Page 49 of Say You'll Stay

She cracks a half-smile at his mention of the whole reason for this supply run.

They’re wrapped up in each other like it’s an everyday thing. Her hands braced on his chest and his carefully planted at her waist in a pose that feels intimate. All those moments he’s wanted to kiss her come flooding back full force, gatheredand fed by his daydreams in that temporary prison, primed to overflow.

She needs to know what’s in his heart, even if he can’t say it yet.

Her eyes go wide in realization when he leans forward, her body rising up on her tiptoes to help him along. There’s such eager anticipation all over that beautiful face…and then Lucy screams from the house and they snap apart.

The baby crying may as well be a bucket of ice water over them both.

“Tell me everything that happened,” she says, looping her arm through his after they share an awkward moment of regretful silence. “I barely left the window all day. The trees were blurring together.”

“Got stuck in an attic while another group slept in the same house,” he tells her, as they make their way inside. “Felt like a fucking lifetime in there. Couldn’t risk trying to escape. There’s no way I’d have been able to fight them all off.”

The first thing he sees is Lucy in her bassinet and he beelines for her, not even pausing to think before scooping her up. “Got you some diapers. Have you been quiet today? Feeling better?”

He’s too affectionate. Smothering this baby like they’re related when they’re not, but she makes a little activation noise like she’s enjoying the attention.

“She’s been good. A lot better than before. We’re both so glad you’re back safe. Are you hungry? I bet you didn’t eat this whole time.”

“Starving.” His stomach growls in commiseration as he puts Lucy back in her cradle and carries it into the kitchen, setting it by the table before they dig into an overdue meal.

Maybe Olivia didn’t eat much either because she’s just as ravenous. They down plates of canned ravioli and half a bag of chips, chasing it with nuts she found in a cabinet for dessert.

“I was so close to coming to look for you,” she admits.

“Glad you didn’t. Don’t want that bunch anywhere near the two of you.”

“That bad?”

“Worse. Fighting over supplies. Punching each other’s lights out. Fuckers are feral.”

“Do you think they’ll find us here?”

“I don’t know. Went the other way a couple of miles out, so I think we’re good for now, but gotta be careful. Work on setting up more traps, just in case. Should keep the candles off at night if we can. Don’t want the glow in the windows, even through the curtains.”

“Why is what’s left of this world overrun with people like them?” she says, sadly. “Is that all there is now?”

“No. You’re here. So is she.” He points to Lucy, who’s doing a good job of staring at her own hands like they were only recently attached. “Hey, is that new? Did she just start doing that?”

“You noticed.” Olivia beams at him. “She did it the first time while you were gone. It’s like she’s trying to figure out what they are. She’s done it with her feet, too.”

He notices everything the baby does, but he won’t say that out loud. It feels like a verbal admission of something he’s still struggling with.

“Don’t like that I missed it the first time.”

“There are plenty more firsts to come,” she replies softly.

If he has anything to say about it, he’ll try to be there for all of them, he thinks, unable to catch a yawn before it escapes.

“I didn’t sleep either. I couldn’t until you were home.” She picks up the bassinet, tilting her head toward the hall. “Let’s go to bed?”

Home. It’s not this place, it’s her. Them. He spent his life drifting before all this. Not beholden to anyone or anything, and that was how he liked it. Needed to be free or risk fighting the cage, but this doesn’t feel like being caught. It feels like being lucky.

They’ve shared this room and bed often since they got here. Him on one side and her on the other. Sometimes there’s a baby between them, sometimes a cat. Other nights he plasters himself to the edge for fear of invading her space while he sleeps, but tonight they gravitate closer in unison. She curls onto her side facing him and he does the same, tucking an arm under the pillow and fighting the urge to look away from her gaze.

Her fingers twitch on the bed sheets, inching closer.

He mimics her move until the side of his pinky brushes hers and even that feels like crossing the Grand Canyon.

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