SANCTUARY

CLAIRE KENT

CONTENTS

About Sanctuary

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Excerpt from Homestead

About Claire Kent

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2023 by Claire Kent. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

ABOUT SANCTUARY

Ever since civilization fell apart eight years ago, I’ve used my body in any way necessary to protect my younger sister and stay alive. Now she’s safe and settled, I’m free to travel my own path, never again confined by walls or the demands of any man. Everyone says a woman isn’t safe by herself in the dangerous wilderness the world has become, but I’m doing just fine on my own.

My job as a messenger and courier offers me freedom and the means to provide for the people I love. No one is going to take it away from me—especially not clever, cynical Aidan, who insists I’m moving in on his territory. He’s starting to compete with me for jobs, but I’ve never backed down from a challenge. Not when I was young and helpless and certainly not now that I’m not. If he wants a war, he’ll get one.

I’ll never back down to a man again, even one I’m starting to want.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Most of the books in the Kindled series can be effectively read as standalones, but Sanctuary is a book best read after the previous one. You’ll lose a lot of the emotional power if you jump into it out of context. While you certainly don’t need to start from the beginning of the series, I recommend you at least read Citadel before reading this one.

Sanctuary also features main characters with the most traumatic backgrounds in the series. Both Breanna and Aidan have gone through a lot. Last Light and the Kindled series have always included violence, death, and sexual assault as part of the backdrop of the post-apocalyptic world, but this book hits harder on those themes. Breanna was repeatedly sexually abused in the past. While those acts are explained as backstory, there is no on-page sexual assault in this book. Aidan’s family history is violent and traumatic—again, only explained after the fact and not shown on page. If you’ve already read Citadel, then Breanna’s history won’t be a surprise but Aidan’s might be, and I thought I’d give an early warning about the book as a whole in case you’d prefer to avoid these themes.

1

YEAR EIGHT AFTER IMPACT

THE SCHOOL CLOSED before Impact when the roof on one side caved in.

It was a small, rural elementary school built high on a mountain in West Virginia, and budget cuts plus local corruption led to constant disrepair of the building. After the roof collapse, the school board temporarily merged the students with those in the nearest town with plans to eventually repair and reopen.

Unsurprisingly, two years passed with no progress except more debates on costs and timelines.

Then the world learned about the asteroid on a trajectory to hit Western Europe, decimating the continent and causing catastrophic effects on the entire planet, and the future of a tiny school in the middle of nowhere no longer mattered in any way.

All the supplies of value that remained in the old building were scavenged in the first year after Impact—the food, medication, and paper products, as well as the gasoline from a few abandoned vehicles. No one bothered with the other stuff, however. After all, for years our only priority was staying alive in a brutal, uncertain new world. No one cared about notebooks and mini-dictionaries and construction paper.

But it’s been eight years now. Most of the people on Earth have died, and those of us who survived have slowly adapted. Communities are starting to stabilize, and some have even opened schools.

Suddenly leftover supplies from the old world actually matter again.

All this was explained to me yesterday when I was given this new job. Climb the mountain. Dig through the rubble of the old building. Retrieve as many salvageable school supplies as I can carry back.

For the successful completion of this job, the customer will give me a large sack of flour (something my town can really use) and a lovely wedding dress in my sister’s size.

My sister, Del, and her man are getting married soon. They want a traditional ceremony. She’s planning to make do with a simple dress several of the women in Monument have shared, but it’s way too big for her, and I want her to have something better. Special.

Life is hard enough now. For all of us. If I can help give her one perfect day, then that’s what I’ll do.

So for the past several weeks, wherever I’ve traveled, I’ve asked folks settled in small towns and communities about wedding dresses, and yesterday I discovered someone had one in a fortified town about twenty miles from this mountain. When I asked about jobs to trade for it, this was the one they gave me.

It’s a big one. For almost a year now, I’ve been traveling this region—formerly western Virginia and southern West Virginia—finding or trading supplies and delivering messages between communities. I’m good at it, and I’ve made a lot of contacts. But I’m only one medium-sized woman, so I usually stay away from jobs that require me to haul too large a load. I do have a cart, however. If I fill it with usable school supplies, they’ll give me the flour and dress.

That’s why I’m currently approaching the mountain on a damp, chilly day in November, wheeling my empty cart along an old highway that’s now crumbling from years of hard use, weather, and disrepair.

Despite the fact that I’ve been walking since dawn and twice have gotten rained on, I’m in a good mood. Excited about the wedding dress. I like physical activity. I like being on my own, taking care of myself and the very few people in my close circle.

Our parents died when I was seventeen, after the world went to hell post-Impact. To keep me and Del alive, I had to do a lot of previously unimaginable things, including letting men fuck me so they’d feed and defend us.

Life has changed now. I’m twenty-five, and my sister is safe and has a man who’s more than capable of protecting her. So I’ll never be forced to let a man fuck me again.

Any day I can rely only on myself is a good one.

I reach the base of the mountain but have to skirt the perimeter to find the road up. As I walk, I notice what looks like an old hiking trail through the woods. I take mental note of it, observing that I could get up that way if necessary. It’s far overgrown with encroaching branches and half-dead underbrush, but the ground is packed and fairly dry from the trees and ground cover, even after a week of rainy weather.

I won’t be able to get the cart up that way though, so I keep moving until I reach the road.

It’s a disappointment.

The pavement is in much worse condition than the former highway I’ve been following. It’s barely passable and even worse than normal because the rain has turned the dirt underneath into mud. I make it about a quarter of a mile before I give up.

I can get up this way myself, but I’ll never get my cart up. The wheels keep sinking into the mud and snagging on crumbling chunks of blacktop.

Slightly less enthusiastic than before, I turn around and wheel my cart back down, returning to the hiking trail where I can force the cart through the brittle undergrowth and leave it hidden from sight.

On foot, the road will be a quicker ascent than the trail, so I walk back around the mountain to the turnoff. I’ve only barely started up when I hear something behind me.

My instincts trigger even before my mind lands on what I’m hearing. I dart off the road and into the woods, hiding behind the thick trunk of an oak and pulling out my gun.

The roadways are mostly empty now. Most people ran out of gasoline a long time ago, so means of transport are almost exclusively bicycles and our own feet. Travel is always dangerous, so most stay behind the safe walls of their communities.

It’s certainly possible I might pass by a fellow traveler on the old highway, but not on this isolated mountain road.

No one should be here but me.

But what I’m hearing are wheels turning—like the ones on my own cart—and the occasional huff or grunt of effort.

I peek around the tree trunk to see the road, and I realize who it is at the first glimpse of his cart.

Damn it.

What the hell is Aidan doing here?

He’s been operating in this region for years longer than me as a trader, a messenger, and an odd-job man. Del claims he helped out her and Cole several times, but his “help” always comes with a hefty price tag.

He also isn’t picky about the kind of people he works for.

I can’t stand him and avoid him as much as possible. A wave of angry resentment washes over me as I realize the only reason he might be here right now is if he’s trying to do the same supply run as me.

He’s trying to steal my job.

He already has a lock on most of the well-supplied communities in this region. They won’t work with anyone but him. And now he’s trying to snatch away one of my contacts—merely because he can.

I raise my gun as he comes into sight, pushing the cart with obvious effort. He’s obnoxiously good-looking. Tall with a lean kind of strength—not big and bulky. He’s got longish hair that looks gold in sunlight but a light brown on gray days like today. He’s originally from England and still speaks with an accent.

The mere sound of his clever, cultured voice grates on my nerves.

Everything about him does.

Del told me he demanded that I back off on his territory.

Me. Breanna. Back off. As if everything Aidan lays his eyes on belongs to him.

I’ll never back off. Not for him.

Not for any man who demands it of me.

Not anymore.

I click off my safety, fighting the temptation to simply shoot him. The move makes a small sound, but it’s soft. Muted. There’s no way he should have heard it.

He pauses from pushing his cart, wiping sweat off his face like he’s taking a breath. Then, in a move so smooth I’m barely aware of it, he pulls out the pistol he keeps in the holster on his hip and points it directly at me.

Damn it.

I really hate this man.

“Might as well come out, love,” he says after peering into the shadows of the trees for a few seconds. “That hair stands out like a beacon in the gray of those trees.”

I’ve got vibrant red hair that’s grown halfway down my back because it’s been ages since I’ve had a haircut. It does tend to stand out, but right now I’ve got it pulled tightly into two french braids to keep it out of my way. Surely it’s not as conspicuous as he indicates.

Despite my skepticism, I step out from the shade of the trees, keeping my pistol pointed directly at his chest. He’s got his still aimed at me too.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, although I already know the answer.

He has a smug little smile that hovers at the corners of his mouth. “I would think that would be obvious.”

“This is my job. They made the arrangement with me.”

“They made the arrangement with me first. I made a deal to take care of it after I completed another job. So you’re the one who stole the job from me.”

I blink, genuinely surprised by this piece of information. The people in the town said nothing about dealing with Aidan. I asked for the wedding dress, and when they offered this job, I negotiated until they also agreed to the sack of flour. “I didn’t know that.”

“Now you do.”

In a different situation with a different man, I might have felt bad about accidentally undercutting someone else. But this is Aidan. And he’s standing there all arrogant and pleased with himself, assuming I’ll fold to his claim.

I don’t fold. Not anymore.

“Well, I’m sorry if they changed their mind, but I talked to them yesterday afternoon, and we worked out our deal. I’m sure you were asking more in trade than I was, so they took the offer that worked best for them.”

“Not very professional of you to snatch a job from someone else.”

“I didn’t snatch it away from you on purpose. I didn’t even know. But the issue is decided now. They chose to work with me.”

“If I’m the one who arrives with their supplies, do you genuinely believe they’ll refuse to pay me?”

My cheeks are getting hot from anger, and the most frustrating thing is I know he’ll be able to see it. It’s the curse of pale skin and freckles. I flush way too easily, and it’s a clue to emotions I’d rather keep hidden. “Why bother? I get you thought the job was yours, but I actually need it. They’re giving me a wedding dress for Del, and I can’t get that from anyone else. Surely you’ve got enough work without making a fuss about this one.”

His eyebrows lift slightly. His face is damp with effort—he really must have been booking it to get here before I was done—but his manner is cool and disinterested, like none of this is of any importance to him. “This is my territory. This is my job.”

“You don’t get to claim territory purely because you want it. Every town you’ve set foot in doesn’t automatically belong to you. There are plenty of jobs for both of us.”

He gives a huff of dry amusement. “You say that immediately after you’ve taken a job from me.”

“That’s only happened once. If you want, I can start checking to make sure folks aren’t playing both of us to get the best deal. But it’s not my fault you got undercut this time. You probably asked for too much.”

“I ask for what I’m worth, love. With more experience, you’ll be able to ask for more too.” His voice is pitched intentionally to sound as condescending as possible.

He’s always obnoxious, but he’s not normally so patronizing. He’s doing it on purpose, trying to make me mad. And it’s working. I desperately want to scratch off this infuriating man’s skin. Who the hell does he think he is?

But the last thing I’ll ever do is give Aidan what he’s looking for. So I narrow my eyes and restrain my emotional reaction. “I understand you’re pissy about losing the job, but that’s not my worry. Take it up with the people responsible.”

He doesn’t answer. Just laughs again, cool and bitter. And then—the most galling thing he could have done—he holsters his weapon.

As if I will never be a threat to him.

He reaches for the handles of his cart and starts pushing it again. Clearly he’s planning to proceed with the job that’s supposed to be mine.

He’s going to have a lot of trouble getting that cart up on the mountain on the hazardous road, but I don’t give him any warning about that. I slide my own pistol into my holster and then start running up the mountain.

I don’t have my cart with me. I pass him easily and am soon out of sight.

I’ll beat him to the school, but there I’ll have to move quickly to gather enough supplies, hide them somewhere, and then carry them down load by load to my cart. Aidan isn’t as huge and muscular as my sister’s man, Cole, but he’s definitely bigger and stronger than me. He might be able to force his cart up the mountain when I can’t.

My speed accelerates to a run at the thought.

There’s no way in hell I’m going to let that man win.

My lungs and thigh muscles burn when I reach the school, but I don’t take the time to rest. One wing of the building has completely caved in, so I hurry to the other side, kicking in a door to enter.

It’s dark and wet and disgusting inside. With the roof and most windows busted, the weather and wildlife have crept inside. There are birds’ nests. Animal droppings. Dirt and spiderwebs and a shuffling sound I’m pretty sure is from rodents.

I ignore the automatic shudder that runs down my spine and start checking rooms. The classrooms were along the outside of the building. They all had windows, and so everything inside is waterlogged, disintegrated, or completely unusable. After three classrooms, I stop checking them. They’re all going to be the same.

Instead, I explore the rooms in the interior of the structure. There’s a cafeteria and a nurse’s office, but both of those have been raided and emptied a long time ago since the supplies kept there would be considered essential.

The next door I open leads into a storage room with a huge copy machine. I have to turn on my flashlight to see. There are no windows in this room, so the contents haven’t been damaged. And since nothing in here is necessary for survival, it’s been overlooked by earlier scavengers.

This room contains the entire haul for this job.

I open the large empty pack I brought with me and, after a quick scan, start emptying bins of small calculators, protractors, scissors, pens, markers, and pencils into it. I pack it as full as possible. It’s incredibly heavy after I zip it, but I manage to heft it up and hook the straps onto my shoulders so I can carry the supplies on my back.

Then I leave the room, moving quickly, pulling out my gun so I’ll be ready if Aidan makes an appearance.

He doesn’t. He must still be struggling to get his cart up the mountain in the mud.

Good. He deserves every obstacle he encounters.

Instead of going back down the road where I know I’ll run into him, I find the head of that hiking trail and hurry down that way instead. I look for hiding places along the way that will keep the supplies safe and out of sight, but there’s nothing that will work. So I have to descend all the way to where I left my cart.

I empty the bag into it and then start back up to the school again.

I’m exhausted and damp with perspiration by the time I reach the building a second time. There’s still no sign of Aidan. He must have really gotten stuck.

I race to the storage room again and fill my bag with unopened packs of notebook paper and construction paper, along with some child-sized dictionaries and pencil sharpeners. As much as I can squeeze in and still get the bag zipped.

There are at least two more bagfuls of supplies available. More pens and pencils. More paper. And a small selection of textbooks. I’ll grab those on my next load.

I summon my strength and take a deep breath before hauling the heavy bag onto my shoulders again. Then I hurry down the hiking trail so fast I slide part of the way.

I’m so exhausted after I dump the second load of supplies in my cart that I have to sit down for a couple of minutes to steady myself.

This would be so much easier if I didn’t have to race through it to claim everything before Aidan. I hope the damned man sprains his ankle or runs over his foot with his own cart.

It doesn’t matter if they offered it to him first. The job is now mine.

Physical exhaustion requires me to move slower on the hike up the third time. I get a sick feeling in my gut as I enter the school again. I’m not sure how I sense it, but I’m not wrong.

When I reach the storage room, the shelves are entirely empty.

Everything remaining has been taken.

Aidan must have finally made it up the mountain.

I’m so outraged I smother an angry exclamation. He stole half my haul. And for no good reason.

Yes, he thought it should have been his, but he doesn’t need it. The payment can’t be very important to his livelihood.

He simply wants to win.

I have only a few choices available to me right now, but one of them fills my mind with a red-hot fog and compels my legs to move. I run down on the crumbling road, following the tracks of Aidan’s cart in the mud.

Halfway down, I discover one spot where he clearly got stuck for a while. The wheels gouged out deep crevices, and his footprints are scattered on all sides of them, displaying how he struggled to dig out the cart.

The markings in the mud give me only a small degree of vindication. He still managed to make it to the top and steal supplies right out from under me.

I keep running, finally catching a glimpse of his cart and a glint of the dark gold of his hair at the base of the mountain.

He’s about to turn onto the old highway where he’ll be able to make much better time.

I pull out my gun as I start running.

“Stop! Stop right there!” I try to sound as forceful and authoritative as I can. I’ve never been a pushover, and my voice is lower, kind of husky. But I’m brutally out of breath from all my exertion, so I’m not sure my loud demand is as intimidating as it’s supposed to be.

Aidan stops.

When he reaches for the gun at his hip, I pull my trigger. The bullet whizzes right past his ear.

“I missed on purpose,” I tell him. I’m usually a careful, thoughtful person, but I’m far too angry for nuanced strategy right now.

Aidan has half my supplies in his cart.

“I know you did,” he says, turning around toward me with his hands halfway up in a gesture of surrender.

“So you know I’ll shoot you if you don’t return those supplies to me. I’m not playing around here.” I move closer. I’m still panting for breath, but my hand doesn’t waver.

I never knew how to use a gun until Cole taught me and Del when he escorted us away from the eastern coastline more than three years ago. We didn’t own any weapons except knives, and we’d lived that long through the chaos after Impact by relying on the protection of other people. Since I couldn’t fight, I used my body in a different way to keep us safe.

Never again will I give what I don’t want to give merely because a man lays claim to it.

“So take those supplies out of your cart right now and lay them on the road. Then walk away and don’t turn back.”

“That’s not going to happen, love.”

“And stop calling me fucking love. I just told you I’ll shoot you.”

Aidan has unnervingly vivid green eyes. They stand out in his damp, dirty face, and they scan my face and body in a quick assessment.

I’m not sure what he reads in me, but it evidently makes his decision.

“You want to,” he says at last. “But you won’t.”

I shoot again, the bullet ruffling his hair as it whips by the side of his head.

He ignores it. He grips the handles of his cart and starts pushing. “Don’t point that thing if you’re not willing to use it. If you want to beat me, you’ll have to play to win. You’re too soft. If you want to be an asshole, you need to commit.”

My hand shakes on the trigger. My vision blurs over.

I want to shoot this man so badly I sway on my feet, but I can’t do it.

I can’t.

He’s right.

I’m still too soft.

I care about what’s right and what’s wrong.

I can’t bring myself to shoot a man in the back.

Even if it’s Aidan.

It’s two days later before I make it back to Monument and the small cottage I share with Del and Cole.

They’re happy to see me. And Del actually cries over the wedding dress.

Aidan beat me to the West Virginia town with his half of the supplies. I moved as fast as I could, but my legs are shorter than his and he had a head start. There was no way I could overtake him.

When I arrived, I was relieved to discover they hadn’t given him the entire payment. He got three-quarters of the sack of flour, but they still had the wedding dress and a quarter of the flour for my haul.

They said they wanted to split the flour in half, but Aidan wouldn’t take the wedding dress, so he got more flour.

He wasn’t saving that dress for me to be nice. It simply wouldn’t be of any use to him.

At least I got something out of the job, but it doesn’t make me resent Aidan any less.

I take a bath after my long travels and wash and comb out my hair. Then I spend the evening by the fireplace with Del and Cole, talking about what happened and complaining about Aidan and his perfidy.

Del is sympathetic, but I know she doesn’t hate Aidan as much as I do, which is occasionally annoying.

“He shouldn’t have taken your stuff,” she says at last. We’re two years apart and don’t look alike. She’s smaller than me—shorter and less curvy—with wavy auburn hair and big brown eyes. She’s pretty in a delicate way with the graceful neck and shoulders of a ballerina. “But he was offered the job first, so I can understand why he was pissed.”

“He had no justification for what he did,” I grit out.

“No. He didn’t. But he was already worried about you taking his business, and then you actually did.”

“I had no idea—”

“I know you didn’t. It wasn’t your fault either. Just a bad situation.”

“It wouldn’t have been a bad situation if he hadn’t made it one. I should have just shot him when I had the chance.”

Del shakes her head. Clearly she knows I’d never do that. “But you didn’t. And he didn’t shoot you either. If he wanted to shoot you, he could have done it.”

“I had the advantage over him.”

“Yes. The second time. But at first you said he surprised you. He saw you hiding behind the tree. Couldn’t he have shot you then?”

I narrow my eyes at Del. She’s quiet but has a matter-of-fact sensibility that is often helpful but right now annoys me.

I don’t want to hear logic when I’m in a righteous rage.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think the simple fact of his not shooting me makes him a good man. Exactly how low is the bar for men anymore? Choosing not to kill us is enough?”

“No, it’s not enough. And I totally agree with you that he’s being an asshole. He feels threatened for some reason.”

“There are plenty of jobs for both of us. It’s stupid machismo that’s making him feel threatened. He wants to beat me.”

“And of course you want to beat him.” Del gives me a little smile. She and Cole are sitting together on an old love seat Cole salvaged a few months ago. He’s got his arm around her.

“I want to beat him only because he keeps challenging me. I’d be perfectly happy if we ignored each other for the rest of our lives.”

“I know. I’m sorry he’s being such a pain. But you’re tough. You’ll think of some way to come out ahead.”

I roll my eyes and stare into the fire, picturing Aidan’s handsome, much-hated face. “I know I’m tough. But he doesn’t think I’m as tough as him.”

“You’re not,” Cole puts in, surprising me so much I turn to stare at him with a jerk of my head.

