Page 11 of Making Haven
I give him a grateful smile when he looks my way. “I would really appreciate that.”
“No worries. I can’t imagine having to go through stuff when I actually knew the people.” He bites his bottom lip, looking around. “When I break into houses, I like to look at the pictures. I like to make up stories about what their lives were before all this happened.”
I cross my arms, sitting down on the arm of the couch. I ignore the little voice in the back of my head telling me how Elanora would have hated me doing this. “What about these people,” I say softly, “what would you imagine for them?”
“It’s not weird? If I say?”
“Not at all. I want to hear.”
Devin steps over to the mantle, looking through all the pictures carefully. “This might be mean but this woman is so obviously a Karen,” he says with a snort. “I bet she complains every single time she goes out to dinner about the quality of the meal in order to get it for free. Her husband just ducks and lets it happen because he’s a total pushover for her. Thankfully, her kids realized this super fast and are all incredibly lovely and often over tip because of her. The grandkids all love coming here because they’re spoiled rotten.”
I tilt my head slightly, unable to keep myself from smiling. “You’re good at this.”
“Am I?”
I nod. “You got her down to a T. She would hate the idea of us walking through the house with our shoes on,” I say with an amused noise.
“She’s not the only one,” he says, shaking his head. “No wonder you fit into this stuffy neighborhood so well.”
Just when I thought he was going to start being kind. I really should have known better. Every time the two of us find some common ground, Devin somehow pushes me away with some asshole comment. It’s so frustrating. I haven’t done a damn thing to deserve such hostility. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You had a nice cushy life here before the world went to shit. Too bad you couldn’t buy your way into survival.”
I should rise to the bait but holy shit, if he’s really ready to pick a fight apparently I’m ready to stand up to him. He’s not the only one who can put up walls and be a dick.
“What makes you think I can’t? Why do you think I have a garden and chickens? The living will trade anything for what I’ve got.”
Devin’s lip curls as he gives me a disgusted look. If I had a heart, it would be beating overtime. I hate that he’s given me that look. I hate the way he’s judging me without even knowing me. “Anything? Yeah, there’s the catch. I fucking knew it.”
“You don’t know a damn thing, Devin. You just keep making assumptions about me based on your past and every fucking time you’ve been wrong.”
There’s a long pause before Devin finally looks away, shaking his head. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see about that.” He quickly adds, “not that it matters anyway. I’ll be out of here soon enough.”
Instead of answering, I just huff and make my way further into the house. There’s a storage closet in the kitchen that I duck into, finding some basic cleaning supplies. This place is clean but for a layer of dust but this will keep my hands busy as Devin works on putting all the pictures into a box.
The only time I’ve come into these houses is to pull out all the perishable things from the fridge so the place wouldn’t smelllike rot. Everything else has remained untouched. I wonder if Devin will be able to fit into some of these clothes left behind. Hopefully at the very least, he’ll be able to feel safe as he heals and get enough supplies to continue surviving when he leaves.
Jesus, I shouldn’t even care but even despite his prickly words and asshole nature, I want him to have a safe space to heal in.
When I go back into the living area, my emotions are more settled. If I look at Devin like a feral cat, I can almost understand him. He’s so sure that everyone he meets is trying to cage him or hurt him. I’ve gotta approach him with caution so as not to spook him.
I don’t know why I’m even bothering. If I was smart, I would just grit my teeth and get through the next few weeks with as little interaction with this man as possible. It’s clear he doesn’t like me and I’m not sure anything I do is going to change that. So why even try?
Oh right. He’s the only person I’ve spoken with in months and so far he hasn’t tried to kill me. And I’m lonely. So fucking lonely. Even Devin’s barbed words are better than nothing.
I really shouldn’t be getting my hopes up, but part of me wonders if I could win him over. Just maybe he’ll want to stay longer? Just maybe the idea of having a real neighbor fills me with such hope that it threatens to choke me.
Fucking hell, how did I get myself into this?
“Hey,” I say softly, announcing my presence, “I found some cleaning supplies. Thankfully, this place doesn’t have much to fix up. The fireplace should be good to use as well.”
“That’s good. I’m almost done with these. Gonna go find the rest real quick and then come back.”
I hum, letting him know I heard him. I find my eyes lingering on his back as he goes, watching the way his shoulders flex as he walks, leaning on his crutch. I quickly snap myself out of staring before I’m caught. I’m sure Devin would never let melive it down if he caught me staring at his ass. He’d assume I’m drooling over the thought of having him as a snack.
Wanting to make myself useful and give Devin some space as he looks around, I decide to get something for Devin to burn in the fireplace. Heading outside, I quickly grab a stack of wood, bringing it inside and setting it beside the fireplace. Everything outside is calm and quiet but for the sounds of zombies moving. They’re a good distance away and I have no doubt they’ll be in the killing locations tomorrow night when I head out to purge them.
As much as I hate them, their mindless movement is almost peaceful after a while. Like the sound of static in the background.
