Page 22 of Making Haven
Devin wanted to fuck to feel alive, but me? I needed this vulnerability, I needed to open myself up to him and let him truly see me to feel like I’m living.
It’s intoxicating. I’m drunk off of it, off of him.
Eventually, Devin’s kisses slow. I tighten my hand, only just now realizing he’s holding it, our fingers laced together. My stomach swoops but this time for an entirely different reason. The lust is gone, being replaced by a different type of warmth.
My free hand slides up Devin’s spine, pushing him down until he’s burying his face against my throat. Carefully, he pulls his hips back, wincing as he slides free from my body. We hold each other for so long the storm passes and the rain outside stops falling.
I clear my throat and I feel Devin pull a face. I can imagine his brows wrinkling and his frown deepening. “I should, you know, head back to my place now that the rain has stopped,” I whisper, trying to believe my words. I want to stay, but that’s a recipe for disaster, isn’t it?
Best not to ruin a good thing.
“You don’t have to go,” Devin says right away, tightening his hold on my hand. “Stay the night. Or the day. Whatever.”
I want to stay so fucking badly despite knowing how much Ishouldn’t. It would be so much smarter to tell him good night and head back to my place. I should push him away and put some distance between us. I should cut this off before I can grow too attached.
If I’m being honest, it’s too late for that.
“Okay,” I breathe out, wrapping my free arm around his back and holding him tight, probably borderlinetootight. “I’ll stay.”
“Good,” he whispers back, tucking himself against me and closing his eyes. I fall asleep holding Devin, hoping I haven’t just set myself up for heartbreak despite knowing that I have. I fall asleep ignoring every red flag and instead, enjoying Devin while I have him.
Chapter Eleven
Devin
Things have changed sincethe night we went to the river. Don’t get me wrong, Lawrence and I still bicker but our barbs have been put away, replaced by teasing words and occasional laughter.
We’ve found a routine that seems to be working. I’m currently going from house to house, cleaning it out and making sure they’re fully supplied. There’s a little voice in the back of my mind, wondering why the hell I’m going through all this trouble. Am I expecting visitors? Am I expecting tobe herelong enough to see more survivors find this place?
Lawrence continues coaxing his beehive, planting flowers nearby that’ll help them make honey. He also goes around the perimeter every other day, taking out any straggler zombies. He won’t let me come help him, claiming I need to make sure my ankle finishes healing.
There was a time I would push back against this protectiveness, telling him to fuck right off because I can do anything he can. Now? After that night? There’s a warmth that grows inside of me at the gesture.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I should know better than to fall for someone. I should know better than to let my guard down. So why the hell am I letting Lawrence in? Why the hell do I let him into my bed every morning? Why do I let him hold me as we sleep?
Fuck, I’m going soft and it’s probably going to be the death of me.
I step outside, taking in a deep breath of fresh air, hoping that’ll help calm down my racing heart. I thought this part of myself was dead along with the rest of the world. I’d convinced myself that I’d be alone forever and I was okay with that! Why did I have to find Lawrence and why did he have to break down my walls with his kindness?
We still haven’t talked about what’s going on between us. Every time he tries, I shut him down by changing the subject or telling him I have things to do. The worried wrinkle of his brow will eventually break me down enough to actually voice what’s going on, but I’m not ready for that. I’m not ready to break his heart when I remind him this is all temporary.
Does it have to be temporary?
I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair. At this point, my ankle is nearly completely healed. I no longer need a walking stick or to wrap it. I would be fine on my own. So why the hell haven’t I left yet?
Before I can completely sink into a pit of despair, Her Majesty walks over to me, rubbing herself against my legs. I sit myself down on the steps, giving her pets.
“Hello, Your Majesty,” I say softly, giving in to the small smile tugging at my lips. It feels so odd to smile. It’s been so long since I had a real reason to do so.
How can I leave this behind? There’s safety behind these walls. I could picture the rest of my life here, fighting off zombies, living off the land with Lawrence and Her Majesty by my side.
I put my face in my hands, letting out a long breath as this war continues to rage inside of me. It feels like I’m holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and I can’t relax until it does so I can see just how bad things can be. I feel paralyzed, like I can’t make a decision until then.
Her Majesty butts her head against my hands and I pull my hands away, giving her the attention she craves. “Good girl,” I tell her softly. “Are you my sweet girl? Yeah, you are.”
With a long sigh, I stand up, stretching my arms over my head. There’s about an hour left of the day before the sun is down and Lawrence can come outside. That hour window gives me an idea.