“Cole,” Del says softly, a gentle warning in her voice.

“No,” I say. “Let him talk. You really think I’m not tough?”

Cole is as big and strong and unmovable as a mountain. I didn’t like him when we first met him, but he’s proven himself to be completely committed to Del.

He loves her so much it sometimes startles and disturbs me.

I honestly never knew a man could love so deeply. Could love without taking.

I trust him now too. I’m hurt and surprised by his words, but I want to hear what he means.

“Of course you’re tough,” he says in his gruff voice. His eyes are weirdly gray like a wolf’s. “You’re the toughest woman I’ve ever known.”

I glance in concern at Del, not wanting her to be hurt. She’s not. Her mouth twitches as she shrugs. “He’s right,” she whispers. “You’re way tougher than me.”

“So what’s the problem then?” I ask him.

“Aidan is bigger and stronger than you are, and he’s spent years not caring about a single other person. You’ll never beat him by trying to be tougher than him. You’re gonna have to be smarter than him.”

I stare at Cole for a minute, shaken by the insightful comment and how true it rings to me.

“He’s pretty smart,” I say.

“Yeah. Sure. But there’s no reason you can’t be smarter. That’s the only way you can beat him.”

I think about that for a long time, until I finally decide that Cole is right.

I can’t be tougher than Aidan. It’s never going to happen.

But I can definitely be smarter.

And who’s to say that won’t be enough?

2

FOR THE NEXT WEEK, I stick close to home, doing small messenger jobs for the town, posting guard duty on the perimeter wall, and trying to decide how best to proceed with Aidan.

It’s not a bad week, but I’m already getting restless at the end of it.

Lately I’ve been happier on the move. And other than Del and Cole, there’s not much for me in Monument.

The people in town are nice. They’re hardworking and practical and not particularly outgoing. They have little patience for superficial niceties, but they’re also kind and willing to help when they can. They took Del and me in when we were desperate and had little to offer, and I’ll always be grateful to them for that.

Del and Cole have made a home here. I’m not sure they’re ever planning to leave. I don’t feel the same, but it’s not because of Monument.

It’s because of me.

I’m not sure I’ll ever feel at home anywhere. With anyone.

And I’m not complaining. Safety and independence are all I ask for anymore, and I have both—at least, as much as anyone has either one in what the world has become.

Everyone in town has required work shifts and one day off a week, but I save up my days off so I can leave for longer jobs on my own. As long as I bring back some sort of provisions for the town, they don’t complain about me working freelance.

On Saturday I have guard duty starting at midnight, but I’m done by midmorning and have the remainder of the day to myself.

I have an idea.

It’s bold. Presumptuous. Under normal circumstances, I’d immediately discount it as not being fair play, but Aidan has made it clear that fairness isn’t on his radar.

He doesn’t deserve to get away with poaching my jobs without any consequences.

So maybe I can poach from him too.

He already assumes I’m purposefully stealing his jobs, so I might as well do just that.

I stop by the community garden to find Del, who’s on a shift there this morning. I tell her where I’m heading and that I should be back before dark but if I don’t show up until tomorrow, she’s not to worry.

She’ll worry anyway, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

I spent most of my life worrying about her.

By cutting through the woods and over a couple of mountains instead of taking the roads, I save several hours of walking time. By the time the sun is high in the sky, I’m approaching a small river town fortified by walls like every other community after Impact and noteworthy primarily because of dozens of small boats they have docked on the river.

The town is called Sharpsburg. Their location on a boatable river has given them an advantage in food and trade, and they’ve built connections with a number of other communities situated on the river.

If I can get an in with them, I’ll have more than enough jobs to fill my time.

The problem is they’ve been working with Aidan for years. They’ve given me a few minor jobs when I’ve stopped by to ask but only ones he’s already turned down.

It’s time for that to change.

If he can take a job from me, then I can take one from him.

Or more than one.

Maybe I’ll never be tougher than him, but I sure as hell can be smarter. And I’ve got certain advantages that Aidan will never have.

The Sharpsburg mayor is a lazy man in his sixties who likes to order people around but does very little work himself. The person who actually gets things done here is the deputy mayor, James, a smart, efficient guy in his thirties.

He’s got a wife and kids at home, but that doesn’t stop him from showing interest to any available, attractive woman who crosses his path. The one decent thing I can say about James is that he doesn’t take advantage of vulnerability. He only fucks women who are willing.

The first time I came to town to offer my services, he made a move on me. I turned him down, of course. I don’t need jobs that badly anymore. He accepted my refusal without any aggression or spite, so I’ve come back a few times to take his temperature about jobs.

Every time, he has insisted that Aidan gets first dibs. Aidan stops by to check almost every Sunday, so he ends up claiming every worthwhile run.

This time, when I find James overseeing repairs on the wall, I’m ready for him. I’ve taken off the hoodie I’ve been wearing, so I’m in jeans and a clingy tank top.

His eyes start crawling over me as soon as I approach.

I’ve got a pretty good body. Long legs, rounded hips, full breasts, and toned muscles. Even during the worst of the food deprivation we faced several years ago, I never got scrawny like my sister. There’s something in my genes that refuses to give up flesh. My curves simply won’t go away. I’m used to men leering at me. Usually it evokes a kind of tired impatience, but sometimes it’s helpful.

Today I’m counting on it.

James remembers me. Asks me how I’ve been doing and how things are going in Monument. I give him a few harmless updates and then tell him about some of the extra jobs I’ve taken on recently so he knows what I’m capable of.

His eyes rarely move higher than my breasts as we talk.

“I’m looking for another job,” I say, pitching my voice to sound soft and sultry rather than the normal no-nonsense tone I use for professional matters. “Do you have anything you need? A supply run? A message delivered?”

“Aidan’s supposed to stop by tomorrow. He’ll take care of it.”

“I’m sure he would, but why should you wait another day? I’m here now. I could have it done by tomorrow.”

“I’ve got a deal with Aidan,” he says, still staring at my cleavage.

I take a step closer to him. Maybe I should feel cheap or shallow using my physical attributes to sway his opinion, but I don’t.

Aidan has the advantage of size and strength and a longer history in this area. My only advantages here are my tits.

So I’ll use them.

“Well, maybe you can make a different sort of deal with me.”

“Like what?” he asks thickly.

I’ll never have sex with a man who is married or otherwise taken even if I were interested. And I’m not interested in James for anything but the work he can give me. The reason I’m feeling flushed and excited is not because I’m responding to his obvious lust.

It’s because I’m getting one over on Aidan.

He won’t know the reason, however. He’ll just see the blush on my cheeks and the rising tension in my muscles.

He’s going to think I’m into him, and that’s just fine with me.

“Like you give me a job to do today to try me out, and you pay me only half what you’d pay Aidan.”

That catches his attention. He’s as practical as he is horny.

“Half?”

“Yes. Half. We can call it an experiment. This time I’ll take half. If I manage the job to your… satisfaction, then maybe you’ll keep me in mind for the future. I’m willing to regularly take three-quarters of the payment you’d offer to Aidan.”

His eyes slide back down to my chest. “Aidan will be pissed.”

“Why would he be? We’re both professionals, and there’s plenty of work for both of us. It’s not personal after all. He’s not the only one who needs work, and why would he expect you not to take the best deal you can possibly get?”

For a moment, I see indecision flickering on his face. Then he decides. “Okay. We’ll try it this once. Half price. Then we’ll decide about the future.”

I’m so exhilarated by my success that I have to restrain the impulse to whoop and hug myself. I manage to maintain a somewhat calm demeanor as I accept the offer and get the details of the job.

Wait until Aidan finds out.

Pissed doesn’t even come close to what he’s going to feel when he finds out I’ve undercut him with his best customer.

He’s going to be mad as hell.

I can’t wait.

James’s job for me is fairly easy. A trade with a town a few mountains over that’s evidently been done multiple times over the years. Sharpsburg is offering several packages of sugar—of which they evidently have scavenged a stockpile—in return for salt from the other town.

The salt they need to dry and preserve the fish they catch in the river so that it lasts through the winter.

The amount of sugar and salt is easily carried in my backpack, so I don’t need to haul my cart. I much prefer traveling like that, and the trip is through territory that’s familiar to me.

In return for completing the job, James offers me either a selection of nails, screws, and other construction fasteners or else half a case of dried fish. We’re doing fine on food this year, so I ask for the nails and screws. We don’t have a skilled metalworker in Monument, and we’re always running out of good quality supplies for our construction projects.

The only disadvantage of this particular job is that it will take about eight hours for me to make it to the other town, even using all the shortcuts I know. That means I won’t be able to get back to Monument until tomorrow.

Del will be worried.

It will be worth it, however, if I can make a good connection with Sharpsburg. I agree to James’s terms and start out on the trip immediately.

The afternoon is uneventful. I make good time, and I don’t run into any trouble. I get to the other town a couple of hours after dark, which isn’t ideal since it’s much more dangerous to be outside of walls at night, but I don’t have an option today.

If I waited until tomorrow to leave Sharpsburg, I’d almost certainly have run into Aidan. And I’d rather not do that until the job is complete.

The folks in the other town are surprised, but they happily make the trade with me, and they give me a bed to sleep in for the night.

I start off at dawn the following morning so I can return to Sharpsburg by early afternoon and get back to Monument before dark.

Most of the journey is as easy as it was yesterday. I occasionally encounter fellow travelers, but they’re either harmless or avoidable. I never try to face anyone down. At the first sign of another person, I get off the road fast and hide until they’ve passed.

Everything is going exactly as I want it until I start the final downhill trek to reach the river and Sharpsburg. Standing right in the middle of the trail is a tall, lean, unmistakable figure.

Aidan.

After a quick internal debate, I decide to keep walking. I could try to avoid him, but he will have seen me, and he’d probably follow if I switched to a different route.

He’s pissed.

That much is clear.

I can see it in his posture even before I get close enough to see his face.

Now that I’m in the position of confronting him, I have no idea what to say. I meet his gaze evenly and keep walking, shifting my trajectory slightly so I can move around him.

He moves to the side enough to block my new path.

“What is the problem?” I ask with a casualness I don’t feel. “I need to get through.”

“There’s no way it’s worth your time and effort for only half a payment. Are you doing this purely to spite me?”

His bitter skepticism enrages me. I have to stop myself from snapping my teeth and smacking his handsome face. “Are you somehow the main character of everyone else’s story? Believe it or not, I make decisions that have nothing to do with you.”

“I would assume so. But if that’s true, then why undercut me intentionally when you’re barely getting anything out of it?”

“Are you being serious? You’re asking so innocently why I’m undercutting you? When last week you went and stole half my supplies. You didn’t need that either. You did it because it would hurt me.”

“I did it because that job was supposed to be mine. Not to hurt you.” His eyes look very dark in the bright light of the sun, which is high in the sky right now. “You claimed not to have stolen it intentionally, but you absolutely stole this one on purpose.”

“I’ve always tried to make partnerships of my own, having nothing to do with yours. But if you’re going to intrude on mine, then I have every right to intrude on yours.” I’m amazed I’m able to sound so cool and unaffected when I’m nearly shaking with hot resentment.

“I’m not going to let you get away with it. This was my territory first.” I’ve never seen Aidan angry before. He’s always been annoyed or indignant but not actively angry.

He’s angry now.

He’s not shouting. Not attacking me. But he’s cold as ice.

“You don’t really have much choice. You don’t control me.” I purposefully step around him. I turn my head and say over my shoulder. “No one does.”

I lengthen my stride, starting to move quickly and focused ahead of me, as if he doesn’t matter, as if I’m not bothered by the confrontation.

Even though it’s left me trembling—for any number of reasons.

“Breanna,” Aidan bites out.

His tone catches my attention. I turn around.

He’s aiming his pistol at me.

I’m scared. I can’t help but be. I’ve never known Aidan to kill indiscriminately, but I don’t actually know him very well. He’s angry now. He might kill me because I’m a threat to his business.

Or merely because he can.

My vision blurs slightly as I think through available options.

If Del was here, I know what I’d do. I’d back down immediately. I’d give him exactly what he wants. It’s what I did over and over again for the past eight years, whenever our lives were in danger.

But she’s not here right now. She doesn’t need me like she used to. She has Cole to take care of her.

No one needs me. No one is my responsibility anymore. And there’s something about Aidan that has awakened a defiance inside me I didn’t know existed before.

So I shake off the rising panic and turn back around. Toward Sharpsburg. I call back to him lightly, “Don’t point that thing if you’re not willing to use it.”

I’m holding my breath as I walk. I’m waiting for the crack of gunfire. The searing pain of a bullet tearing through my flesh.

It doesn’t come.

Aidan doesn’t fire, and he doesn’t say anything as I walk away from him.

I get back to Monument about an hour before sunset, and I’m still brimming with excitement and a satisfied kind of pride at my success.

I did it. Exactly what Cole suggested. I beat Aidan at his own game by using my brains and available resources rather than sheer strength or speed. It required a certain amount of risk since I wasn’t entirely certain Aidan wouldn’t kill me, but the gamble paid off.

And I proved I’ll never be a pushover to any man.

Or woman for that matter.

I can’t wait to tell Del and Cole all about it. They’ll be just as pleased with my success as I am. Del is probably worried because I’m arriving back home later than I expected, but she’ll understand. She knows I can’t stay behind walls all the time. She’d never ask me to.

After dropping off my payment of construction supplies at the town center, I walk with a quick stride to our little cottage. It’s a comfortable, cozy place to live.

Del fixed up the roof last year, so it doesn’t leak anymore. And Cole built a wider porch on the front in the spring where we now have three secondhand deck chairs and a small table.

I’ve gotten to the front walk, almost smiling in anticipation of sharing my success, when I hear the muffled sound of Del crying out.

My only justification is that it’s nearly impossible to differentiate between various kinds of cries when heard out of context. I panic. Act on instinct. Start running and burst in through the front door as I hear Del making another loud sobbing sound. I’m slammed with a tidal wave of guilt and fear and responsibility.

Del is my little sister. It’s always been my job to take care of her. And I left her here to do my own thing instead of staying to protect her. If something happens to her, it will be my fault. I’ve been too self-focused lately, acting on my own needs instead of thinking of hers.

Yes, Cole is always around. Yes, he’s strong. And yes, he’s given every evidence of loving her.

But he’s still a man, and they can never fully be trusted to act against their own best interests in service of someone else.

All this is spiraling frantically in my head as I take a quick scan through the quiet main room of the cottage. Everything is as it should be, and nobody is visible.

The bedroom door down the hall is closed, and Del cries out again. I take three fast steps before I jerk to a stop as I finally process more sounds. More clues.

There’s a heavy, rhythmic banging sound coming from the bedroom. A gruff male grunting that’s almost animalistic. Then Del’s loud exclamations start to form words. “Yes! Cole, please!”

I freeze, stunned as the realization of what’s happening in the bedroom finally penetrates through the cloud of fear in my brain.

Del is not in trouble. Not even close.

I know they have an active sex life. It’s impossible not to know when we share the same house. But they always try to be considerate about the noise. They might go at it like animals—sometimes multiple times a day—but they always stay fairly quiet when they know I’m at home.

So most of the time I can shrug it off or block it out.

But they don’t know I’m here right now, so they’re more uninhibited than normal.

They’re really fucking loud.

I’m still stunned. Breathless from the panic and the rush into the house. Trying to get my mind and body to work enough to turn around and leave. Give them some privacy.

I’ve clearly caught them at a climactic moment. Del is definitely having a very good time. She’s always been quiet, keeping her thoughts to herself. I’ve never heard her so loud in her life. And that damn bed frame is hammering against the wall. It’s a miracle it hasn’t fallen apart from the rough handling it’s getting.

Now Cole is talking, his throaty voice a softer contrast to the banging and Del’s sobbing. “There it is. That’s my good girl. You like it like this, don’t you? You’re taking it so good. This is what you’ve needed all day. You’re being such a good girl, coming so hard for me.” Then there’s a sharp slapping sound, unmistakably a spank. It makes Del come again with more loud abandon.

My stomach churns sickeningly. I choke around a sudden tension in my throat. My frozen body is suddenly freed, and I stumble back out of the cottage.

I stand for a minute outside on the front porch, sucking in the late afternoon air, but I can still hear them. Cole spanks her again, and Del sobs in pleasure.

My stomach heaves. I run. Away from the cottage. Down the street. Toward the closest exit on the wall, the one side door used only by locals leaving town.

The guard manning the position asks if I’m all right as I rush out, gasping and trying desperately to calm the churning inside me. I call out I’m fine—an absolute lie—and run until I’ve reached the bank of a nearby creek.

There’s no one in sight here. Nothing but the water and overgrown grass and the setting sun.

I fall to my knees, vomiting in painful wretches into the grass until my stomach is empty.

Then I find a large rock farther down the creek and sit on it, trying to catch my breath, wipe off my face, and pull myself back together.

Del and Cole did absolutely nothing wrong. They’re a couple. They’re allowed to enjoy each other any way they want. And I’m sure a lot of women would find that kind of thing sexy. Maybe they need it to feel safe enough to let go.

It’s not their fault that I’ve heard talk like that too in very different contexts. That men have spoken to me like I’m an object, spanked me, used me for their own selfish purposes, and acted like I was enjoying it when I had no choice but to let them fuck me in any way they chose.

I’ve never been raped through physical violence. Not once in my life. But only because I’ve always given men what they want before they can take it by force. Whenever we were helpless, I’d find the strongest man around, the one most capable of protecting me, and offer myself to him willingly.

I’d act like I wanted it, and they were all fools enough to believe it.

They got off on it. And I dealt with it because it was the only way to keep me and my sister alive.

I made sure Del never had to face anything like it. She was a virgin until she met Cole. She was never put in a difficult position sexually. If she likes to hear talk like that, she’s allowed.

And she’ll never, ever know it makes me physically ill.

I thought she might have been worried about me because I was gone so late, but she’s clearly had other things to distract her.

When a few tears stream down my cheeks, I swipe them away impatiently. I’m not a crier. I haven’t really cried in years. Not since those early days when I was seventeen and had to hook up with one of the leaders of a militia group who attacked our shelter, killed my dad, and took us to work on their compound.

I cried back then, and an older woman told me I needed to try to steel myself like a soldier preparing for war.

I did what she said, and it helped for a while until I found a better way to deal with it.

I convinced myself it didn’t matter. It was only a man’s penis inside me. I’d pick out the men myself and avoid the ones who get off on violence. I’d act willing so they wouldn’t hurt me. I’d arrange it so that I only had to fuck one man at a time.

Even when the group of thugs snatched me up off the road last year, I pretended to be willing. I instinctively pinpointed the alpha of the group, and I offered myself to him, stoking his possessive instincts so he wouldn’t be tempted to share me with his men.

I’ve used my brains and my intuition and my body to keep as much control over my life as possible. Much of the time it wasn’t even traumatic. It was just life, and life in this new world will always suck.

But I’ve been freed of all that for almost a year now, and I’ve been mostly able to block out the memories. The visceral reminder of it back at the house hit me harder than expected.

That’s all it is.

It’s not about Del. Or even about Cole, although I hated the sound of his voice just now.

My reaction was all—only—about me.

And I’ll get over it soon and pretend it never happened.

At least no one else knows.

“You sick, love?”

My whole body jerks in shock at the mild question. The familiar English accent. The presence of someone else when I believed I was alone. I jerk my head to look over my shoulder. “No, I’m not sick.” I sniff a few times and wipe my face quickly with my hoodie sleeve so there isn’t evidence to the contrary of my claim.

He appears to have come from the direction of Monument. He takes a few more long steps over to where I’m sitting. He eyes me closely, his observant gaze missing nothing.

To my relief, he doesn’t argue or object. He doesn’t say anything at all, and his silence is unnerving.

“If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with,” I tell him. “And if you want a fight, you’re going to have to wait for another day. I’m not in the mood right now.”

“If I was going to kill you, I would have done it earlier.” He comes over and sits down next to me on the big rock. He’s closer than I’d like him to be but not touching me. “And I’m not here to fight.”

“How did you even find me?” Only now am I questioning his presence. If Aidan has a real home, I have no idea where it is. He definitely doesn’t live anywhere nearby, so the only reason he would be around Monument is to find me. But I’m not in town right now. No one knows where I am.

“I asked in town, and they directed me to your house. Stopped by, but your sister and her man were… occupied. So I waited for you.”

Shit. That means he heard them having sex too and was waiting around somewhere unseen when I arrived.

He would have seen me leave and run out of town. My mental state must have been clear to him. He would have followed me. Probably saw me throw up.

He would have witnessed me at my most vulnerable, and he’s the last person in the world I want to see that.

I brush away the mortification. I don’t have time or opportunity right now to process it. “Why are you here if you’re not looking for another fight?”

He’s not focused on me now. He’s staring out at the sun setting over the mountains in the distance in a blur of pinks and oranges. “This feud between us is serving neither of us. There’s work enough for us both.”

