Page 34 of Protected

I don’t make a sound or twist my features or sniffle or anything, but Deck still senses my mood. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me to lean against his big body. I huddle against his side, comforted.

I should know better than to fall asleep, but I do anyway. When I wake up, it’s pitch-dark and I’m aware of nothing but the scent and heat of Deck’s body. My head is on his lap. His fingers are idly stroking my head and down my ponytail.

“Sorry,” I say when I’m conscious enough to realize what happened. “I’m supposed to be keeping guard with you.”

I start to sit up, but he puts a hand on my head to stop me. I don’t resist because I’m exhausted, and it feels weirdly good to lie like this.

Like he’s protecting me.

It’s been such a long time since I’ve felt that way.

It’s far too dark to see his face, so I find one of his hands and bring it down so I can feel any signs he makes with his fingers.

“Has it been quiet the whole time?” I ask softly.

He gesturesyes.

“If you need to sleep, I can stay awake for a while and keep guard.”

No.

“It’s really okay. I don’t deserve special treatment.”

Yes. You do.

I smile, my chest aching intensely. I squeeze his hand.

After a minute, he gently retrieves it and strokes my hair again.

It’s not long until I fall back to sleep.

12

I wakeup when Deck starts moving.

Even half-asleep, I can tell he’s trying to gently extricate himself from beneath my head without disturbing me, so I mumble, “I’m awake,” as I attempt to pry open my eyelids.

He starts positioning me so I’m lying back down with my head on the sleeping bag we found instead of his lap, but I resist his hands. Eventually he gives up and lets me sit.

It’s still dark in the building, but Deck has turned on a flashlight so I can see the darker shadows of the fallen shelves and his face dimly lit when I turn toward him.

He scowls and signs,Sleepas he points back toward the floor.

“I’m awake now,” I tell him. “I can’t just go back to sleep because you order me to.”

I sound crabbier than I intend, so I give him a quick look from under my lashes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap.”

He shrugs off my apology, clearly unfazed.

“Is it morning yet?” I ask, squinting toward the dark entrance as if that might give me a clue about the time of day.

I glance back to see his response.Almost.

By the time we’ve gotten up, organized ourselves, and walked outside, there’s some faint light from the rising sun. We wander until we find a small stream with enough water to do a half-assed morning washup.

We have no food left, but we spend thirty minutes searching the wreckage of the drugstore until we find some baked beans in a half-crushed can that’s still sealed. Deck pries it open, and we eat the beans at room temperature.

It’s better than nothing.

---