Page 62 of Worth the Ruin
“Ok I’m going now because I’m cold and you’re an idiot. Mostly the latter part.”
He starts singing for real now. “I’ve been really tryin’ babyyyyyy?—"
“GOODBYE.”
I turn the walkie off and shake my head, but laugh. I hop off the table, clip the walkie onto the waistband of my sweats, and blow into my hands, rubbing them together to ward off thechill. I grab one of the big spaghetti pots from the workbench and head back out into the cold, filling it to the brim with snow. Again, the taps are working—and we left one trickling this whole time to keep the pipes from freezing—but there’s no reason to waste the resource when we can just as easily boil the snow.
I jog up the stairs and find Traeger up and making coffee when I come through the door. I inhale the rich, familiar scent that I never thought I’d smell again. It’s nostalgia and heartbreak and heaven all wrapped up in one delicious aroma. There are still three entire bulk-sized boxes of K-Cups in the closet, but I’m already mourning the day when those run out and we’re thrust back into the world where coffee is a rarity.RIP.
“Smells good,” I say when he looks up, that slow, crooked grin spreading across his face and a glint of mischief in his green eyes. I sit the pot down by the fireplace and cross to the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. He slides the mug over and I wrap my hands around it, enjoying the pleasure-pain sensation as the warmth seeps into my chilled skin. I raise it to my mouth and blow lightly across the surface.
“Sleep ok?” I ask nonchalantly.
He scrubs a hand across his jaw, looking unhappy and my brow furrows.
“Well, Iwouldhave, but a large, Melody-shaped octopus seemed to have wrapped itself around me during the night.”
I narrow my eyes and thin my lips, though I’m fighting a smile.
“Oh fuck off.”
“It’s true. I was nearly strangled multiple times. I feared for my life.”
“No one likes you,” I tell him as I take a tentative sip of my coffee. A long time ago, I would have had it filled with so much creamer and syrup that it really wouldn’t even have resembled coffee anymore, but I’ll take what I can get these days. At leastUncle Charlie still had sugar, and Traeger already knows exactly how much to add for my liking. It’s all so…domestic. Intimate. Nice.
I barely suppress a moan at the taste, and I continue, “I took a poll of everyone left on Earth and the decision was unanimous.”
“Well that’s just plain mean, Melody,” he says with a grin, leaning his forearms on the counter. He looks rumpled and sleepy, his hair a mess and his beard thick and scruffy. He’s in a pair of gray sweatpants and even as I tell them not to, my eyes dart downward. The counter blocks that particular area and I yank my gaze upward again. What is wrong with me? He’s got one of those tight black t-shirts of his on with a zip-up hoodie thrown over top, the sleeves pushed back showing off some of his tattoos. He looks…fuck, he lookssexy. Extremely sexy. Too sexy. The tiny thread of self-control I’m clinging to is fraying faster and faster by the second. I clear my throat and take another sip.
“I talked to Wynn. Everything is all good back home. Er, at FOS.”
He nods, not saying anything about me calling FOS home, but giving me a knowing smile all the same.
“I have good news,” he says.
“No bad news to go with it?” I ask, quirking a brow.
“For once, only good.” He takes a drink of his own coffee—black.Blech. I would rather be torn apart by Bloodies than drink that—and smiles a very self-satisfied smile. “I got the TV working.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
“Feel free to bask in my glory. Or worship at my feet. Whatever you prefer.”
I grab a pen off the counter and toss it at him before leaping off the stool and hurrying to the cabinet below the TV. It housesa small Blue Ray collection—thank God Uncle Charlie hadn’t joined the times and moved to streaming everything—and start perusing the titles. A familiar popping sound fills the air and I whirl back to him. He’s waiting in front of the small microwave. He must have found a few bags of popcorn in one of the cabinets. I don’t even fight the smile blooming across my face, and grab two cases from the shelf.
I stand and hold them up. “Do we want action—“ I shake the movie in my left hand, “—or comedy?” I shake the one in my right.
“Comedy first, action second,” he says with a shrug. Apparently he has no plans other than to veg out for the next few hours and I am completely on board.
“Good choice.”
Traeger adds another log to the fire before we settle on the mattress, backs pressed against the front of the couch with a bowl of popcorn between us.
“Not as good as the popcorn back at FOS, but not too bad,” he says, shoving a handful into his mouth. I look at him sidelong, warmth flooding through my stomach. He’d scoured town after town to find that popcorn machine. Forme. Because I’d said I missed movie theater popcorn. My chest gives a little twist. I’d nearly forgotten about it in my determination to be angry and hate him lately. He’d done that for me, for no other reason than to make me happy.Could he…I think maybe he…
I clear my throat and grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl, and we spend the morning pretending that the world outside doesn’t exist.
That evening,I take a quick shower and eye my clothes, biting my lip. That thread of self-control that had been fraying all day? Yeah. It’s gone. Snapped clean fucking off when Traeger had come out of the bedroom earlier, toweling his wet hair as he told me that it was all mine. His shirt had ridden up, giving me a peek at his lean stomach, the dips and ridges of his abs, those fucking indentions at his hips…I’d had to squeeze my hands into fists so tightly my knuckles ached to stop myself from grabbing him. I’d sped into the bedroom like my ass was on fire, quickly shutting the door behind me and ignoring his look of confusion. I’d leaned back against it, banging the back of my head lightly against it several times, trying desperately to get a hold of myself. It had barely worked and I knew it would only last long enough to shower and change. The second I see him again in the living room, I know that all bets are off.