I stare at him open-mouthed. The absolute gall of the man. “I’m the one who said that to you, and you completely ignored me.”

“Because you implied we should compete for business. That’s impractical and counterproductive. I was hoping we could come to an agreement otherwise.”

I have no idea what he’s suggesting. He sounds light, casual, not deeply invested, but that’s his typical manner so I have no way to tell if he’s being serious right now or not. “What kind of agreement?”

“We split territory. I get everything north and west of Monument, and you get south and east.”

I stare again, stunned as I process what he’s suggested. “Are you being serious?” I ask in a hoarse whisper.

He frowns. “Yes. Of course. Surely it’s better than this constant conflict.”

“How gullible do you think I am? There’s nothing east of us but swampland and the flooded coast. Nobody lives there, which you know perfectly well. And everything south of us is threatened by that criminal stronghold. It’s much more dangerous traveling down there, which is why you’re now trying to foist it off on me. You’re pretending it’s a fair arrangement, but you’ve given me almost nothing.”

His mouth twists. “All right then. What kind of split do you suggest? I’m attempting to make peace.”

“Are you? Because it sounds like you’re trying to take advantage of me.”

“I just now asked you to make another suggestion.”

“You’re assuming I can trust anything you say.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” He looks almost—almost—offended.

“Why sh—?” I’m strangling on my outrage. “I’m not going to agree to a division of territory that leaves me with almost nothing, and I have no reason to trust you. If you weren’t so stubborn and territorial, we’d’ve come to a reasonable working relationship months ago. I’d rather not fight with you, but I’m not the one fanning the flames.”

I’m pleased that, despite my small breakdown earlier, my voice is clear and even. Unbreaking. I sound more confident than I feel. Aidan doesn’t have to know my weaknesses.

“And you’re arguing that undercutting me with James—on purpose, accepting half a fair payment—isn’t fanning the flames?”

“No. It’s not. It’s reasonable self-defense against the flames you already fanned.”

He rolls his eyes. His mouth curls in impatience. He’s back to being exasperated with me although not nearly as coldly angry as he was earlier today. “And that’s your final word?”

“What is? That I’m not willing to back down to your pushiness? That I won’t agree to a supposed compromise that can’t be trusted? If that’s what you mean, then yes, it’s my final answer. I’m not a hostile person—anyone who knows me will testify to that—but I won’t be bulldozed. And I won’t move merely because a man demands I do.” I meet his gaze bluntly.

His mouth twists, but now it looks more like resignation than impatience. “We should be able to do better than this, love. I never asked for us to be rivals.”

“I didn’t ask for us to be rivals either. Some people just butt heads no matter what they do.”

He shakes his head and stands up. He’s wearing old brown work trousers, a blue Henley, and a canvas jacket. His hair needs washing, and he’s got a few days’ worth of beard. There’s a smudge of dirt on one side of his jaw.

He shouldn’t still manage to be as good-looking as a movie star, but somehow he is.

It’s really the most aggravating trait of his, that despite everything he’s so undeniably attractive.

“So it’s still on between us then?” he asks, brushing off his ass and the back of his thighs from any stray dirt from the rock.

I stand up too, smoothing down the flyaways in my hair. “Yes. It’s still on.”

He makes another face before he walks away, heading back toward Monument.

It’s almost dark. He’ll probably spend the night there. Hopefully I won’t run into him again.

The only good thing about his appearance is that it distracted me completely from my breakdown about overhearing Del and Cole have sex. I shudder at the memory. The rhythmic banging of the bed. Del’s erotic cries. Cole talking her through it.

That’s an area of life that’s completely off-limits for me. I’m never going to have sex that wild and pleasurable. For me, it will always be tainted by the things I was forced to do in years past. All I want is to never have to fuck a man again for the rest of my life.

If I can get that much and retain my independence, then I can be content with the life I have.

I’m definitely not going to let Aidan get in the way of the decent future I can build for myself.

He might think he’s the center of the universe, but he’s not.

He’s not the main character of my story.

He’ll never be anything more to me than an obstacle to overcome.

3

FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS, I see and hear nothing of Aidan.

The break from him should be a relief, but it’s not. It bothers me. Nags at me. Frustrates me to have no idea what he’s up to or what he’ll try to maneuver next.

I mostly stick to Monument. I need to put some work in for the town to make up for my time away, so every other day I work a double shift to make sure no one has reason to complain about my contributions.

Monument provides food and protection for me and my sister and has done for years—even when we were basically helpless. It’s only right for us to do our part to assist the functioning of the town. I mostly do guard duty on the wall, and the only time I leave town in these two weeks is to run several messages to nearby towns and settlements.

Most days are peaceful and uneventful. And kind of boring. I’m restless. Even more than I used to be. I want to do something. Get out of here.

I love Del more than anything, but more and more it feels like she and Cole need a home of their own so they can be a couple and start their own family when they’re ready.

And me—I need to be somewhere else even if it means I’ll be alone.

I don’t say that to Del. It would wound her. Hurt her and make her feel guilty. Because we used to be a pair, all that the other needed. And Cole changed everything for both of us.

In the very few moments I indulge in self-pity, I resent that fact. Just a little. That he swept in and stole my sister away from me. Leaving me with no one.

No one.

But I only rarely let that unworthy thought even cross my mind. It’s not fair. I still have Del, and I always will.

Even though it will never be the same.

So I put in the work at Monument for two long weeks. I eat and laugh and hang out with Del, making sure she never picks up even a hint about how I’d prefer to be somewhere else.

The reality of living in the world post-Impact is that there’s realistically nowhere else to go. No other life to live.

Finally, on the Sunday at the beginning of the third week, I’ve put in enough time to allow myself to start off on another trip. I want to check in with James again. Hit a few more towns where I’ve made connections. Maybe try a couple of new communities. Get back on the road again.

I’ve never been by nature an early riser, but I always wake up with the sun when I’m traveling.

Today is Del and Cole’s day off, and they usually sleep in, so I said my goodbyes to them last night. I’m startled when, as I’m closing up my pack, Del’s voice sounds from behind me. “Please be safe while you’re out there, Breanna.”

My breath hitches from being taken by surprise, and I let out the breath slowly before I turn around with a smile. “You know me. I always am.”

“I used to think so, but I’m not so sure anymore.” Del’s brown eyes are sober. Faintly questioning. Her hair is a tangled mess around her face, and she’s wearing cozy fleece pajamas she snagged last year when someone brought back a huge load of scavenged clothes.

“That’s silly. I’m always careful.” I catch a flicker of a vision of me turning my back to Aidan’s aimed pistol. The rush of adrenaline at the risk. The uncertainty.

I’ll never tell Del about that though.

“But even when we’re careful, things still happen. You got taken last year.”

My spine stiffens, and I bite back a defensive response. Because the truth is I might have been able to get away from the men who kidnapped me off a mostly empty highway last year. I at least would have tried.

Had Del not been hiding just up the hill? Completely innocent. Completely vulnerable.

My main thought—my only thought—was getting those monsters away from her. It’s been years since I’ve been vulnerable or innocent the way Del was back then. She wouldn’t know how to survive through being captured the way I did.

I’d never have let it happen to her, so I allowed it to happen to me.

Not once have I ever blamed her for it—for any of the times I placed my body quite literally between her and any threat. And I never will.

But I also don’t want her to make it sound like my capture was a result of my own negligence.

“I’m sorry,” Del says quickly, evidently reading something on my face. “I know that was at least partly because of me.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I reply. “It wasn’t in any way because of you. But it also wasn’t because I wasn’t careful enough. Sometimes things happen because others are bigger and stronger than us. Because there are more of them. We can’t control that, but it doesn’t mean we have to huddle in fear and never take any risks or do anything we want to do. I can’t live like that, Del. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

She swallows hard. She’s emotional—I can see it on her face—but she’s trying to restrain it for my sake. “I know you can’t. I want you to live the kind of life you want. But sometimes it feels like you’re… you’re running away.”

I grow still. Have no idea how to answer that.

“And if you need to run, then you need to run. I’ll never blame you for that after everything you’ve had to do to keep me alive.” A couple of tears escape her eyes, despite her attempts to hold them back. She wipes them away impatiently. “You know what you need more than I do. But things changed when I got together with Cole, and I just don’t want you to be running away from… from me. Because of him.” Her whole body shudders with unreleased sobs.

“Fuck, Del, I’m not.” I reach out to pull her into a hug even though I’m not a touchy person anymore. I squeeze her tightly. “I’m not running from you. Not for any reason. I promise.”

Del shakes for a minute as she hugs me back, but then she pulls away with a wobbly smile. “Okay. Then do what you need to do.” She pauses, as if she’s hesitating about saying whatever’s next. Then she does. “Just know this. I know how much and how often you’ve had to sacrifice, how you’ve been forced to turn yourself inside out to keep me safe and happy. But I’ll never be that—never, not all the way—if you’re not safe and happy too.”

So that almost gets to me too. My eyes burn, and I can’t speak immediately. But I nod and smile at her.

Then I grab my bag and walk out the door.

I head for Sharpsburg first, and I’m pleased when James gives me another job—delivering a package to a town a few days’ hike away. The package is wrapped tightly, and he doesn’t tell me what’s in it, but I don’t actually care.

He offers me a barrel of dried corn in return for the completed job, and I’m not about to turn that down.

The package fits easily into my backpack so I can travel light. My route will take me past several other communities, so I can stop in and connect with them on my return journey.

It occurs to me I might encounter Aidan since I know he stops by Sharpsburg most Sundays, but I don’t see him. Not on my way there or on the first afternoon’s hike.

The world is large—even a region as unpopulated as this one—so it shouldn’t be surprising.

I make camp in the woods on the first night. It’s getting chillier, so I build a small campfire, and I eat bread and pork jerky after giving myself a quick cleanup in a creek.

The woods are eerily quiet. It’s so late in the year now that even the bugs have mostly silenced. My fire crackles, and I occasionally hear rustling in the trees from the scattered wildlife. But I’m not on a main road—just an old hiking trail—so there aren’t any other travelers or settlers nearby.

I sleep for a few hours, keeping my gun right near my hand in case of trouble. I keep on all my clothes and my shoes and make sure every one of my belongings is secured in my backpack along with the package in case I need to jump up and leave quickly. It would be better to stay awake, but if I want to continue, I need at least a little rest. But the problem is, when you’re asleep, you aren’t able to keep an eye out.

I wake up to the sharp awareness that someone is here.

Someone who shouldn’t be here.

I smell him before I even open my eyes. It’s the stout, natural scent of an active man who lives mostly outdoors. It hits my senses and brings with it the mental picture of the man who matches that scent.

Tall. Lean. Handsome. Vivid green eyes. Deep gold hair. Expressive mouth. Clever, dryly amused voice.

Aidan.

I grab for my gun as my eyes pop open, but I’ve barely gotten my fingers around it when it’s wrenched out of my grip and tossed several feet away.

He’s leaning over me, still reaching down. It takes less than a second for me to realize that he’s not reaching for me.

He’s going for my backpack.

He’s going to take the package James gave me to deliver.

Fucking selfish bastard. He won’t even let me have that.

I lever my arm back and thrust it forward again, tightening my fingers into a fist that lands against the side of Aidan’s jaw.

He jerks back slightly, and that gives me the opportunity to grab for my bag and stumble over toward my pistol.

I haven’t reached it yet when he’s on me again, grabbing for the strap of my pack and trying to push me away at the same time. I kick out at his ankles, connecting with one of them hard enough to make him huff and loosen his grip. Then I kick him again, this time higher. In the groin.

He grunts and doubles over.

Stretching my arm down, I reach for my pistol. I almost, almost shoot him, but the same instinct that stopped me a few weeks ago stops me again now.

I can’t seem to kill him. And even a more minor bullet wound—in the leg or in the shoulder—can easily turn deadly without medical attention because infection is such a risk.

He’s being physical with me now for the first time, but even now he’s not attacking me. He’s simply trying to get the package since he thinks it’s one more thing I stole from him.

So I don’t shoot. I holster the pistol, and before he’s managed to straighten up, I start back down the trail through the dark woods.

I run.

I assume my below-the-belt blow will only slow him down for a minute. Then he’ll be after me again. I doubt he’ll give up so easily. This matters to him as much as it matters to me.

If we end up in another physical fight, I’m not likely to come out ahead a second time. Because the reality is that he’s bigger and stronger than me. It was luck as much as anything else that allowed me to get away just now.

So I need to run.

And hope to get away from him in the dark woods.

After several minutes, I’m forced to pace myself, shifting from a dead sprint to a fast jog. If I keep going at that rate, I’ll collapse too soon, so I need to find as fast a pace as I can that will allow me to go a long distance.

I haven’t heard Aidan behind me yet, but I’m certain he’ll be there. He must have left his cart somewhere else because it wasn’t in sight back where I was camping.

I’m not sure how long I run, but it’s got to be at least an hour. The sun is starting to rise, visible through the thinning trees. The deep darkness is transforming to dim light and long shadows. My lungs burn and my legs ache, but I’ve still got enough breath to continue.

Surely eventually I’ll get to a place where I can turn off the trail or otherwise disguise my route from Aidan.

I come out of the woods at last into a broad expanse of hilly grassland. I see some flickering orange light behind one of the hills. Campfires. Someone must have camped there overnight. It’s still early morning, but they might already be awake.

I can’t risk heading in that direction since I don’t know who it is.

They’re as likely to be a threat to me as a help.

To avoid their camp, I swerve off the trail I’ve been following. Running through the high grass isn’t easy, but it’s safer than encountering dangerous strangers.

Even letting Aidan catch me is safer than that.

After a few more minutes, I’m aware of the sound of pounding footsteps behind me.

Someone running.

Damn it. He’s catching up to me.

I’m in good shape from all the walking I do, but I’m an average-sized woman and he’s a tall man.

His legs are longer, and there’s no overcoming that physical advantage.

He’s going to catch me.

Aidan must really be pouring on the speed because soon I hear him breathing—long, raspy gasps like mine. He’s almost reached me. I use the last ounce of my strength to speed up.

It doesn’t work. He must stretch out his arm to grab my backpack because I feel a tug of pressure on my shoulder straps. I wrench myself around with a loud, outraged exclamation, yanking the pack away from his grip.

My sudden move throws us both off-balance. I roll to the ground, and he can’t stop his momentum. He falls on top of me.

I push him away and try to scramble back to my feet, but he grabs for my braids, managing to get both of them in his grip. I kick back at him, trying to aim for his groin again but only managing to get his thigh.

He grunts. His expression is focused rather than angry, like the most important thing in the world to him right now is getting that package away from me.

My awkward kick isn’t terribly effective, but he does loosen his grip slightly, so I can yank my braids out of his hand.

I heft myself to my feet, my gasping breaths scraping in my sore throat, but Aidan grabs for one of my ankles and pulls me back down to the ground again.

I kick and punch as he moves toward me, but I can’t get enough leverage to make the blows hurt, and finally he’s on top of me. Holding me down with the weight of his body.

“Let me go, damn it!” I’m angry. Helpless. But more outraged than I am scared.

Hurting me isn’t Aidan’s purpose right now. He only wants the package.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you, woman?” he grits out, dirt and perspiration smeared on his face and a deep scowl in his expression. “Why won’t you just give up?”

“What’s wrong with me? You’re the one trying to steal from me. You think I’ll just give up? You think I won’t fight back?”

“I’m not stealing. I’m taking back what’s mine.” He shifts his weight to hold down my frantic squirming. When I manage to get an arm free and clobber him on the side of his head, he grabs that wrist and pins it to the ground. “You’re the one who stole from me. Over and over again.”

“I didn’t steal anything from you.” My heart is hammering, and my lungs and cheeks are on fire. I’m nearly spitting in my indignation, but I’m not scared.

I’m still not scared, not even as he’s holding me down helpless.

“We obviously disagree about that, but it doesn’t matter. Because I’m taking it back.”

A weird kind of excitement is pulsing through me—my mind, my body, my blood. It’s a kind of power. Exhilaration. And it makes absolutely no sense because Aidan is totally in control here.

But he’s roused. Intensely roused beyond that casual indifference he’s always worn like a mask.

And I’m the one who awakened him.

It shouldn’t matter to me. Not at all. But it does. The excitement throbs inside me. I can’t look away from his unrelenting gaze.

We stare at each other for a minute, and I’m honestly not sure what would have happened then. We never have the chance to find out.

Because a strong, female voice rings out into the cool morning, “Get off her. Now. Or you won’t live to touch another woman.”

Both Aidan and I freeze for a few moments—in surprise more than anything else—and then we both turn our heads at the same time toward the voice.

I’m expecting to see a woman. Probably with a gun. But what I see are many of them. At least two dozen. Women of various ages, sizes, and races. All of them holding weapons. Surrounding us.

A little flicker of awareness tells me that they probably came from those campfires nearby. The ones I was trying to avoid. I have no idea how so many of them approached us without making a sound.

Yes, we were distracted by the fight, but still…

It’s unnerving. Surreal.

“I said get off her.” It’s the same female voice, and it’s coming from a dark-haired woman standing a few steps in front of the others. She’s tall. Looks strong. Attractive in a striking way with flashing dark eyes and an utterly cold expression.

Aidan, always quick to assess who has the advantage, climbs off me immediately, remaining crouched in the grass with an observant cautiousness. When every single gun shifts to point at him, he lifts both hands out in front of him in the universal gesture of surrender. He doesn’t say anything.

“Are you injured?” the same woman asks, her steady gaze moving to me.

“No.” I’m winded. Exhausted. Probably suffering some bruises and scratches. But not seriously injured.

“Did he rape you?”

For some reason, the blunt question startles me. “No.” I dart a quick glance at Aidan and see he’s watching me now. I have no way to read his expression. “He wasn’t going to.”

“You’re sure of this?”

“Yes. He thought I took something of his, and he was trying to get it back.” Then I add out of self-preservation, “I didn’t steal it. He just thinks I did.”

“We don’t care if you stole from him. It won’t change our choices. We will kill him if you ask us to.”

Something freezes inside me. My mouth is dry. I look over at Aidan quickly. He’s still watching me. Quiet. Like he’s waiting.

“I don’t want you to kill him,” I manage to say, holding his gaze. “I don’t like him, but he doesn’t deserve that.”

“As you wish. But we won’t move on while he has any sort of advantage over you, so he must leave the area.” She looks back at Aidan, not angry but stone cold. “Now.”

Aidan doesn’t hesitate. He lifts himself up to his feet in a smooth move even though he’s still out of breath like me. He glances down at himself as if to assess his condition. His gun is still in his holster, and he’s got a big knife in another. He doesn’t reach for them. He had no pack with him. No possessions other than what he’s wearing. He must have left everything else with his cart.

He nods toward the woman who’s been speaking, as if acknowledging that she’s granting him a kind of mercy, and then shoots a quick look over toward me.

He doesn’t say anything. He starts walking. A few of the women move out of the way to make room for him to get through their perimeter. After a minute, he’s out of sight in the long grass, moving back toward the woods where we started.

Only then do I slowly stand up, wincing as the muscles stretch in my legs. I smooth down the loose strands in my braids. Look back at the leader of this group. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome. You were fighting well. We saw some of it. But men will always have an unfair advantage in this world, and our goal is to shift the balance.” She holsters her weapon. As soon as she does, all the other women around me do as well.

They’re very impressive.

“I’m Maria,” the woman says, stepping closer to me. She’s still not smiling, but she doesn’t look as hard as she did before. “You’re welcome to join us in our camp for breakfast if you’d like. Are you hungry?”

“I am hungry.” I smile at her. Then at the others. I’m still kind of shaken, but I want these women to know that I’m friendly. I definitely don’t want to go up against them. “Thank you. I’m Breanna. I’m assuming you’re not from around here. I’ve never seen or heard about you before.”

As we walk back to their camp, they answer my questions. They’re not from this region. They’re from farther west—working a region centered in what used to be central Kentucky. But they’ve been gradually traveling farther out, including through all of West Virginia. They’ve only gotten as far as Virginia a couple of times, but they’ve been hearing stories about a criminal stronghold and have traveled out this far to check it out.

I know exactly what they’re talking about.

As we prepare and then eat a delicious breakfast of roasted ham steaks and potatoes, I tell them everything I know about the former hotel a few days south of us that several gangs of thugs have turned into an armed fortress. I tell them about getting kidnapped last year and that the men who grabbed me were part of that community. They were taking me there when Del and Cole managed to rescue me.

Del and Cole went back to check the hotel out several months ago. Cole’s brother is there—voluntarily—and he still has hopes of saving him from that life.

Personally, I’d have no hopes for anyone who’s been part of that world for any length of time, but I can understand why Cole refuses to give up on his brother.

Maria asks a lot of questions, obviously taking mental notes and putting details together in her mind.

Eventually I realize that she’s actually intending to take down the whole stronghold.

I’m shocked. Astounded. Never in my wildest dreams would I expect a group of people from so far away to even consider laying siege on a place that’s only a threat to the immediate region.

