the prize if I win?”

There are so many directions she could take this. Her mind spins with innuendos and offerings to do naughty things, but she reins those in. No sense in throwing herself at him until he’s ready to flee into the wild of the apocalypse to get away.

“Whatever you want.” She tries to keep it light, but damn if there isn’t a hint of a flirt in her tone that she can’t control.

“Oh yeah? Does that mean if you win, then you get whatever you want, too?”

“Mhmm.”

“Gonna take all the granola bars? First dibs on the next real shower?” he jokes, completely oblivious.

Her heart sinks when he not only fails to take the bait she poorly laid out, but it seems to have flown miles above his head.

“Better hide those bars,” she covers.

He winces, nose wrinkling. “I think she had her morning crap. Have to go out and find more diapers soon.”

That’s an important subject she’s been wanting to avoid. “I know, but I don’t like it.”

“I’ll go quick and come right back. Won’t take more than a couple of hours.”

She’s desperate to avoid sending him alone and without a car. Anything could happen. There’s no guarantee he’ll make it back, but they’ve already run out and she’s used up every single piece of clothing found in the drawers of this house as makeshift cloth diapers.

Lucy is well on her way to having no barrier between her and the rest of the house if they don’t resolve the problem.

“If the rain lets up I can go tomorrow,” he continues. “Loot some of these houses around here. Gotta be someone who had a baby. Might get lucky and find a store.”

“No big box stores. Promise me, please.”

“I promise. Those are probably all empty, anyway. Little ones, mom-and-pop shops are the best bet.”

“I wish I could go with you. I hate asking you to go alone.”

“Needs to be done, so I’m doing it. Can’t have her taking little shits all over the house.”

Olivia huffs out an amused sound. “No, we can’t. We’re already cleaning up cat poops at every turn.”

He frowns. “That’s not her fault. There’s no litter box, but she’s getting used to shitting on a leash.”

Flower has perfected the art of peeing on a leash like a dog whenever they take her outside, but she adamantly avoids dropping a turd on the ground. Prefers the hardwood floor instead. When they were on the road, there was little choiceexcept to eliminate outside, but now, in the comforts of a house, the cat’s become confused.

Olivia smirks at his defense of the cat he didn’t want. “You were the one who said we shouldn’t keep her.”

He shrugs. “I say a lotta stuff. Don’t listen to me.”

As if on cue, the cat hops into the kitchen, pausing to stretch with a yawn, wobbling on three legs.

“Oh, hey,” Cole says. “We were just talking about you. She’s trying to put you outside to fend for yourself.”

Olivia gasps, “Stop! I said no such thing. Don’t fill her head with lies.”

“She says you shit too much. That you’re a pest.” He smirks, raising a teasing brow from across the table.

She rolls her eyes. “On that note, gimme the baby so I can change her. You and your favorite cat can trash-talk me while I’m gone.”

He snorts, handing her Lucy.

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