Finally I have to come right out and say something. “I don’t understand. Y’all are from so far away. Why would you even…?” I trail off, not sure how to put the question into words.

She looks at me with faint confusion. “Because it’s what we do.”

Another woman—a softer, friendlier one named Rose—adds, “At first we only worked to keep our own territory safe, but it’s better developed now. The communities there do most of the work to maintain safety, so we can travel farther and help out other areas.”

“Oh. Okay. That makes sense. And it definitely looks like you know what you’re doing, but it’s going to take bigger numbers to take down that place. It’s huge.”

“Yes. That’s becoming clear,” Maria says. “But it doesn’t mean we won’t do it. It means we’ll have to rally more help.”

“I see.” It sounds so obvious when she articulates it, but none of the communities around here would ever dare to risk so much on such a huge target. “Well, when you decide to make a move, I’d like to help. I have more reason than most to want them gone.”

Maria nods. “We will be glad to have you. If you’d like to join us now, you’re also more than welcome. Many of us, like you, have suffered at the hands of men. What we do here is our answer to that.”

I swallow hard. “Thank you. And honestly I’m tempted to join you. I’ve been restless lately. Wanting to do something. Needing more. But having no clear sense of what that is. But I can’t join you immediately. I have…” My voice breaks strangely. “I have family in a town east of here. My sister. I can’t leave her without a word. I need to finish the job I’m on right now and get back to her. Talk to her and decide if… if joining y’all is right for me.”

“Of course. I’m glad to hear you still have family. Your sister is welcome to join us too if she’d like.”

I huff in amusement. “She has a man. She’ll never leave him.”

“Ah. Then that won’t work. We welcome any woman who wants to do good. But not men.”

I’ve already deduced that much. “But I can give you directions to get to that hotel they’ve taken over so you can scope it out and decide if it’s something you’re able to tackle. Then maybe I can catch up with you somewhere?”

“Yes. That will work. Can you show me on a map?” She gestures, and one of the women brings over a worn paper map book of the entire country. She flips through pages until she finds the one she wants, and then we both lean over to peer at it.

It takes a minute or two for me to orient myself, but I eventually find Monument on the map of western Virginia, and from there it’s easy to identify the established communities that still exist and the area south where the old hotel was located.

They’ll travel down to check it out and then head north to Monument. They’ll need to find volunteers to help if there’s any hope of bringing down the gangs, and that’s as good a place as any to start from.

I’m excited when I finally say goodbye to them. Hopeful in a way I haven’t been in ages.

Not just that Del and I can survive. Not just that we can stay safe and have a somewhat decent life.

But that I might be able to do something—take action—to right some of what’s wrong in the world.

I never believed it possible before.

4

TWO DAYS LATER, I’ve delivered the package and am on my way back. All I got in return for the package is a sealed note to pass on to James. I have no idea what it says. No idea what was in the package to begin with.

I feel a bit like a drug mule, but I honestly can’t imagine that anything in either the package or the note would be a problem enough for me to not want to deliver them.

People keep a lot of trades secret nowadays. If you get your hands on medication or batteries or seasoning for food, you stay quiet about it so someone else doesn’t come along and take it from you by force.

So I’m not particularly worried about being drawn into anything unethical. It’s not like I’d ever agree to work for or with those criminals in the mountain fortress.

Not like someone else I know.

I haven’t seen a glimpse of Aidan since Maria sent him away. If he’s following or tracking me, he’s being sneaky about it. And I honestly can’t think of any reason he would bother.

From his point of view, it probably made sense to take that package from me while I was sleeping. Then he could deliver it himself and cut off my access to Sharpsburg business. But he didn’t catch me again before I delivered it, and he may or may not even know that I have a letter to pass on in return.

Aidan is practical more than anything else. He’s not going to go far out of his way or use up a lot of time and energy on a task that isn’t going to net him a pretty good profit. His grudge against me surely isn’t enough of an incentive.

On my way back to Sharpsburg, I make a point to stop at every established community and settlement in the area, asking about jobs they might need doing. I don’t have a lot of luck since Aidan pretty much has a lock on this region, but I keep trying.

When I reach Sharpsburg, James appears pleased by my timely completion of the job. He gives me our agreed-upon barrel of corn and also a bonus of a set of clothes from their stockpile since I returned a day sooner than we agreed on. I pick out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt I think will fit Cole. It’s really hard to find stuff in his size, and everything he owns is threadbare.

James agrees to hold my earnings for me for a week so I don’t have to return to Monument immediately but also don’t make myself a mark for theft on the road for the next several days.

Then I head west into an area Aidan doesn’t travel so frequently.

The first settlement I aim for used to be a militia-held ranch. In the early years, militia groups were just as bad as the criminals, using violence to take whatever they wanted. But gradually this community has lost most of the truly violent types—they’ve either died or joined gangs or droves—and now it’s not much different than the fortified towns nearby. The people are unwelcoming and ingrown, but they aren’t actively dangerous.

I’ve talked to them a couple of times, but they’ve always said they prefer to take care of their own runs. But I decide it’s worth one more attempt since the compound is well-stocked and large enough to offer a lot of jobs if they’d ever be willing to accept outside help.

One of the guards recognizes me and waves me in without too much of an interrogation. The leader of the community is a woman in her fifties named Agatha. She’s got a prematurely wrinkled face and steel-gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, and she usually wears army fatigues.

She’s as hard as granite with a blunt manner and a quick intelligence.

I have to wait a couple of hours before I can see her. She’s either busy or pretending to be busy as a power play. I’m not surprised and don’t mind waiting.

I wait outside her office in the main building. I thought she was in there, but finally she walks in from outside and gestures me into the office without a word of greeting.

“You want work?” she asks, giving me a quick once-over. Agatha lives with a much-younger male partner, but the first time I met her she propositioned me for a one-night stand. She evidently has sex with anyone who catches her eye. I politely declined, explaining that I don’t have sex with anyone. She accepted this answer without question or pressure, so I haven’t been worried that she resents my refusal.

“Yes. I thought I’d check in again. I know y’all mostly take care of yourselves, but I figured sometimes there’s a run that you don’t want to risk your own people on.”

She nods. “I’ve actually got something. Was gonna give it to the hot Brit but no reason you shouldn’t get a shot at it too since you’re here.”

I freeze at her mention of the hot Brit. There’s only one person in this part of the world she could be referring to. “I didn’t realize you worked with Aidan.”

“We never have. But he stopped by yesterday asking about jobs. Seems competent. And he’s got arms that are a damn gift from God.”

“His arms are fine, and he is competent. But he’s also arrogant. He’ll charge you more because of it.”

“Yeah. I clocked his ego.”

“You’ll get a better deal on work with me.”

“He said he’d give us a discount if we used him exclusively.”

I tighten my lips.

Agatha’s sharp eyes miss nothing. “He out to get you?”

“He’s out to put me out of business, but he’s not going to succeed at that.”

“Men will always have an advantage. We might hate it, but it’s never going to change. But I don’t believe in accepting less just to give another woman a leg up.”

I stiffen. “You would not be getting less with me. He’s physically stronger, but making runs and deliveries is only occasionally about physical strength. I’m smarter, and I know all the shortcuts. I can get your jobs done just as fast as he can. Maybe faster. And I won’t up my rates after we’ve established a partnership the way he will.”

Her mouth softens just slightly, like she might be amused. “He’s really up your craw, isn’t he?”

“He’s not my favorite person in the world.”

“You didn’t let him fuck you, did you?”

“No. I definitely did not. And I’m also not going to let him fuck me over.”

“Smart girl. Okay. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ve got a job. At this time of year, it’s risky, and I don’t want to gamble on any of my own people to get it done. But since you and him both want a shot, we can make a deal. I’ll give you both the job, and whichever of you gets back with the loot first gets paid.”

“You want to make it a competition?”

“Living in this world is always a competition. Only the strong survive it, and the strongest come out on top. If we’re gonna work with outsiders, then it’s gonna be the best.”

I take a quick breath. I hate the idea of this—hate it—but it also gives me a real chance to make a lucrative connection that Aidan won’t have.

If I was telling her the truth, then I’m just as good at making runs as Aidan is. He has some advantages, but I have different ones. There’s no reason I can’t win this competition.

“Okay,” I tell her. “I’m game if he is too.”

Aidan is supposed to stop back by the ranch tomorrow, so Agatha tells me to spend the night. When he arrives, she’ll tell both of us what the job is. We’ll have the afternoon to prepare and make a plan, and then we can start at dawn the following day.

She seems to be enjoying the setup and thriving on the building tension. Why shouldn’t she? This is fairly low stakes for her. Basically a game.

It’s everything for me.

I make good use of my extra day. I wander around the entire compound, chatting with everyone willing to speak to me. I don’t actively flirt with any of the men because I don’t want anyone pissed if I don’t follow through or anyone annoyed I’m trying to take men away from them. But I’m friendly and smiling, and overall I think I make a pretty good impression on the people here.

The next day, Aidan shows up shortly after noon.

He’s clearly surprised when he’s summoned into Agatha’s office and I’m already there waiting for him.

He doesn’t say anything to me. Just eyes me warily. He’s no more enthused by the competition than I am, but he immediately agrees to it.

The smug asshole probably assumes I don’t have a chance of beating him.

Agatha finally tells us the job. There’s an old ski resort up a steep mountain a day and a half away. The food and supplies were salvaged years ago, but there was a wine cellar that caved in shortly after Impact. She suspects there are still bottles of wine there that have remained undamaged. We’re to travel there, dig out the wine cellar, come back with as much wine as we can carry.

The one who comes back fastest with at least eight bottles of wine will win the competition.

We can’t start off until tomorrow morning at dawn.

As we leave the office, Aidan turns to face me.

“This wasn’t my idea,” I tell him when he doesn’t do anything except look at me.

“I realize that. But you’re wasting your time if you’re thinking you can win.”

“There’s no reason I can’t do this as well as you can.”

He arches his eyebrows.

“That haughty look doesn’t work on me.”

To my surprise, his mouth twitches just slightly. “Yes. Sadly, I’ve already learned that.”

I have the brief desire to laugh but manage to suppress it. “So we can both try for this, and we’ll see what happens. Maybe after it’s over, you can leave me alone.”

“I’ve always wanted to leave you alone. You’re the one who insists on always poking at my boundaries.”

I scowl. “You can’t claim boundaries over the entire world and then get annoyed when people won’t accept them. If you’d ever be willing to make a fair deal with me, I’d be open to making peace.”

“I tried that. You refused to trust me.”

“Yeah.” I shake my head and turn away from him. “That does seem to be an insurmountable obstacle.”

The following morning, right as the sun is rising, I leave the compound and skirt the edge of the surrounding woods until I find an old hiking trail.

There’s been a lot of rain lately, so the ground will be muddy, but this route will cut off a significant amount of distance to the mountain, so I’m planning to take it. I spent an hour yesterday with a guy who helped me pore over maps of the region. He helped me plot my route, but I’ll only be able to manage the back trails if I don’t bring my cart. I can easily fit eight bottles of wine into my backpack, and I’ll move a lot faster that way anyway.

Aidan’s taking his cart, so he’ll have to stick to the larger roads. We left through the main gate at the same time but parted ways immediately to take our different routes. Hopefully, the advantage I’ll gain from taking the shortcuts will balance out the advantage he has with his longer legs, faster speed, and greater strength.

I’m excited as I start out. Full of energy. I used to run track when I was in school, and this feels like the morning of a championship meet.

I wonder if Aidan feels the same. He looked supremely confident this morning. He even gave me a wink as the gates opened.

The first leg of my journey is through the woods on a series of mountain trails, and it takes me until midafternoon. I stop only briefly to catch my breath and go to the bathroom. I eat and drink as I walk.

I see absolutely no sign of Aidan, but I wouldn’t expect to. The cold, damp morning shifts into an even colder, wetter day. My only solace is the canopy of trees over the trail that blocks a lot of the rain.

The hike goes up and down a series of hills, but gradually the landscape is getting higher, turning into mountains. As I ascend, the air gets colder and colder.

Pretty soon it’s going to be sleet or snow, and that likelihood shifts my invigorated mood into a dull dread.

Just my luck. My one chance to really prove myself, and I get hit by a snowstorm.

Of course, if I get stuck in the snow, Aidan will too, and he’ll have to deal with his cart, so I don’t let it bring me down too much.

By the evening, I’m in the mountains for real. The hiking trails I’ve been following have finally ended. The only way up and down these mountains is to follow the old roads unless I’m prepared to scale the sheer face of a mountain. I follow a narrow, winding road, and my pace slows significantly.

I keep going long after it turns dark until I’m finally too tired to continue. I find a shallow overhang that provides shelter from the weather, and I set up camp there, struggling to make a campfire with some slightly too-damp fallen branches. It’s a relief when I manage to conjure a smoky flame because the temperature has dropped dangerously.

I’d be in pretty bad shape if I had to last the night without any extra heat.

I get a few hours of restless sleep with my hand resting on my gun, and I feel like crap when I get up before dawn to start off again.

For all I know, Aidan kept going all night. I’m sure I must be ahead of him since I made such good time yesterday, and I can’t lose my lead to get more half-assed rest.

My hands and feet and cheeks are freezing, and every muscle in my body is aching as I start climbing again. It’s not currently raining or snowing, but the clouds are thick and low. The air is damp. The higher I climb, the frostier the broken pavement on the road becomes.

I haven’t seen a single soul since I parted ways with Aidan at the ranch. No one else but us is fool enough to be making this trek in this weather.

These mountains aren’t like the picturesquely wooded, gentle slopes around Monument. They’re taller, rougher, bleaker. It’s easy to see how this area was perfect for a ski resort, but I hate it. Ever since I left the gross, swampy coast, I’ve been used to a western Virginia landscape that’s pleasant, welcoming—with happy creeks, cozy trees, and knowable rhythms.

This is not any of that. And it feels like the dead of winter in late November.

It takes a brutal effort, but I keep trudging. The weather has slowed down my pace, but I should still reach my destination by midafternoon unless I run into trouble. According to my memory of the maps I studied, I should only have two more mountains to climb.

The second-to-last mountain is the highest. The road doesn’t go to the top—it winds around about halfway up. It’s easy to see that they had to blow out the rock face in order to lay the road, and over time the cliff surface above and below it has started crumbling. It’s barely walkable. I’m not sure how Aidan could possibly manage it with his cart.

The wind has been picking up as the day progresses, and at around noon, it starts to snow for real. Big, fat, wet flakes that quickly cover the sleeves of the coat they gave me at the compound since my own jacket wouldn’t have been warm enough.

I don’t let it stop me. Instead, I raise my hood and pick up my pace so I can reach shelter before the snow accumulates. After about an hour, I’m in a weird kind of daze, aware of nothing except each footfall on white-covered ground and the blur of blowing snow in front of me. Because I’m so out of it, I gasp when I take a step, and it suddenly feels like I’m stepping out into nothing.

I jerk back so abruptly that I fall backward onto my ass. There’s at least four or five inches of snow now, so my landing is cold but not too jarring. I’m already soaked to the skin, so sitting in the snow doesn’t alter my condition.

Staring out ahead of me, I squint through the whiteness of the snowstorm and realize the road crosses a bridge over a river to the next mountain. On the far side of that mountain should be the ski resort.

I’m almost there, but I have to cross that bridge first.

It was clearly a two-lane bridge, and at one time it was stable and well constructed with numerous supports and high guardrails. But time hasn’t been kind to it. The guardrails are mostly gone, and half the surface has broken off and fallen into the deep gorge below.

I’d never trust a car to safely pass over it, but I’m one woman. One lane of the bridge is still in place. It’s not swaying or wobbling, despite the wind. It’s not going to be any fun, but I’m not scared of heights. I see no reason the bridge can’t carry my weight.

So I take one step onto it. Bounce on my feet to test its security. The pavement doesn’t shift or crumble. It seems okay.

It will be a risk—of course it will—but this whole job is a risk. Leaving the safety of walls is a risk. Living is a risk in this world, and I’m not willing to dull my own flame for fear of being snuffed out.

Not anymore.

So I take a deep breath of freezing cold air and keep walking.

And it’s fine. It’s all fine. My footing is slick from the snow but otherwise secure. And it’s unnerving without any guardrails or anything to hold on to, but I look ahead of me instead of down. I make pretty good progress considering.

Until I get toward the middle of the bridge and the wind picks up.

Away from the protection of the mountains, the wind is much, much stronger. A gust hits me with the force of a train and knocks me over.

It literally knocks me over.

I fall sideways, and the bridge has gotten narrower, so I grapple to hold on to something—anything—before I slip right over the side and fall into the gorge.

It’s touch and go for a few seconds until I grab for a jagged piece of pavement and hold on.

My heartbeat doesn’t slow for a long time. I’m frozen in a panic in an awkward sprawl with my face barely lifted above inches of snow. I can’t assess my condition until the adrenaline levels. Then I decide I’ve pulled a couple of muscles and I’m literally freezing, but otherwise I’m uninjured.

So I try to get back up on my feet.

I can’t.

I don’t know why, but I simply can’t. I can barely let go of the broken piece of pavement I’m still clinging to.

The wind is still roaring above me. If I stand up, it will knock me over again. And next time I’m absolutely certain I’ll fall.

But I also can’t stay here. I’ll freeze to death. As it is, even with thick gloves, my hands are getting numb.

Maybe it doesn’t matter. Life has never been kind to me. I’ve had to put up with the unthinkable and convince myself it wasn’t that bad. Maybe it will be easier when it’s over—if I never have to force myself up to my feet ever again.

My parents used to take us to Sunday school. I remember learning about heaven. Eternal peace and rest. As a child, it sounded boring to me, but now it’s like a dream. It’s all I want. Peace. The burden of living finally lifted.

Maybe it’s my time—up here in the snowy mountains alone.

I think about Del and how she’ll feel if I never come home. She’ll make Cole take her out to search for me. They’ll follow my trail. And probably never find my body. She’ll spend the rest of her life wondering.

I think about Aidan and how pleased he’ll be if I fail.

I still can’t stand up, but I start to crawl.

It’s agonizing. Every inch is terrifying since the wind never lets up. I do make some progress, but it’s slow.

I’m about two-thirds of the way across the bridge when I can finally see the other side. It’s not that far. Surely I can make it. With a new surge of will, I push myself back up to my feet. Take four steps before an even stronger gust of wind pushes me forward.

My feet slip in the fresh snow, and I fall forward, barely catching myself with my hands just in time before my face slams into the bridge.

I’m stunned and winded again. Frozen in place as I try to catch my breath.

I’m so out of it I don’t hear anything behind me even though I should. The first sign I have of another person’s presence is when strong hands reach down to lift me back up to my feet.

I squeal in astonishment but am fortunately too weak to struggle in the grip.

“Damn it, love, it’s me. Don’t you dare jerk away.” The voice is grumpy. Loud to be heard over the howling wind. And familiar.

I turn my head and blink up at him. Aidan. Looking as tense and fierce and snow-covered as a yeti. “You’re here?”

Yes, that’s what I say. In a ridiculously wobbly voice.

“Yes, I’m here. Why both of us haven’t given up this nonsensical contest is beyond me. But here we are. Equally brainless. Come on. We need to get across.”

I have no idea what’s happening and no idea why I’m so relieved to see him. Without any protest from me, Aidan pulls me backward, bringing me with him as he moves back behind his cart. He places both my hands on the handles and then positions his on either side of them so he’s directly behind me, sheltering me with his bigger body.

“Push, love.”

I push. And so does he. If I was thinking better, I’d be nervous about the added weight of his cart, but it actually helps. Provides an anchor against the wind. I hold on, and blocked by Aidan’s body, I’m no longer at risk of being blown away.

We make it across the bridge in a few minutes.

As soon as my feet hit more solid ground, I’m so relieved I almost cry.

I don’t, of course. I wouldn’t anyway but definitely not in front of Aidan.

“Thank you,” I tell him. He might always be a smug asshole, but he also probably saved my life.

And now I have no idea what to do. I want to stick with him since it will be so much safer, but I can’t imagine he would want that.

“We’re not out of this yet. Why don’t we find shelter and wait out the storm, and then we can return to hating each other after our lives aren’t actively at risk?”

I make a weird sound. Half laugh, half sob. “That sounds like a good plan.”

He nods, his face barely visible beneath his blowing hair, the scarf he has pulled up over his mouth, and the caked snow. “Good. It’s a deal then.”

We start going again, both of us pushing his cart, but side by side rather than with him behind me like on the bridge. At first the road is better than on the previous mountain, curving around at only a slight incline. We stay far away from the drop on one side and use the protection of the mountain to our advantage.

But eventually the road begins a steeper incline. Much steeper than anything we’ve had to deal with yet. We have to exert more force to keep pushing the cart up. It becomes crystal clear to me that he’d never get this cart up without my help, so at least I know I’m helping him as much as he helped me.

I’ll take his help to save my life, but I’d rather not feel like I owe him.

We don’t talk at all, except some curt instructions to navigate the difficult terrain.

I’m not sure how long we’ve been going when Aidan says, “Look. There’s a church up there where the road levels off. It looks like it’s still standing. Why don’t we stop there for a while? The weather is getting worse, and we’ll get frostbite for sure if we keep going in this cold.”

I can barely feel my hands and feet. My cheeks and lips are burning. “That sounds good to me.”

With a destination in sight now, we find more energy and push the cart together more forcefully, moving at a faster pace. I’m relieved—weirdly excited—that we’re actually going to make it when the ground beneath my feet suddenly shifts.

The snow was covering several feet of unstable loose rocks, and my footfall disrupts it. My foot slides back fast and awkward, and I would have fallen on my face if I wasn’t holding on to the cart.

As it is, I wrench my shoulder trying to catch myself, and my left knee lands hard on the ground, twisting something in my leg that hurts so much I cry out.

Aidan lets go in an automatic instinct to catch me but has the sense to grab the cart again before it starts rolling backward onto us.

I try to stand up, pain filling my head and clouding my vision. But I can’t. My left leg won’t hold me up. It hurts so much it feels like the blood has all drained from my face. I get dizzy.

“Fuck!” My exclamation is soft but full of feeling. I was doing so good. We were almost there. Now there’s no way in hell I’ll ever win this challenge.

And there’s a good chance I won’t come down off this mountain alive.

“You can’t walk?” Aidan asks.

I shake my head, trying to pull myself to my feet again. This time I manage to get upright but only by putting all my weight onto my right leg.

I’m trembling helplessly, nearly blacking out from the fear and shock and pain.

Aidan stands next to me, none of his distinctive features visible except his vivid eyes. They move from me to his cart and then back to me.

There’s no way he can get both me and the cart to the church.

He’s not going to leave his cart behind. He never goes anywhere without it. In it is everything he owns in the world.

And he has no ties of loyalty or responsibility to me. He doesn’t even like me. He’ll be glad if I’m out of his hair for good.

It’s not going to be even a question for him. He won’t struggle over this decision.

Maybe I can crawl my way there.

He makes a rough, helpless sound. I can’t see his expression. Then, as expected, he gently pries my fingers off the handle of his cart.

My knee immediately buckles, and I fall down into the snow.

He pushes his cart away with a strong heave.

He’s leaving me. Of course he is.

I’m not entirely sure, but I might have done the exact same thing if I were in his position.

I watch in a weirdly calm haze as he moves away from me. But then he does something strange. He turns the cart, edging it up against the sheer mountain face beside the road, lodging it in a shallow indentation.

He shakes it a few times, as if testing its security. Then he grabs his go-bag out of the cart and turns around and comes back to me.

I stare up at him in breathless bewilderment. I have absolutely no idea what he’s doing.

“Come on, love,” he says, reaching down for me. “We’ve got to get to that church.”

“Wh-what?”

He shakes his head. “You really do think I’m a monster, don’t you?”

I don’t have an answer for him. I still don’t understand what’s happening. Even after he grabs me by the waist with both hands and pulls me up to a standing position. I do manage to keep the weight off my left leg.

I think he’s going to position me beside him and offer me support so I can limp, but he doesn’t. “You won’t like this, but I need both hands, so we’ll have to do it this way.”

“What way?”

He hefts me up with a grunt and drops me over one of his shoulders.

Then he starts carrying me up the mountain.

“Aidan,” I gasp, still shocked and unbelieving. I’m awkward and uncomfortable and utterly helpless.

“Hush, love. This isn’t exactly easy. You’re no featherweight.”

I gasp again. “Asshole.”

He chuckles rather breathlessly and keeps walking.

I don’t say anything after that because I can hear and feel how much effort he’s exerting—not just to walk up the steep slope in the snow but to carry me at the same time.

I try to think of something I can do to help him, but there’s nothing. So I stay perfectly still and tolerate the helplessness.

It feels like it takes forever, but in reality it’s probably no more than fifteen or twenty minutes before he’s turning in to what used to be a driveway leading to the church. I crane my head around so I can see.

It’s small. Stone. Traditional with a simple structure and a tall steeple.

He tries the front door and it’s unlocked. Unlocked.

He pushes it open, and the world is suddenly darker and calmer and quieter as we’re out of the storm. He carefully lowers me onto the floor. He’s gasping desperately, painfully. He bends slightly at the waist, trying to catch his breath.

I stare up at him, and he doesn’t look away.

I have no idea what I can possibly say.

5

I THINK I must have passed out.

It’s either that or else I fall into a weird frozen daze. I’m aware of huddling on the floor, soaked and freezing and disoriented and staring up at Aidan. Then I’m not aware of anything at all.

There’s a fire.

That’s the next thing I can focus on. Waves of warmth radiating out toward me. I hear it crackle. See flames flicker when I squint between my eyelashes.

I thought we were inside. In a church. I have no idea why there would be a fire here.

Maybe lightning struck and the whole place is burning now. Like Sodom and Gomorrah blasted from on high for their sin. Maybe Aidan and I will burn to a crisp in the middle of a snowstorm.

The idea makes perfect sense to me.

It feels inevitable.

“Need a hose to put the fire out,” I mumble since one of us should make at least a gesture toward keeping us alive.

I really don’t want to get burned up.

There’s a weird throaty sound. I have no idea what it means. Then Aidan’s mild voice. “I don’t think so, love. I went through hell to get it lit. Let’s get you closer. You need to warm up.”

“Don’t wanna burn up.”

“I won’t let you burn.” He’s moving now.

My body is being lifted. I don’t struggle since the hands aren’t rough or violent. When I’m set down again, it’s closer to the fire. I can feel the heat wafting toward me. I lean closer, wanting it. Needing it.

Hands on my shoulders hold me back. “Not too close. I promised I wouldn’t let you burn.”

“Oh. Okay.” I sit still.

He moves in front of me, kneeling to pull off my wet gloves and dripping jacket. Then the hiking boots I’m wearing. He has to unlace them first.

He rubs my hands, which seems strange to me since Aidan doesn’t touch me. I let him. I have no reason not to.

It doesn’t feel bad. Just kind of tense. Stressful.

When I can feel my hands again, he moves and does the same with my feet. For some reason, it almost embarrasses me, but I can’t understand why.

It takes a few more minutes for my mind to clear enough to realize what’s going on. Remember where I am, what’s happening, and who I’m with.

“I’m okay,” I say.

Aidan has been focused down on my feet, but now he lifts his eyes to meet mine. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I can feel my feet now.”

His posture relaxes almost imperceptibly. “All right. That’s good then.”

I glance past him and realize the fire isn’t actually freely blazing in the middle of the church like I imagined earlier. It’s in an old cast-iron woodstove, which evidently used to be this church’s main method of heating. It’s positioned near the back of the sanctuary.

It’s old-fashioned and not very big, but the church itself is quite small. The heat it generates is already breaking through the frigid temperature in the building.

“Was there actually wood here?” I ask—rather irrelevantly.

“Nah. Had to improvise.” He nods to his right, where I see the broken remains of an old wood table. He somehow managed to break it into pieces with his bare hands.

I giggle.

He leans closer, peering at me with close scrutiny.

“I’m okay,” I say again. “Not at my best, but I think I’ve basically recovered from that frozen daze.”

“All right.”

“Thanks for your help.”

He shrugs and glances away.

“Don’t shrug it away. You saved my life.”

His face is deeply flushed from the cold and the wind and the blaze of the fire, but the look he gives me now is oddly cool. “And you’re still surprised by that fact.”

I swallow. Feel kind of guilty. But I’m not sure why I should feel guilty. Anyone might be surprised after the way he’s acted for the entire time I’ve known him.

The interaction feels weird and uncomfortable, and I don’t like feeling that way. So I change the subject. Focus on what’s more essential.

“I wonder if we can find blankets or old clothes or something here. We’re both still wearing our wet clothes, and we need to get out of them if we’re ever going to warm up.” I start to heft myself up until a sharp tug of pain makes me gasp.

I forgot my damned injured leg.

“You’re not going anywhere right now,” Aidan says as he stands. “I’ll see what I can find.”

I watch as he walks down the center aisle of the main room. The sanctuary is set up with about a dozen wooden pews on both sides of the aisle. A pulpit and table at the front along with two pews for a choir below a big cross. There’s a round stained glass window in the back and very narrow plain windows along both sides. All of them are still intact. They haven’t been broken by time, weather, or vandalism. There’s a door in the front on the right, and that’s where Aidan disappears.

I scoot closer to the stove as I wait. He didn’t close the small door of the stove yet, so I can see the flames flicking inside. I’m pretty sure I would have frozen to death if Aidan hadn’t managed to start that fire.

It’s been a few minutes when he returns through the same door he disappeared into. He’s carrying an armful.

I straighten up excitedly as he approaches and then sets down what he’s found.

A couple of thick red table coverings that look fancy. Almost ceremonial. They’ll work as blankets. Two black clergy robes. A few long velvet pew cushions. A large jug of water.

“Oh wow, water. That’s an unexpected bonus.”

“Yeah. Not sure what it was used for. But at this point, we’d even drink holy water.”

“That’s for sure. But I think this must have been a Protestant church since there’s a pulpit up there instead of an altar. So we’re probably safe from sacrilege. Are we really going to wear these robes?”

Aidan shrugs. “It’s all we have other than our wet clothes. But it’s up to you.”

“We’re never going to feel warm and dry if we don’t get out of these clothes, so we probably should.”

“Agreed.” He hands me one of the robes and then leans over to start prying off his shoes. “Can you manage, or do you need help getting undressed?”

I give him a little glare although from his tone it’s obvious he’s teasing. “I can manage.”

He shoots me a half smile before he turns his back to me.

It’s actually harder than I expect to peel off my wet jeans without putting weight on my bad leg. It takes some uncomfortable contortions, but I manage. Then I pull off my sweatshirt, T-shirt, socks, bra, and panties, since all of it is soaked through. I pull on the robe. It’s thick and heavy and way too big, but it covers me completely and is a lot more comfortable than my wet clothes.

“I’m covered,” I tell Aidan. I’ve turned to face away from him to give him the same privacy he’s given me.

“Me too.”

We both turn around and inspect each other.

Aidan chuckles. “We look like we’re on our way to the perviest graduation ceremony ever.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. “Oh well. At least we have something dry to put on. We should lay out our clothes in front of the fire so they dry.”

We do that. Then arrange the cushions and blankets so we each have a place to sit and lie down. Aidan fills up his canteen and the bottle I use for water from the jug.

We check our bags to see what food we have available. Between us, we have a loaf and a half of bread, three potatoes, and quite a bit of dried fish and pork jerky.

“This should last us a couple of days at least,” I say. “Surely by then the storm will have passed and we can get back down to your cart.”

He nods. “Let’s hope so. Until then, we’re stuck here.”

“I guess it could be worse.” I sigh, looking around. Just my luck. Trapped in a church on the top of a mountain with the most annoying man in the world.

He’s being less annoying than usual at the moment, however. Maybe he’ll keep reining in his obnoxiousness until we get out of here.

“The main inconvenience will be going to the bathroom,” I add as I’m suddenly conscious of needing to pee.

“I guess we can step outside,” he says, frowning as he thinks this through.

“You can. But squatting with my ass in the snow isn’t exactly ideal for me, especially with a bad leg.”

He chuckles at that. “True. I suppose we can find a pot.”

I groan softly, but I don’t complain. Ever since almost everyone lost power and plumbing after Impact, we’ve had to use the bathroom in all kinds of awkward and embarrassing ways.

If you have no other choice, you make do.

That happens to be true of all of life. I’ve learned that better than most.

The afternoon is long and uneventful.

Once he’s warmed, Aidan gets up to make a more thorough search of the church. On the lower floor, there’s a small meeting room and a kitchen and bathroom. He finds an unopened pack of two paper towel rolls and a few stray cans of food in the cabinets. Beans and stewed tomatoes, like they were left over from making a big pot of chili. They’re extra food for us, however, so he brings them up.

He breaks up a couple of straight-backed wood chairs for extra wood for the fire.

He also finds a big pot for me to use the bathroom in.

It’s definitely embarrassing, but at least he leaves the room without me asking. If I could walk on my own, it wouldn’t be a problem because I could dispose of it outside myself, but I can’t. So Aidan has to.

The whole thing makes me want to cringe.

I get over it. He doesn’t complain or act like it bothers him. And we absolutely have no other choice.

Other than that, we have nothing to do for the rest of the afternoon. If I don’t move it the wrong way or try to put weight on it, my leg doesn’t hurt. The cushions Aidan found are a lot more comfortable than the hard floor. And the fire is blazing cozily now.

Aidan settles onto his own cushions several feet away from me. His robe is too short for him, and he’s obviously naked beneath it. Just like me. The incongruity of his appearance makes me want to snicker occasionally, but I refrain.

He’s been more than decent with me today. I’m not going to make fun of him.

With nothing else to divert my attention, I’m eventually so tired and comfortable I drift off to sleep.

It feels like I’ve slept for a long time when I become conscious of a voice. A light hand on my shoulder, shaking me gently. “Breanna. Breanna, love. Can you wake up?”

I try to pry my eyelids open. “Huh?”

“Can you wake up?”

It takes real effort, but I manage to blink several times and focus on Aidan’s face above me. He’s leaning over my makeshift bed. The green of his eyes look dark and deep. “Is somethin’ wrong?” I mumble.

“No. You were so sound asleep you wouldn’t wake up, and I got worried.”

“Oh.” I frown in confusion and rub my face. “You were worried?”

“It was touch and go with you earlier when you were half-frozen. Doesn’t take much in those conditions for someone to drift off and never wake up. So when you wouldn’t wake up just now, I figured I better check.” He sounds slightly wry. Rueful.

But I realize he was genuinely worried about me. That recognition overcomes any annoyance I might feel at being awakened unnecessarily.

“I’m okay.” I push myself into a sitting position as Aidan backs off. “I’m not sure what happened. I never sleep that deeply.”

“I didn’t think so. But it’s been a rough day.”

“That’s for sure.” I let out a sigh as I lean against the wall, pulling the table covering I’m using as a blanket up over my shoulders. I’m not cold anymore since the fire is still blazing, but I’d rather be covered fully.

I feel weirdly exposed with Aidan right now, and I’m not used to it.

Even when I was having to fuck men to survive, it didn’t feel like this.

“It’s getting late anyway,” he says in that casual voice he’s been using all afternoon. “We could have something for dinner if you’re hungry.”

“I am. Dinner sounds like a good idea to me.”

We heat up a can of beans and eat it with some bread and jerky. It’s nothing special, but the beans are hot and canned in chili sauce so they’re more flavorful than our regular food. The meal is filling. I drink a lot of water since we have extra.

It’s dark outside now. The only light is from the woodstove and several candles that Aidan must have found and lit while I was asleep.

I have to pee again, so we go through that indignity once more. Then I wash my hands and face with a damp paper towel and the soap in my pack. I pull my braids out and comb my hair, deciding to leave it loose for now since I won’t be doing anything strenuous or active anytime soon.

Aidan has been doing his own nighttime prep. He even shaves with a straight-edge razor and no mirror, which is an impressive feat as far as I’m concerned.

He’s still wearing the robe like I am. There’s no reason not to sleep in them. Our clothes should be fully dry by tomorrow morning. I do pull on the spare pair of panties I keep in my pack so I’m not totally naked beneath mine.

Then we’re ready for bed.

I lay back down on my cushions. Pull the blanket up over me.

Aidan blows out the candles and adds a couple of pieces of wood to the fire.

The room is dark with just the firelight flickering. It’s eerie. Oddly surreal. Like the two of us are all alone in the world.

We’re silent for several minutes. All I can hear is Aidan’s steady breathing and the occasional crack from the fire.

He must know I’m not asleep because he finally says, “How old were you at Impact?”

People used to exist by calendar years and measure their lives by dates. Now the only landmark in time that matters is the day the asteroid crashed into our planet.

Eight years ago. Not really that long. But everything that came before seems like a separate lifetime. Like it must have happened to someone else.

“I was seventeen. I was a senior in high school. Deciding on a college.”

“I bet you were one of the popular girls.”

If he sounded mocking, I wouldn’t have answered truthfully, but instead, he sounds almost warm. “I had plenty of friends. I ran track, and the rest of the team was my group. I guess there were guys who were interested in me, but none of them were the ones I had my eye on, so I didn’t actually date all that much.”

“No?”

“No. I went to school dances and out to movies and whatever with the others, but the guys I went with were more friendly than romantic. The guys I really liked never liked me back.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Have you seen yourself? You’re gorgeous. Downright stunning. Surely even teenagers could see it.”

My cheeks warm, which is silly because he’s obviously not making a move on me. His comment was matter-of-fact. Like a statement of fact rather than a personal opinion. “I don’t know. I think I’m better-looking now than I was back then, but I also didn’t have a lot of confidence when I was a teenager. I never really thought of myself as pretty. I didn’t mind my red hair, but I didn’t like my freckles, and I never thought I was skinny enough.”

“Why would any man want you to be skinnier?”

I let out a breathy laugh, confused and slightly anxious. He’s never behaved like he thought I was attractive before, but now he’s acting like it’s self-evident. “I don’t know. I was seventeen. And girls of my time were taught from the cradle that being model-thin was the ideal. Anyway, for whatever reason, I never had a high school boyfriend. I always assumed I would when I got to college, but then it was Impact, and boyfriends were the last thing on my mind.”

“Where was your family living then?”

“In Norfolk. We didn’t move inland immediately. We heard all the warnings, of course, but we didn’t have any family in a safer location. We didn’t have anywhere to go. So we stayed through the first hurricanes. Until the tidal surge finally flooded our house. Then we drove to Charlottesville where we stayed in an emergency shelter.”

“You and Del and your parents?”

“Yeah. Del is two years younger than me. My mom was pregnant with a surprise baby.” I’m not sure why I’m telling Aidan all this, but the personal conversation feels natural—essential—in the darkness and stillness of the night.

“So what happened to them?”

“A militia group attacked the shelter. My dad tried to help defend it. He was killed. We got shuffled back to their compound with the rest of the survivors. My mom and Del were made to work.”

Aidan has been lying on his side, propping his head up on one bent arm. Right now he’s completely motionless. Silent.

I know what he’s waiting for. So I tell him. “One of the leaders of the group took a liking to me. So my job was to fuck him.”

There’s a kind of tension to Aidan’s silence that bothers me. A lot.

“It could have been worse,” I continue. “He was youngish, and he didn’t get off on pain. I got clothes and better food and a more comfortable place to sleep.” I let out a breath and add in a softer voice, “I would have rather done manual labor with Del and my mom.”

“I’m sure.” He pauses. “Had you had sex before?”

“No.”

“How long were you there?”

“Maybe six months? My mom went into labor early, and both her and the baby died.” I can say this without breaking down. I haven’t cried over the loss in a long time. “Then the compound was attacked by some sort of gang. In the chaos, I found Del and some of us got away. We traveled for a while, and then the group settled in a town that still had some salvageable supplies and provisions. We lived there for a couple of years.”

“How many of you were there?”

“There were about thirty to start with, but more people found us and settled there too, so there ended up being fifty or sixty. The, uh, guy in charge was pretty bossy. He liked to order people around. We all had jobs to do.”

“And your job?”

“My job was to fuck him. He was worse than the first guy. He didn’t physically harm me, but he liked to be dominant.”

“What did that look like?”

Aidan doesn’t sound curious or perversely interested in hearing dirty details. He sounds chilly. Stern. Almost angry.

He’s not angry at me. I understand that much. And somehow his cold disapproval of the men who used me is a strange comfort. An acknowledgment that it was wrong.

“He wouldn’t just get it over with like the militia guy. That guy mostly just wanted to get his rocks off and roll over to sleep. This one wanted me to get aroused. To beg. He’d demand blow jobs at any time of the day, even in front of other people. He liked to spank me. He’d get off whenever it turned me on. He strung me along. Sometimes I tried not to come because I knew he wanted it, but I couldn’t always help it.”

I can’t believe I just told Aidan that. I’ve never told anyone. Not even Del. The mortifying knowledge of how hard I’d sometimes come for that man—unwillingly—makes my face burn even now. He put the effort into learning my body so he could use it against me.

“It wasn’t rape,” I blurt out. “I offered myself to him. I just didn’t… want it. But it was still my choice.”

“A choice made when the other option is to die isn’t a real choice.” His voice now is even colder than the snow outside.

“No. It’s not. But some things are better than others. I managed to find men who would take care of me and my sister. If I had to fuck them in order for this to happen, it was still better than dying. Or being taken by force.”

“Yeah. I understand that. You did the best you could. A lot better than most.” Aidan clears his throat. Shifts slightly. “I thought Del told me you and she came from the coast.”

“We did. The guy I was fucking was killed, and the one who took over there was a lot worse. He liked to hurt people. I knew immediately we couldn’t stay, so I got Del and we ran. We came across another group of survivors on the road. They were heading for the coast, thinking it might be safer, so we went with them. We ended up at the ocean. The hurricanes had died down by then, but it was still really flooded. We found some boats so we could fish and discovered an old beach hotel that was still standing, rising out of the water. We lived there for a couple of years.”

“Did you have to fuck someone then too?”

“Yes. Maybe they would have let us stay without it, but we didn’t have a lot to offer, and I wasn’t going to take the chance. So I fucked the leader there too. He wasn’t nearly so bad. He was in his fifties and didn’t have a lot of energy. It was mostly some brief thrusting at night—I’d talk sweet to him and tell him what a big man he was—and otherwise he didn’t bother me.”

“And that’s when Cole got you both out of there?”

“Yes. Our group was attacked, and Cole got us out and took us to Monument. We had a couple of good years there before…” I drift off, suddenly reluctant to give Aidan even more to be angry about.

But he already knows this part. “That’s when you were kidnapped.”

“Yes.”

“How much did they… hurt you?”

“Not as much as you’re probably thinking. That was just last year, and I’d learned by then how to handle men. I quickly identified the alpha and offered myself to him. Encouraged him to be possessive so he wouldn’t want to share me.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he murmurs, “Smart.”

Ridiculously, it makes me feel better. “So at least it was just the one guy. He was rough and… and gross. But he was also not really bright, so I was able to manipulate him. And it was less than two weeks before Cole and Del were able to get me out of there.”

“Were you expecting that?”

“No. I went with the gang willingly to get them away from Del. I didn’t think she’d have any idea what happened to me, so I never expected to be rescued. I kept looking for a chance to run away. Eventually I probably would have gotten it since the guy was stupid enough to think I was into him. But I hadn’t gotten an opportunity yet, and then I didn’t need one. Del and Cole found me first.”

It feels strange talking about all this with Aidan. With anyone. It’s always been something I keep locked up tight inside me, only very rarely cracking the door enough for me to even think about.

Life is about enduring. I feel like I’ve done a pretty good job of it so far. But the only way I can keep going is to not brood or stew on everything I’ve had to walk through to get to where I am right now.

So it feels dangerous. Like I’m nakedly exposed. But it’s somehow easier—more inevitable—that I tell someone who doesn’t care for me personally. Telling Del would break her. Even telling Cole would be dumping on him a burden he doesn’t deserve.

But all this won’t be a burden to Aidan. At least not one he’ll ever choose to carry.

But he’s listening. We’re in this weird little bubble right now—surrounded by an impenetrable snowstorm. He’s hearing me. And for some reason it feels better, needed, to have someone else acknowledge what life has required me to endure.

He’s silent for a long time. Until he finally asks, “Have you ever been with a man because you wanted it?”

I work my jaw, trying to land on an answer. “It depends on what you mean. Two of the guys I was with were by choice—because fucking them was better than the alternative. And it sometimes felt like I wanted it. I would literally beg for that second guy to touch me, to make me come. Like I said, he liked to work me up. If you’d asked me at certain times, on certain days, I would have said I wanted to be with him.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His voice is rougher now. I’m staring up at the vaulted ceiling so I can’t see his expression.

“I know,” I say with a resigned sigh. “I know that’s not what you meant.”

“So maybe you can answer the question for real.”

Something rebellious inside me rises up in resistance at the demand in his tone. But I could have ended this conversation anytime I wanted. I could have never let it get started. I’m admitting the truth of my experiences to him on purpose. Because maybe finally they need to be spoken.

And I’m not finished yet.

“No,” I blurt out over a tense lump in my throat. “No. I’ve never been with a man because I freely wanted to be.”

The raw words linger in the air of the sanctuary. Shuddering silently before they dissipate. Fade into nothing.

Aidan doesn’t reply. He’s still stretched out on his makeshift bed, and his presence feels tense, although I’m still not looking in his direction, so I can read no details in his expression or posture.

Finally I can’t stand it anymore. “But I’m not some sort of victim. I made choices at every step of the way. I took control of anything I could and used every resource I had at hand, including my own body. Everyone has had to do hard things to survive. You don’t get to start thinking about me like a victim.”

“I’m not thinking about you like a victim,” he says, his tone soft and mild again. “I’m impressed.”

“Right.”

“I am. I wouldn’t have managed nearly as well in your position.”

“Oh.” I swallow, my indignation dying as quickly as it rose. “Well, I don’t think any of us really knows what we’ll do until we’re in the situations.”

“That’s true.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I told you all about me, so what about you? What’s the story of your life?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, but I feel better at the turn of the conversation. At not being the sole focus of attention.

“Did your sister not tell you?”

“She told me only what you told her. That you were a marketing executive living in Richmond at Impact.”

“That’s true.”

“But that’s not your whole story. How old are you? It’s been eight years since Impact, so you must have been pretty young to be on the executive track back then.”

“I was. I’m thirty-eight now. I’ve always been a quick thinker and a, uh, creative problem solver. I moved up fast in my career. I’d gotten transferred over here from London when I was twenty-six.”

“Were you single?”

“No. I met my wife shortly after I moved here. She got pregnant, and we were married within two years.”

“Oh my God,” I gasp. “You had a kid?”

“Kids. Twin boys. Hal and Will.” His tone is light. Purposefully distant.

There’s a terrible end to this particular story. I know it for sure. And, as much as I need to know what it is, I’m also terrified of finding out. I couldn’t explain exactly why.

But in response to the resistance, I ask more roundabout questions. “What was your wife’s name?”

“Sarah.”

“What was she like?”

“She was… sweet. She came from a conservative family, and she wanted a very traditional life. She liked being taken care of, but she also took good care of me. I loved her. We would have had a good life.”

“How old were the kids at Impact?”

“They were two. Sarah’s parents died young and left her a hunting cabin near Roanoke. When things got bad in the lead-up to Impact, we moved out there and did okay for a while. It was very isolated, and I did well in finding and stocking up food and supplies. For a year and a half, we stayed in the cabin. It wasn’t… as bad as it could have been. We managed to avoid most of the chaos and violence.”

My heart is beating faster now. My throat is tightening. “So what happened?” I ask in a hushed voice.

“Our food ran out eventually.”

I take a shaky breath.

“I went out every day, trying to hunt or scavenge for leftover provisions. But I wasn’t a hunter. I was born to a middle-class family in London. I’d never even held a gun until Impact. I did manage to learn and kill some animals, but the climate killed them a lot faster than I could, and it was hard to find anything. We did all right in the spring and summer because we could grow a few things in a garden, but that winter…”

I gulp.

“We were starving. We gave every scrap of food we had to the boys, but it still wasn’t enough. So one morning I took a rifle and set out, promising I wouldn’t come home until I found us something to eat.” His voice is still almost indifferent, as if he’s speaking about someone else, someone other than himself. “I couldn’t find anything on the first day, but I managed to finally spot and kill a deer on the second. So I…”

He trails off like his throat has clamped down over the words.

“Aidan?” I breathe.

“I returned to our cabin with the deer. And when I did, my wife and boys were dead.”

I make a choked sound. “What happened?”

“I… I still don’t know. Their throats were slashed.”

“What?” I sit up. No way I can keep lying down after hearing that.

“Their throats were slashed. All of them. That’s how I found them.” He’s lying flat on his back now, staring up at the ceiling like I was telling my story earlier. As if staring at darkness and blank space was the only way to get the hard stuff spoken. “And I don’t know how it happened. Maybe someone came by and found the cabin. Forced their way in and killed them in the hopes of stealing food or supplies. Then left when there was nothing there to take.”

“M-maybe. Did it look like the cabin had been searched?”

“No. Nothing was out of place. It was all clean, everything in place the way Sarah always kept it. The boys were in their bed like they’d been sleeping. Their arms were—” He breaks off with a strangled breath. “Their arms were folded over their chests. Sarah was in her bed too. The knife was beside her.”

My eyes are burning. My whole body is shaking. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

His voice is hoarse as he finally turns his head to look at me again. “So I don’t think someone came in and did that to them.”

“I can’t even imagine how you got through that.”

“I don’t know either if you want to know the truth. The next several months are a blur to me. I don’t know why I didn’t simply kill myself too, but I didn’t. That’s when I started traveling. At first I only scavenged enough to keep myself alive, but eventually I got good at it and started trading or delivering messages. It was easier. Always moving. Never being at home.”

“That makes sense to me. I like to be on the road too. Sometimes being at home feels like… like a weight. A burden I don’t have it in me to bear.”

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice barely a breath. “That’s it exactly.”

We stare at each other in the near darkness for a long time.

He feels human to me now. In a way he never really felt before.

He’s a man. He’s been a husband. A father. He had the beginnings of a successful career. He found his entire family dead.

He’s been running from the ever-present pain of life just like I have.

“I never thought you were a monster,” I say at last.

His face changes very slightly. He nods. “Good. Because I… don’t want to be one.”

And that’s all we say. There’s nothing else that can be spoken in the profound space our stories have created.

I lie back down and pull up my blanket since the air in the church is getting cooler.

Aidan adds another piece of wood to the fire, poking the flames before dropping it in.

Then he lies down too, and we both go to sleep.

When I wake up the next time, I’m shivering.

So cold my teeth are chattering.

I sit up in alarm, confused about where I am and what’s happening.

We’re still in the church, and it’s still dark outside. It’s dark inside too. The fire in the stove has mostly gone out.

“Sorry, love,” Aidan says, startling me by speaking. He’s gotten up and hurries over to the stove. “Slept too long.”

“That’s o-o-kay.” I huddle under my blanket, unable to stop shaking. “I could have w-w-woken up too.”

Aidan works a few minutes until the fire is blazing again. I sigh in relief as I start to feel waves of heat pulsing through the frigid air.

“Should warm up in a minute,” he says, standing over where I’m huddled.

“I… kn-kn-know.” My teeth are rattling violently, and I can’t seem to stop them, no matter how hard I try.

I’m dazed by sleep and cold, and so I don’t immediately process what’s happening when Aidan lowers himself beside me, adds his blanket over mine, and then climbs under them, positioning himself behind me.

“What are y-y-y-you d-d-doing?”

“Warming you up.” He presses his big body behind mine and wraps me in both his arms. “I’ll move if you want me to, but this seems smarter. I’m freezing too.”

I snuggle back against him, telling myself that this is ridiculous. We have no reason to be spooning like this. Pretty soon the stove will warm up the room again and I’ll be perfectly fine under my covers by myself.

But he smells familiar somehow. Safe. And his body is already warmer than mine is.

I like how this feels, so I don’t tell him to get up or move.

We lie together in silence for several minutes until my teeth finally stop chattering.

I expect him to go back to his own bed then, but he doesn’t. He’s breathing slow and thick beside me. I wonder if he’s already gone to sleep.

And it’s the oddest thing. What I’m suddenly aware of as I lie there wrapped up in his big, warm body.

I’ve always known he was a good-looking man. It’s been one of the annoyances of who he is—that he’s as handsome as any man I’ve ever met. But I’ve never been attracted to him. Not physically. Not sexually.

My body has never responded to anything about his.

Until right now.

Because he doesn’t feel any longer like a selfish, arrogant stranger. Like a rival or an enemy or just another coldhearted man.

He feels like a person. I know him now. I understand him. He’s felt some of the same things that I have. He’s struggled to get through life just like me.

And now I’m acutely aware of his body. The long lines and firm muscles and coarse hair and tapered fingers. The heat of him. The breath of him.

The life of him.

And my body responds to it, wants to match it somehow.

My heartbeat is faster than it should be. A hot excitement pulses at my throat, in my ears, between my legs.

My bottom is pressed back against his groin, and it feels like it wouldn’t take much for us to be fucking.

And for some reason I want it.

I want it right now.

I’m not used to feeling anything like it—arousal that hasn’t been purposefully manufactured.

It’s doubtlessly inappropriate, and I don’t know what to do with it anyway. So I leave it alone. I let it linger.

I feel it.

Until the warmth of the fire and Aidan’s body finally lull me back to sleep.

6

I SLEEP ALL NIGHT.

The one time I wake up is when Aidan gets up to keep the fire going. I watch him groggily, smiling as he gets back under the covers with me afterward.

It’s still comfortably warm, but he settles himself at my back again, spooning me from behind with one of his arms draped over me.

Maybe he’s colder than I am. Or maybe he’s too sleepy to think through whether the cuddling is necessary. Either way, I’m far too cozy to complain about his closeness.

I mumble out a thank-you and close my eyes again, falling back to sleep within a few minutes.

The next time I wake it’s morning.

I know it’s morning because the room is filled with light. When they built this church, they must have positioned it intentionally to get the morning sun. Bright beams stream through the narrow windows, breaking through the deep shadows of the sanctuary.

I’m lying right in the path of one of the sunbeams. I squint and roll over onto my other side so I’m not hit with the full force of it.

“Wha’s happ’ning?”

The groggy grumble surprises me. For some reason, I wasn’t expecting Aidan to still be under the covers with me.

“Sun’s out,” I explain, burrowing against his chest. “Way too bright.”

He adjusts his body against mine, not pulling away but likely getting more comfortable. He wraps both arms around me loosely. “Good it stopped snowing.”

“Yeah. But way too much sun for first thing in the morning.” I rub my face against the fabric of the robe he’s still wearing. It smells faintly musty and a lot like Aidan.

“Can’t be too early if the sun is already up above the mountains.”

I grumble wordlessly since he’s making too much logical sense for this time of day. I used to love to sleep in whenever I could, and something about today feels kind of like it used to when I could stay cozy in bed without any burdens or responsibilities compelling me to my feet.

After a minute, his body starts changing. Getting less cozy. Almost tense. I don’t know why, but I don’t like it. I grumble again and shift restlessly against him.

That’s when I discover something new. Brushing against my middle as I move.

“Oops,” I say.

He lets out a surprised huff of amusement. “Oops, is it?”

“Well, you weren’t like that when you woke up, and I assume you didn’t intend to randomly get hard first thing in the morning.”

“No. I didn’t. It was entirely involuntary.”

“That’s what I thought. So oops was appropriate.”

“Quite right.”

I snicker and loosen my grip on him. He doesn’t appear to have any ideas about sex with me in his plans for this morning, but there’s no reason to keep rubbing against him.

That doesn’t seem very sportsmanlike.

“Thanks, but distance isn’t going to take care of it in this condition.” He groans and sits up. “I’m going to have to get up. Damn it.”

I giggle. I don’t know why exactly. Something about the self-deprecating dryness of his tone. “Okay. Well, have fun with that. I’m going back to sleep.”

He scowls down at me without any heat. “Thanks very much for the sympathy.”

“I’m supposed to sympathize with an erection? You’re not one of those guys who believe the urges of your dick should be the world’s priority, are you?”

“No, of course not. But I’ve got to go outside in the freezing cold to deal with it.”

I can’t seem to stop laughing. “You don’t really have to go outside. Go into one of the back rooms.”

“I thought it might bother you.”

I pause, realizing despite his morning grumpiness, he’s being genuinely considerate of me. He knows I have issues with sex—he heard my story and witnessed my response to overhearing Del and Cole going at it a few weeks ago—and he’s willing to make himself incredibly uncomfortable in order to keep something sexual away from me. “It won’t. Unless you’re in the habit of shouting or banging on the wall as you jerk it, then I won’t have a problem.”

He chokes on a laugh. “Why would I bang on the wall?”

“I have no idea. But some men are weird. Seriously, don’t freeze to death on my account. The back room is fine.”

“All right. Thanks.”

I’m still kind of smiling as he walks rather stiffly down to the front of the sanctuary and then through the side door.

In truth, I’m not at all uncomfortable with this visceral reminder of sex. I’m not vaguely disgusted or annoyed or impatient or compelled to push it out of my mind.

I’m a little bit excited.

Not turned on. Just excited.

Because Aidan didn’t wake up with that erection. He got aroused after he was conscious, while he was snuggled up against me.

Sure, maybe it’s not at all personal. Maybe it’s about me possessing a female body. I don’t actually know anything about his sex history, but I think I would have heard if he was in the habit of sleeping around in his travels. After all, people talk about that kind of thing—after Impact as much as they did before it.

It’s entirely possible—even likely?—that he hasn’t had sex since his wife died almost six years ago.

A physical reaction doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

But I’m still a little bit excited, the way I used to anticipate a new episode of a TV show I liked.

As if I can’t wait to see what happens next.

The sun has indeed come out after the storm, but the wind is still gusting fiercely, and the temperature is below freezing. There’s absolutely no chance of our getting out of here today.

My leg still hurts like hell, but it’s better than it was yesterday. I can stand up, putting a little bit of weight on the bad leg. I can limp although it’s painful.

The improvement is a relief. It means I haven’t been so seriously injured that I won’t recover.

We spend the day pleasantly, taking care of necessities, preparing our meager meals, and lying around chatting or dozing.

It’s not a bad day. At all.

When the sun goes down and it gets colder, Aidan adds his blanket to mine and gets under the covers with me like he did the night before.

I don’t question it. I definitely don’t complain.

I like it—and not just for the warmth.

I thought maybe he’d avoid it after getting turned on this morning, but he doesn’t. And when I wake up in the middle of the night to realize that he’s hard again, pressing his erection against my butt, I’m not upset.

I’m excited again. Even more than in the morning. My body actually responds, my pussy softening. Clenching—like it instinctively wants to pull him inside.

All this happens as I’m half-asleep. I don’t wake up entirely until Aidan pulls away and gets up. He must assume I’m still sleeping because he doesn’t say a word. Just walks to the back room.

He must masturbate there again because his body is warm and relaxed as he gets back in bed with me and pulls my body against his, spooning me like he was before.

I think about saying something light and funny, but I don’t. I nestle back against him and go to sleep again.

On the third day, my leg is even better. I can put more weight on it. Stand up without much pain. Walking is difficult, but it’s not impossible.

The temperature is warmer but not enough for much melting, and the wind is still really bad. Aidan and I agree in the morning that there’s still no chance of getting out of this church today.

We’re still stranded, and I don’t even mind that fact too much.

The morning passes in much the same way as the previous ones. We’re all right on food for a few more days, but after that we’ll be getting hungry. At midday, I’m worried that I’m starting to smell, so I ask if Aidan would mind bringing some snow inside in a basin and letting it melt so I can clean myself up without using our drinking water.

He agrees it’s a good idea although he asks if it’s an indirect message that he’s the one who stinks.

He is, indeed, smelling rather strong, but it hasn’t been bothering me much.

It’s funny the way you get used to things. Body odor would have stood out unpleasantly in the old world, but now it’s simply a fact of existence. Everyone smells more or less, unless they’ve just had a bath with soap. The nose adapts. And it’s only noteworthy if someone smells a lot more strongly than everyone else.

I’m used to Aidan’s scent now. It’s familiar. Natural. Sometimes makes my belly clench with a weird kind of possessiveness.

I’ve never felt that way about a man before. Not once in my life.

We take our makeshift baths and get dressed. I brush out my hair.

As I’m brushing, Aidan wanders the perimeter of the church, maybe checking things out or maybe simply stretching his legs. He’s out there for longer than I expect, so I eventually set the brush down and limp over to the outside door so I can stick my head out and look.

He’s in sight, standing several feet away, staring out toward the snow-covered mountains. He’s cleared a path by trudging through it several times, packing down the snow.

“Is everything okay?” I ask him.

He jerks visibly in surprise but turns around with a casual smile. “Yes. Everything’s fine. Just getting some fresh air. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I’m frowning at him. I’m not sure why, but I could have sworn he was brooding just now. Like something was bothering him.

And I want to know what it is.

Demanding it won’t get me anywhere, however. He might be the most guarded man I’ve ever met. So I bite back further questions and return inside. He follows me, stomping the snow off his shoes and then taking them off before he walks into the sanctuary where we’ve set up our stuff.

He leans over and picks up my hairbrush, which I left on the floor, and sets it neatly next to my pack.

The small gesture makes me realize that he does that kind of thing all the time. He’s tidy by nature, straightening things up and collecting stray items instinctively, without making a big deal about it or even calling attention to it.

Del has always been like that. She likes everything to be in its place, and she always straightens up her surroundings. She keeps the cottage in perfect order and occasionally gets frustrated if I get distracted and forget to pick up.

I don’t care nearly as much about everything being in pristine order, but I do appreciate having a nice, clean place to live, so I try not to be too messy.

Aidan evidently likes things in their place too. Thinking back, I realize how nicely he’s organized even our minimal surroundings and how he’s kept everything picked up the whole time.

A silly urge compels me to pick up my hairbrush, pull it through my loose hair a few times, and then set it back down on the floor where I left it earlier.

I don’t say anything or call any attention to it. I get up to stoke the fire in the stove. Since it’s not as cold now, we haven’t been keeping it going quite so vigorously.

A few minutes later, Aidan picks up the hairbrush and returns it to its place.

I giggle to myself. Then return to my bed and braid my hair into the two french braids I normally wear. Then put the brush back on the floor.

Thinking quickly for an excuse to leave, I mention I’m going to check in the back for something to read to pass the time.

“Bible. Hymns. Or liturgy. Those are your choices.”

“Humph. Well, I’ll look anyway.”

“Go right ahead.”

The book situation is exactly as Aidan warned. I take a Bible off the shelf since it’s the most interesting of the available options.

When I return, the brush is once again next to my pack.

I try very hard to keep my mouth still so Aidan won’t know I’m secretly laughing. I sit down and flip through the pages of the Bible. I remember a lot of the Bible stories from church as a child, but I don’t know how to find any of them in the sea of words.

Very discreetly I reach over to pick up the brush and place it back on the floor.

Then I glance over at Aidan and realize he’s been watching me.

His eyes narrow.

I spill over into giggles.

“I was wondering if you were doing that on purpose,” he says.

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why would you think such a thing about me?”

He’s been lounging on his cushions, but now he gets up. Leans down to pick up the brush. “This doesn’t belong here.”

“It’s my brush. Surely I decide where it belongs.”

“The floor is community property. Personal possessions don’t belong there.”

My attempts to restrain my amusement are useless. Laughter keeps bubbling out as I get up to reach for the brush.

He raises his arm to keep it out of my reach.

“Hey, that’s mine.” I grab for it again.

He evades me and makes a move back toward my pack to return it to its designated-by-him spot.

I block him.

“Breanna.” His eyes are laughing, but the rest of his expression is disapproving. “The brush goes there.”

“I get to say where the brush goes.” I try to grab for it again in a quick lunge, but he jerks his hand away at the last minute, making me almost stumble.

He uses his other hand to catch me around the waist before I fall. Then he doesn’t let go, making it impossible for me to reach the brush.

“Oh, you big bully,” I burst out, still laughing helplessly and also trying to get away so I can claim the hairbrush. “Your longer arms give you an unfair advantage.”

“Am I supposed to feel bad about that?”

“Yes, you should feel bad. It’s my brush.”

“I’m trying to return it.” He’s openly laughing now as he tries to hold me back.

We have a silly little scuffle that ends when I lose my balance and fall backward onto my bed.

Aidan grabs me quickly to break my fall, although the cushions would have almost certainly protected me from the impact.

Either way, we both end up on the bedding, me on my back and Aidan on top of me.

And he’s still got my damned brush.

Laughing breathlessly, I grab yet again for it, and this time I actually get my hand on it.

I tug, and he resists for a minute until he finally relents and releases it.

I let out a victorious exclamation.

“I let you win,” he murmurs, amusement glinting in his eyes and softening his lips.

“So says the loser.” I’m grinning up at him, completely absorbed in our playful challenge and not thinking about anything else.

But then I see his eyes change. They get hotter. Unexpectedly hungry as he gazes down at me. His cheeks flush deeper, and he holds himself very still.

I’m suddenly aware that half his weight is pressed into my body. He’s supporting himself on one arm, but our legs are tangled together, and our groins are aligned.

He’s wearing his jeans today, but there’s a growing bulge at the front of them. I can feel it—feel him—against me.

And I want it.

Want him.

In a way that’s only partly physical.

The desire for him overwhelms me. Swallows me up. It’s bewildering and frightening and entirely new for me.

Even when I was sometimes turned on with one of the men I’ve been with, it was a mostly empty physical response.

I never felt like this. Full of so much that I’m overflowing.

I make a weird whimpering sound.

Aidan yanks himself off me with a jerky motion and a muffled groan. “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know.”

“I never should have been all over you like that.” He’s sitting up stiffly beside me. Not looking at me. “I’m not one of those men.”

“I know you’re not.” I reach out to touch his arm. “You think I don’t know that?”

He turns his head. Meets my eyes with a tensely questioning expression.

“Aidan, I’ve been made to know in the most tangible ways what selfish, violent men will do when they have power over women. Over anyone. I know how to recognize them. And even when I hated you, I never believed you were one of them.”

The mood between us has shifted so abruptly it’s breathtaking.

Aidan’s lips part slightly. Then he says, “You didn’t?”

“No. I know how to tell the difference. And yes, I thought you were an asshole, but not that kind of asshole. You’re different.”

“I hope so.” He makes a rough sound in his throat and rubs at his face. “Because you’ve always been the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and you turned me on long before I even liked you. Even back when you were making me nothing but crazy.”

My throat tightens. I swallow over it. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” He shifts his position, turning toward me more fully. He doesn’t reach out to touch me, however. “And now… now I’m having trouble focusing on anything other than how much I want to get you into bed. But I also hate the idea of being one of those men who used you in the past. I know what you’ve been through, and I understand why you don’t want to be with another man again. I completely respect that.”

Deep feeling is shuddering in my chest, in my gut, in my head, in my pussy, in the air between me and him. It’s too much. I can’t contain it. I can’t even speak for fear it will all come crashing down like a tidal wave.

“So I’m never going to make a move on you, love. I’ll never be one of those men. You don’t ever have to worry about it, so you don’t need to pull away. It’s just… difficult right now. With our being trapped together so closely.” His eyes have been lowered as he finishes his declaration, but now he raises them again in a quick, almost diffident glance.

I lick my dry lips nervously. “O-Okay. Thank you. I’m not going to… to pull away.”

With the way I’m feeling right now, I think I could have sex with him and enjoy it, but the fear of the newness—of the intensity of my feelings—is too great for me to break through it and ask for what I want.

I’m not used to being this authentic. This exposed. Vulnerable.

But I want it as much as I fear it.

I want even more of it.

I want him to see all the way inside me. Know me completely.

As deeply as I know him.

That night, Aidan sleeps under the covers with me again. Neither one of us questions it anymore.

Maybe we both need it.

I love how his body feels as it presses against my back, spooning me tightly. It’s not simply warm and cozy. It’s safe.

Protected.

Cared for.

That’s how I feel, and I don’t actually know why.

Aidan and I aren’t even supposed to like each other.

All of that has changed now—for him as much as for me. We might have been rivals before, but we aren’t anymore. I’m not even sure we’re only friends.

We’re more than that. Something deeper.

It’s still inchoate. Unspoken. And it terrifies me when I think about it too much. But it’s impossible to deny.

Maybe it’s those swirling, jittery thoughts that keep me awake tonight. Or maybe it’s because I’ve been sleeping long nights and napping during the days ever since we arrived in this church.

Whatever the reason, I lie awake even after Aidan’s body relaxes behind me. His breathing is so steady I assume he’s asleep, so I twitch when he says into the silence, “What’s troubling you, love?”

“Nothing.”

“Why are you lying to me? Do you honestly think I can’t recognize when you aren’t telling me the truth?”

I think about that question. It’s unnerving. That he can see whether I’m lying. “I’m not really troubled,” I explain. “Just distracted.”

“By what?”

By him. But it’s too much risk to admit that.

“By everything. Being stuck here with you. Not feeling like you’re an enemy anymore.”

“Were you happier hating me?”

“No. But it felt…” I gulp. “Safer.”

“I know what you mean. I think… I keep thinking I resisted you so intensely because it felt safer for me too.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Then finally murmurs, “Connecting emotionally is much more difficult—much more dangerous—than seeing someone else as an enemy. Empathy exposes us as much as the other person.”

I lick my lips. Feel kind of shaky so I nestle back into his embrace.

He continues, “Especially when—like you and me—you’ve been trying to avoid it for so long.”

“Yeah. I guess we’re kind of the same.”

Aidan has been running away from his past and his pain just as much as I have. Until finally, here on this mountain, here in this church, we’ve both been made to stop.

“We are. In a lot of ways.” He moves his head behind mine, like maybe he’s gently nuzzling my hair. “But in other ways we aren’t.”

“What ways?”

“You never stopped being a good person as you ran.”

“You didn’t—”

“Are you seriously arguing with me about this? You know perfectly well the kind of people I’ve worked with, including the ones who most hurt you.”

“But that was before. You’ve not been doing it lately. And I’m the last person to judge someone else for doing what they need to do when they’re backed into a corner. Survival instincts sometimes… sometimes break us.”

“Maybe. But they didn’t completely break you. Not the way they broke me.”

I don’t like the self-directed bitterness in his tone, but I have no idea how to counter it. He’s only speaking the truth. He’s done a lot of things he shouldn’t have done because he was trying not to care.

I might understand him now—feel for him—but it doesn’t take all that away.

“I don’t know,” I mumble at last. “It’s hard to sort out. But I don’t think… Like I told you before, I’ve always known there’s more to you than the heartless person you were trying to be.”

“I hope so,” he says in almost a whisper.

The words linger in the silence and the near darkness. Float up to the vaulted ceiling of this sanctuary and vibrate there.

We lie together in silence for a long time.

He’s not asleep any more than I am when I finally say, “It’s weird to sleep in a church like this.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Was your family religious growing up?”

“No,” he answers easily, the intensity of before shifting into comfortable serenity. “My parents weren’t religious at all. They believed in enjoying themselves and making money.”

I wonder if he even knows if they’re alive right now—if they died before Impact or fled England before the asteroid hit—but I don’t want to shift the mood between us in order to ask. Instead, I ask, “Were you close to them?”

“Fairly close. I loved them and never doubted they loved me. But they were supremely unspiritual. We never went to church or meditated on universal questions or thought about eternity.” He pauses. “What about you?”

“We went to church semiregularly. My folks were Christians, but they weren’t as devout as some of our friends. I grew up believing in God. Believing that Jesus died to save me.”

“And now?”

I shrug and fight the urge to squirm. “Now I have no idea about any of it.”

“Maybe not. But maybe that faith has shaped you anyway.”

“What do you mean?” I’m so surprised by the comment that I turn to look at him over my shoulder.

He meets my eyes evenly. “You believe in doing what’s right—no matter how much the world has hurt you. You believe in sacrifice for the people you love.”

I turn back and frown at the empty space in front of me. “Don’t you?”

“I’ve been thinking about that question a lot, and I think my answer is no.”

“You saved my life on the mountain.”

“I know I did. But you helped me too. And I always want to pay my debts. But there’s never been any chasing lost causes for me. No running into brick walls. I’m not sure it’s in me to… to sacrifice.”

He’s being nakedly honest. Frighteningly so.

I don’t know how to answer it, but I want to. I want to comfort him because his self-reflection has clearly pained him. “I’m not sure anyone really knows. Not until they’re in the moment when they have to decide. But sacrifice doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It only happens out of love.”

He shifts behind me. Takes an odd, shaky breath.

“And you know damn well you’re capable of that,” I add.

It feels like he’s smiling almost poignantly. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

We don’t speak again, and eventually I fall asleep.

The next morning, Aidan wants to hike up the mountain by himself and retrieve the wine from the ski resort.

I tell him absolutely not.

My leg is a lot better, but it’s not fully healed yet. It still hurts when I walk, although in a way that’s now tolerable. If he’s going anywhere, then I’m going with him.

“Don’t be irrational, love.” He’s been outside, checking the weather and the old roadway. His hair is windblown, and his face is reddened from the cold and the breeze. “There’s still snow on the ground. It’s passable, but it will only take one fall for you to tear up your leg again.”

“I can be careful.”

“Yes, but why should you take the risk? I can get up there and back here in only a few hours. Then we can leave tomorrow after another day of melting.”

“If you can do it in a few hours, then I can do it in not much longer.”

He’s scowling at me now, clearly annoyed by my stubbornness. “But why should you?”

“Because this is my job as much as it’s yours.”

“You can have the wine. I don’t give a fuck about it anymore. But you’ve been injured, and it’s safer for you to stay here.”

I was sitting on my bed when we started this conversation, but now I stand up so I can face him squarely. “You know me well enough by now to know that I don’t make choices simply because they’re safe.”

He rubs at his mouth and his chin, looking to the side as if he’s thinking. “For necessary choices, sure. But not for this. Why does it matter which one of us digs out the fucking wine?”

I stare at him, torn by annoyance and confusion and that same jittery excitement I’ve been experiencing for days.

He’s been peering at me, and his body suddenly stiffens. He takes a step back. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to grab the wine and head back to the compound, leaving you here by yourself. You can’t seriously be thinking that. Can you?”

To truth is that idea has never once occurred to me. Not once. But that realization is so baffling—so embarrassing—that I can’t admit it. Not even to myself.

Four days stranded with a man in a snowstorm shouldn’t be enough to change him from a rival to a friend. Or even more. It shouldn’t shift a worldview that’s been constructed from a lifetime of being used by men.

Why the hell do I trust him now? It makes absolutely no sense.

So I choke out, “Why… why wouldn’t I think that?”

He steps closer and reaches out to take my face in one hand. It’s not a caress as much as it is a demand. “You know why,” he says hoarsely. “Breanna, love, you know why.”

My eyes blur. I don’t understand how this can be happening, how I can be feeling this.

How this person who is responding to Aidan in that particular way can really be me.

How he seems so confident that I know and understand how he feels about me.

As if there can be no possible doubt.

I’m shaking, trembling deep in my core. The shuddering radiates out to my knees and my hands. I’m breathing in fast, jerky pants.

“I’ll come back,” he adds in a thick murmur. “I’ll be back this afternoon with the wine. Then we can decide what to do with it. There’s no reason to put yourself at risk of further injury. You can trust me, love. You can trust me. I’ll come back to you.”

I swallow over a lump in my throat. I can barely see his face through the blur in my eyes. But I manage to nod.

“Is that a yes?” he asks in a different tone.

“Yes. It’s a yes.”

The surrender defies everything I’ve ever believed about myself. I never back down. I never rely on someone else. I never turn down a challenge.

I never fully trust a man.

I don’t even know why I’m doing it now, but it feels necessary. Inevitable. Like the winding, uphill road of my life has led me straight to this moment. To Aidan’s urgent gaze. To his hand on my face. To the stifled desperation in his plea for me to trust him.

And the truth of the matter is this.

There’s something inside me—a deep, ever-hidden softness of my heart—that knows beyond questioning that Aidan will always return to me.

7

AIDAN LEAVES at midmorning and tells me he’ll probably be back by the middle of the afternoon but not to worry too much if he’s later. If the building has been damaged, it may take longer to dig through the wreckage.

Since the church building has survived intact for so long, I’m hoping the resort buildings will be in similar condition, but there’s no predicting what could have happened, especially at this altitude.

There’s been a lot of melting over the past two days, so there’s only a few inches of snow on the roadway now. The wind has finally died down, so it’s not gusting the snow around in wild flurries. It’s a reasonable morning to make the short trip. There’s nothing visibly unsafe about the conditions.

Aidan takes my big backpack since trying to bring his cart up will slow him down. I feel kind of sick and kind of excited at the same time as I watch him start out, hiking uphill. His figure is tall, lean, confident. He’s not wearing a cap or a hood today, so his hair is loose. Blowing in the breeze. Glinting like gold in the morning sunlight.

He turns back around as if he can sense I’m watching from the front steps of the church. I can’t see his face clearly from this distance, but he gives me an insouciant, two-fingered salute that makes me smile.

I wave back and then go inside.

It’s going to be fine. I believed him when he promised to return. He’s not going to snatch the win and run off, abandoning me here on my own.

After our history, maybe I have no strong reasons to trust him like that, but I do.

He cared more about saving me than winning our competition. Than saving himself. Than holding on to his possessions. He opened up to me for real. He made it safe for me to open up to him.

I wasn’t entirely wrong about him before. He had hardened himself, closed himself off from feeling. But that hardness wasn’t his nature. It was his armor.

And I know all about that kind of armor.

I’m not fool enough to hope we’ll fall into some kind of epic love story, but Aidan and I understand each other now. We aren’t enemies anymore. He can change.

And so can I.

I’m anxious but hopeful as I go through the morning, puttering around in the church, breaking up another chair since our wood is getting low, and dozing for a while since I don’t have anything else to do.

I’ve slept more in the past few days than I have for ages. Maybe that’s another reason I feel a lot better.

Occasionally I go outside to see what’s going on and to stretch and test my bad leg. I keep track of the sun in the sky, and when it’s around three in the afternoon, I start looking for Aidan to return.

There’s no sign of him for a couple of hours, but I don’t let it bother me too much. It’s probably taking longer than expected for Aidan to find the wine.

He knows what he’s doing. He’s one of those resilient survivors who can always manage to make it through hardships that would destroy someone softer, sweeter.

I’m another survivor. I know how to recognize them.

He’ll be just fine.

The sun is getting low in the sky when I start to worry.

He really should be back.

If he couldn’t get to the wine by now, he would have simply turned around and come back to me. We could have returned and tried again when I was there to help him.

He wouldn’t work all day at a lost cause. He’d never endlessly run into a brick wall. He told me so himself. He never does that. He’s more practical than stubborn.

So I start to wonder if he got injured. Hurt. Something to forcefully prevent him from returning.

For all I know, he might be dead.

That thought upsets me so much I can’t even entertain it. I don’t believe it. A much more likely alternative is that he fell or something collapsed on top of him. And he’s trapped up there somewhere in the snow.

He’s not dead yet, but he will be soon if I don’t go find him.

I wage a mental battle as the sun sinks lower toward the mountainous horizon. The temperature has warmed even more. Even now, it’s not getting much colder. While it’s never safe to travel in the dark, there’s not likely to be predators of the human or animal variety this high up in the mountains. And there’s still enough light out right now that I can probably make it to the resort before it’s truly dark.

Besides, I know how to defend myself.

If Aidan is stuck somewhere injured or trapped, he might not be able to make it through the night. I’m not going to delay until morning. It’s not in me to wait around passively that way—not when there’s something for me to do.

So I bundle up, put some of our remaining food in a small bag, and stoke the fire higher, deciding to leave it burning so there’s a chance the building will be warm when we return. Even if we don’t make it back soon, the longer the stove heats up this room, the slower it will get chilled when the fire dies.

It’s getting toward dusk when I start off. The snow reflects what light remains, creating a weird world filled with bright edges and deep shadows. My leg feels okay—still sore but not actively painful. And I’m confident. Determined.

I know I’m doing the right thing.

I’ve been walking only about ten minutes when I see a motion in the distance. It’s dark enough now that I can’t see what it is clearly until it’s closer.

Then I finally can make out the figure of a man.

I know who it is, long before I can process any details of the body or face.

Aidan.

I stand still and wait for him.

His pace speeds up as he spots me. When he’s close enough for me to see his expression, it’s urgent. Almost needy. He moves into an almost run.

Because I can see his expression, I’m ready for him when he reaches me. He pulls me into a tight hug.

I hug him back, feeling just as needy as he is but also incredibly anxious about the naked emotion.

Aidan isn’t supposed to feel this way.

And neither am I.

It doesn’t make sense that we do.

“What madness is this, love? You weren’t really thinking of hiking up this damned mountain in the dark?” His voice is slightly hoarse, but his tone is casual, amused.

It’s a relief, breaking through the inexplicable emotional tension.

I shake off my jitters and give him an impatient look. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m coming to rescue you.”

He laughs warmly and gives me another brief, one-armed hug. Then he turns me around and keeps a hand on my back as we walk toward the church. “I didn’t need rescuing.”

“Well, you were very late, and you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, you know. It seemed like you might need some help from someone more competent.”

He’s still chuckling. He keeps slanting me quick little looks. Almost hopeful. “I’m sorry I’m so late. The building had collapsed, so I had the worst time getting to the wine cellar.”

“I figured it was something like that.”

“So then why this intrepid rescue mission?”

I shake my head. Shrug and avoid his gaze. Mumble, “I don’t know. I kept imagining you with a broken leg or buried under a collapsed roof. It seemed mean and petty to let you freeze or starve to death up there.”

He slides his hand from between my shoulder blades up to the back of my head. Uses it to turn my head to face him. “You’re allowed to admit you were worried about me, love.”

I snarl, mostly to cover a wave of self-consciousness. “That’s your ego talking.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He appears to be hiding a smile. “I was afraid you’d suspect I’d grabbed the wine and taken off, leaving you behind.”

I swallow hard and don’t answer.

He stops walking and turns me to face him, lifting my chin with his gloved hand. “Did you think that?”

I stare up at him. Have no idea how to answer. Claiming I did feels safer, but it’s also an absolute lie.

I’m more anxious than ever. Almost shaking with it. It feels like something very important is happening here, and I want it and fear it at the exact same time.

“Breanna?” Aidan prompts thickly.

I tighten my lips and give my head a little shake, dropping my eyes.

I can’t remember the last time I was this scared. Not even when my life has been in danger have I felt like this.

“If you thought I’d left you, you’d be heading down the mountain and not up it,” he murmurs, working out the answer for himself. “So that means you really were coming to save me.”

With a brief glint of annoyance, I jerk my chin out of his hand. “That’s what I told you from the beginning.”

“But you made it into a joke. It was real. You were actually worried about me.”

“Do you think I wanted something to happen to you?”

“A week ago, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have blinked if I got wiped off the face of the earth.”

I frown. “I would have blinked.”

“Maybe. But you wouldn’t have minded too much.”

“So what’s your point? You wouldn’t have minded if something happened to me.”

“Yes, I would have. I was always far too consumed with where you were and what you were doing.”

“You can’t retcon our history like that. You never cared about me at all except to resent me.”

“I did resent you,” he admits, still far more serious than I’m comfortable with but also almost amused. “You drove me absolutely crazy. And I kept trying to convince myself it was because you were stealing my jobs and taking my territory, but it was always more than that. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’d be trying to live my life as I always did, and I’d randomly get hit by images of you. Or I’d start wondering about how you were doing. Why you did what you did. I had this ridiculous, desperate need to know you. All of you.”

I gulp. My cheeks are burning and not only from the evening air. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No, I’m not. Think about it. Everything you ever said about this territory being more than large enough for the two of us was absolutely true. So why the hell would I have fought you so hard?”

“I… I never understood it. I know I had my own issues. I could never back down with you and be reasonable, even when you were trying to negotiate. But I could never understand why it was so important to you.”

“I didn’t want to understand. I instinctively knew you were some kind of threat to me, but I couldn’t admit you were a threat to my heart. Not my work.”

“Aidan.” The shuddering inside me has radiated out so that my fingers are trembling and my lips are wobbling.

“It’s fine, love. You’ve hated me for a long time, and our hearts don’t shift on a dime. It’s enough that you were worried about me. That you knew I hadn’t left you. I take that as a very encouraging sign.”

No one has ever looked at me the way Aidan is gazing down at me now. With eyes filled with feeling. Warm and tender and still slightly amused. Full of hope. Something resembling devotion.

And awe.

Awe.

Like he can’t believe I’m with him.

I have to answer it. I must. But I’m still far too frightened and confused to express anything close to what he’s expressed to me.

So I manage to choke out, “I was scared. Scared that you were hurt. I couldn’t have lived with that.”

His expression breaks very briefly. Then he reaches out to hug me—quick and so hard I can barely breathe.

Then he pulls back, takes my face in both his hands, and kisses me. His lips are cold and dry and needy. I reach up to lightly touch his jaw.

When we pull apart, we’re both smiling. He puts his hand on my back again, and we keep walking down toward the church.

We’re inside and he’s pulling the straps from his shoulders to set down the pack when he says, “You didn’t even ask if I got the wine.”

“Well, I figured you did. The backpack looks full.”

“It is.” He unzips it and shows me what’s inside.

“Wow. How many did you get?”

“Eleven. That’s all that was easily accessible. Agatha only asked for eight, so that leaves us three.”

“Nice.” I’m taking off my snow-caked shoes and my jacket, cap, and gloves as we talk. “Wine should be a hot commodity since it’s so hard to come by lately.”

“Yes.” He winces as he pulls his coat off his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. What do you mean?”

“I mean you winced like something is hurt. Did you hurt yourself?”

“Nah.” Despite his words, he’s moving carefully as he drops his coat on the floor and then leans over to unlace and pry off his boots.

“Aidan?”

“I got a few bruises from moving the wreckage around. Nothing serious.” His tone is casual and unconcerned, but I don’t believe him.

He’s stiff, being careful about the way he moves.

He’s not going to react well to me demanding an accounting of injuries he’s insisting are minor, so I don’t ask him again. I just watch closely as he takes off his wet gloves and socks and the scarf he wound around his neck.

When he peels off his heavy outer shirt, leaving only a light gray T-shirt with his jeans, I suck in a sharp breath.

“You’re bleeding!”

He glances down at his side. “It’s just a scrape.”

“A scrape? Damn it, Aidan. You’re all beat up.”

“It’s nothing out of the ordinary.” He appears impatient more than anything else, as if he doesn’t want to waste time worrying about his own condition.

“Maybe not, but it’s ridiculous to ignore the fact that you’re bleeding. Can I at least take care of that?”

“If it will stop you from fussing around, then yes.”

I’m annoyed with him now. I don’t appreciate his description of my behavior as fussing. All the soft, intense, jittery feelings I was overwhelmed with earlier are still there, but they’re masked by a layer of exasperation.

The annoyance is a lot safer, so I lean into it.

“Of all the stupid, stubborn, macho… What if that cut gets infected? What will you do then? People have died from less.”

“I know they have,” he mutters. He’s standing perfectly still in his jeans and T-shirt. Something about him feels almost wounded in a way that isn’t physical.

My frustration softens. “Your jeans are soaked. You’ll never get warm unless you take them off.”

“I know.”

“I’ll turn my back if you want me to.”

“I don’t care about that, love.”

“Then what’s the matter? Why aren’t you moving?”

He finally meets my eyes. Gives an ironic shrug. “I don’t even know. I guess I’m not used to anyone taking care of me.”

I make a choked sound. There’s a tug in my chest—at my heart—that feels like it’s tying me to him. Connecting us. “I know the feeling. But still. Take the jeans off or I’ll take them off for you.”

That amuses him enough to break through his stalled daze. He carefully strips off his wet jeans, his breath hitching a couple of times when he moves the wrong way.

He’s left in faded boxer briefs and his T-shirt. He looks at me quietly.

Swallowing over another surge of affection, I gesture toward the woodstove. “Try to get warmed up. I restocked my first aid stuff at the compound, so I actually have some supplies to use.”

He doesn’t answer, but he does as I say, moving over to sit down at the head of his makeshift bed, closer to the fire. I come over after I’ve gotten bandages, gauze, and even some antibacterial ointment.

I kneel beside him. Wash and tend to the large cut on his side. Then check the rest of his body and bandage a couple more of the shallower cuts.

His ribs are bruised. So is one of his knees. His hands are still freezing, despite our sitting several minutes next to the warmth of the fire.

I take one of his hands. Rub it gently between mine.

“Breanna,” he murmurs hoarsely.

“What?”

“You don’t have to do this.”

My eyes have been focused on our hands, but now they shoot up to his face.

He’s watching me soberly. “I know intimacy is difficult for you. It would be for anyone with your history. You don’t have to do it.”

I gulp over the tension in my throat and switch to rubbing his other hand. “It’s hard for you too, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s…” He takes a weird, ragged breath. “It’s terrifying.”

“So why aren’t you pulling away?”

He darts me a few more of those looks—half-uncertain and half-hopeful. “Because no matter how much I’ve been avoiding it, I can’t help but… want it.” He stares at me, breathing heavily. “Like all this time I’ve been running away, I’ve been running straight to you.”

I make a little sound in my throat, strangling on the waves of emotion. Then I can’t hold myself back anymore. I lean forward. Hold on to the side of his face with one hand. And kiss him.

He returns the kiss immediately. Eagerly. He grabs for my head and holds it in a tight grip as he moves his mouth against mine.

Excitement rises from my chest into my throat and then my head. My eyes and ears throb intensely as I part my lips when his tongue starts making advances. As soon as I open to him, his tongue moves all the way into my mouth, sliding against mine, triggering spirals of pleasure.

I shift my hand farther back, taking a handful of his hair and holding on to it. I push into him more enthusiastically, and he falls back onto his cushion, pulling me on top of him. Our prone position doesn’t break the kiss. It deepens it. I’m sprawled out on top of him, trying to get him closer, trying to suck his tongue even farther into my mouth.

He’s every bit as urgent and greedy as I am. His hands move down my body, sliding down my back until he’s gripping my ass. I’m still wearing my jeans and sweatshirt, but it feels like he’s touching my bare skin. My body—the whole world—is pulsing with my heartbeat. My skin has flushed hotly, and an ache has tightened between my legs that’s impossible not to recognize.

Aidan is breathing heavily through his nose, and his body is tensing. Hardening. The bulge of his erection grows against my hip. He occasionally makes a sexy sound into the kiss—a hoarse, hungry groan that’s completely unlike his typical clever nonchalance.

It’s like he’s so into this—into me—that he can’t help giving it voice.

His hands move over my body, caressing my thighs, my back, the curve of my butt.

My pussy is now clenching excitedly around nothing, and my heart might just beat all the way out of my chest. I adjust slightly so I can grind against the hardness of his erection.

He jerks his head to the side and groans—long, thick, and soft.

And I feel the most unexpected response.

When men have been turned on by me in the past, it’s felt like I have a certain kind of power over them. I’ve been able to use that to manipulate them, to get them to keep me alive and give me what I need.

But that’s not what I’m feeling right now. I barely know how to describe it.

Maybe responsibility.

Like Aidan needs me and it’s my job to take care of him. Even in this.

He’s mine to take care of.

It startles me so much I grow still. Lift my head to stare down at him. Fight back a flutter of fear.

His eyes had fallen closed as I rubbed against him, but they open now. Scan me closely. He’s flushed and breathless as he says, “We can stop, love. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“You look… scared.”

“I am scared,” I admit, too far gone to question my instinct to tell him the deepest truth. “I’ve never done this before.”

He nods and lifts a hand to cup my cheek. “We can wait.”

“I don’t want to wait. I want this. I just… It’s new to me. To be with someone like this. I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing.”

“It feels new to me too, love. That’s the truth. I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing either. So why don’t we do the best we can?”

I smile, just a little shaky. “Yeah. That sounds good. Let’s do that.”

He pulls my head back down into another kiss, this one softer, gentler. He caresses my body over my clothes. He sustains it for a long time until I’ve relaxed and the ache of arousal has built up even stronger.

When I’m urgent and needy again, I break the kiss so I can pull my sweatshirt and the shirt beneath it off over my head. I didn’t put on my bra this morning, so my breasts bounce freely from the motion.

Aidan stares hotly, making another hungry sound in his throat and distracted from taking his own clothes off. “Fuck, love, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you.”

His words sound genuine rather than skillful, and they cover me with a warm pleasure. I use that opportunity to shimmy out of my jeans and panties. His eyes are still moving over my body as I quickly pull the two braids out of my hair so it’s falling loose over my back and shoulders.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, visibly overwhelmed with whatever he sees in me. He’s completely naked now, and his cock is fully erect, tilted up against his belly. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

For some reason, I’m so emotional I can’t speak. I smile down on him so he knows his appreciation means something to me. Then I lean down to kiss him again.

He responds enthusiastically, sliding his tongue into my mouth and gripping the soft flesh where my ass meets the back of my thighs. I’m so turned on I can’t lie still. I squirm my hips as we kiss, trying to get some friction where I need it.

His fingers are getting more intrusive now. They’ve pulled apart my butt cheeks and are edging in toward my hot pussy. It feels so good I whimper against his mouth.

I adjust to reach between our bodies so I can get my hands on his cock.

He grunts as I touch him and turns his head slightly out of the kiss. “Breanna, love, we should slow down.”

It takes an act of will to respond to his words and move my hands. Lift my head to meet his eyes. “You want to slow down?”

“I want this to be good for you. And all I’ve managed to do is fumble around like a clumsy adolescent. Obviously, I’m ready to go. But if we slow down, I can manage some better foreplay so you’re ready for me too.”

I swallow over a little laugh. “I’m ready now.”

“Seriously?” He frowns and reaches to feel between my thighs. His expression changes as he slides his finger to part my folds and then feels how wet I’ve gotten.

“Yes. I guess your adolescent fumbling really does it for me.”

His eyes blaze with something hot and pleased. He penetrates me with one finger, making me gasp in pleasure.

He shifts the position of his hand and slides two fingers inside me, curling them until they’re pushing against my G-spot. I inhale hoarsely and drop my head backward as the pleasure tightens quickly.

I’m so off-balance I have to reach behind me to grip his thighs as a climax builds fast and hard.

“Oh fuck, love, you’re so hot, so beautiful. This one’s just for you. Come for me just like that.”

I’m so close I start getting urgent, trying to ride his fingers and claim the release before he takes it away. “Feels so good. Please don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to stop, love. This is for you. Take what you need.” The words aren’t rough or demanding like the sexy talk I’ve heard before. They’re gentle. Giving. They make me feel safe at the same time they turn me on.

I fall into an orgasm before I expect it, shuddering through the ripples of release and letting out a thick exhale as my body tightens and then softens.

He’s smiling when he pulls his hand out from between my legs and then pulls me back down into a kiss.

“Thank you,” I mumble against his mouth. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He strokes my hair and my butt. Pulls back slightly so he can see my face. “I think I enjoyed it just as much as you did.”

That makes me laugh. I kiss him again, smiling against his mouth. The feel and scent and sound of him beneath me gets me going again. I lift myself up and straddle his hips to get into position.

His eyes are running up and down my face and body. He’s breathing in fast, thick pants. When he reaches down to hold his cock upright so it will be in an easier position for me to sheathe him, I notice that his hand is shaking slightly.

I check his face again and see deep tension there. Maybe anticipation. Maybe restraint.

Maybe nerves.

“You having second thoughts, love?” he asks, mild but with a lot of gravel in his voice.

“No. Not at all. Just making sure you’re still into this.”

He huffs with breathy amusement and then meets my eyes. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been so into anything in my entire life. Do you really not know that by now?”

I have no idea how to process that admission, but it feels like it needs an answer. So I whisper, “Same here.”

He hears me. His mouth and eyes soften. “Shall we try this then? I’m pretty far gone, but I’ll do my best not to lose it after the first ten seconds.”

His dry tone helps. Makes me snicker. I reposition, raising myself up on my thighs and then lining up over his cock. I sink down, taking him slowly into my body.

He’s a good size, but he’s also a regular man. The penetration feels full, tight, but not painful. My inner muscles yield and cling to the length and breadth of him as his cock edges in.

I suck in eager breaths as I shift over him, deeply relieved that it feels good.

Nothing but good.

“How is it, love?” He sounds more breathless than ever. He’s closed his eyes and turned his head to the side. I might have been worried had it not been obvious that he’s trying to hold on to his control.

“Good.” I rock very slightly forward and back, reaching down to rub his chest. Then slide my hands up to his face. “It’s really good.”

“Good,” he breathes. He must have a stronger grip on his control now because he’s gazing up at me again. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Look at you, love. I could never stop looking at you and spend the rest of my life satisfied.”

The raw sincerity of his words spread over me like a warm blanket. I’ve had a lot of sex in my life, but no one has ever made me feel beautiful, special, in the midst of it.

Not until right now.

I’m emotional again, too much to indulge it. I’m tempted to shift the mood with a joke or a wry comment, but that doesn’t feel right. So I don’t say anything. I lean down and press my lips against his.

It changes the angle of penetration. Both of us moan into the kiss.

He slides his hands down to cup my bottom, and I rock my hips again, riding him slow and gentle as our mouths play together. I can’t move fast in this position anyway or he’d slip right out of my pussy. And the motion matches the rhythm of our kiss.

We keep it up like that for a while. He grips my ass to hold me in position, making small thrusts in time with my rocking.

I could have kept doing only that and been perfectly happy, but eventually the sensual pleasure triggers a more urgent need. An orgasm starts to coil at my center, and soon the need is strong enough that I have to pull out of the kiss. Brace myself on his shoulders and ride him more urgently.

“That’s right, love,” he murmurs thickly, loosening his hold on me as I straighten up. His hands slide from my bottom to my thighs and then up to my breasts. “Just like that. Take what you want.”

I choke on a whimper as I move above him, my breasts jiggling and my hair flying into my face. “Aidan. Aidan, please don’t stop.”

“Why would I stop? I’m not going to stop. Keep going just like that. You’re almost there. I want to see you come again.” He starts to buck his hips up from below more vigorously, intensifying the friction.

I make a silly sob of relief as it pushes me closer to an orgasm. I eagerly meet and match his thrusts until the tension finally breaks, pushing me over the edge.

With a soft, strangled cry, I shake through a hard orgasm. My pussy clamps down around his cock as I spasm, and it’s evidently enough to push Aidan into climax too.

He lets out a few animalistic grunts as his body rocks through his final thrusts. I’m coming down as his face twists, and he lets out a raspy exclamation of release.

I’m still rocking gently as his hips jerk through the last of his aftershocks. Both of us are gasping. There’s a tear streaming down my cheek for some reason.

“Oh fuck, love,” he finally says. “That was… fuck.”

A silly giggle escapes me. I lean down to nuzzle his neck. His jaw. “That was indeed… fuck.”

His body shakes in silent laughter. He wraps one arm around me and tangles the fingers of his other into my tousled hair. His cock is softening, and it’s slipped out from our new position and the slickness of my fluids and his.

“Shit,” he says after a minute, lifting his head. His body has been deliciously relaxed after sex, but now it tenses up again. “I should have pulled out, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably. If we were being safe. But I honestly didn’t think of it either. And I don’t think I’ll get pregnant.”

He frowns. “Why not? Wrong time of the month?”

“Yeah. It is. But in all the time I was fucking those other guys, I never got pregnant. A couple of them didn’t even try to be careful. I’m not sure I’m…” I shake my head. I’ve never felt like my infertility was a problem or a burden. It was always a deep relief. But I feel weird about it now—telling Aidan. “I’m not sure I can get pregnant.”

“All right. But I don’t mind pulling out to be safe.” He makes a choked sound. “Assuming you want us to do this again.”

I laugh at that. Lean down to kiss him one more time before I swing my leg over his hips and settle beside him. “I definitely want us to do this again.”

He smiles at me, warm and real and deep. Genuine. The real self he hasn’t let anyone see in so long. “Good. Because I want that too.”

He pulls me against him, wrapping an arm around me. I feel kind of sloppy between my legs and I need to pee, but that can wait a few more minutes.

For now, this feels exactly right.

8

IT’S time to leave the following morning.

A foolish part of me doesn’t want to go. There’s something safe and special about this mountaintop church—cut off from the rest of the world, separated from the bleak realities of living life as it is.

Aidan and I have been existing in a bubble of intimacy and vulnerability for the past few days, but it can’t last forever.

For one thing, it won’t be long until we run out of food.

So after we wake up, wash, dress, eat some jerky and the last of our bread, pack, and neatly fold up the blankets and robes we’ve used (Aidan’s initiative), we’re ready to leave.

My leg is a lot better. I’ve gotten more rest over the past few days than I’ve had in years, so that really helped it heal. I feel better overall than I did before we arrived, and that clench of stress I’ve always walked around with has transformed into a giddy excitement.

About Aidan. About what my life might look like now that Aidan is a part of it.

We haven’t made any plans. Or any promises. I’m not foolish enough to assume a few days means a lifetime commitment. But I have absolutely no doubt that Aidan is serious about me, and that means something.

I don’t know what it will look like when we come down off this mountain, but it means something.

I’ve zipped up my pack and am about to strap it onto my back when Aidan takes it from me. Pulls the straps onto his shoulders while I frown at him.

“What?” he asks.

“I can carry my own load.” I’m not resentful or even annoyed. Mostly I figure I should at least lodge the objection.

“I know you can. But maybe I want to carry it for you.”

His response is light, almost teasing, but it hits me strangely. I swallow. Glance away.

“Is it all right if I carry it?” he asks softly.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

When I turn back to him, he’s smiling. “I’m planning to drop it into my cart as soon as we reach it anyway.”

I choke on a laugh. “Always practical. That’s my Aidan.”

When I hear what I’ve just said, I’m startled and slightly embarrassed, but Aidan doesn’t react as if I’ve said anything inappropriate. Just murmurs, “Yes, I am,” as he strides toward the exterior door.

I follow him, glancing back over my shoulder with a silly flicker of nostalgia for this quiet, sacred space.

We reach his cart in a few minutes, and it’s not difficult to dig it out of the snow since so much has melted. Aidan settles my pack on top of the supplies in his cart and gives me a little smile. “Here we go.”

“Yep. I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m kind of sad about leaving.”

“I know. I feel the same way. I’ve got this knot of dread about how everything will change once we get back down there.”

“Do you think… Do you think this is only a week’s fling?”

He shrugs. “It doesn’t feel that way to me. What about you?”

“No. But it’s impossible not to realize it’s all going to change when we get back to our regular lives. I mean…” I cough as my voice breaks. “I mean, what will we even do?”

He pushes his cart onto the road, and I fall into step with him, holding on to one of the handles to help him since when the slope gets steep, we’ll have to make sure it doesn’t roll away from us. “What would you like for us to do? What do you want this to look like after today?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know?”

I’m a bit frustrated since he’s putting the decision-making entirely on me. I’d prefer to know what he wants before I clarify my own preferences. “It’s difficult to say without even knowing the options.”

“Ah. I see. Well, we can do anything as far as I’m concerned. We can go back to how we were before and take some time before we make any changes. We can meet up occasionally to have some fun but otherwise live our own lives. We can split territory and each handle our own jobs but set up a home base where we get together. Or we could… we could travel together. Do jobs together.”

My hand tightens on the handle. “Wow. You’ve put some thought into this.”

“Yes. I have. I told you before, and I still mean it now. There’s never going to be any pressure on you. Not from me. You’ve had enough of that in your life, and I’ll never force more on you. We can do whatever you’re most comfortable with. The only thing I ask is that you don’t go back to hating me. I’m not sure I could live with that.”

“I don’t want that either.” I reach over and touch his arm over the sleeve of his coat. “You don’t really think I’d pretend none of this ever happened, do you?”

“Not really. But sometimes we go to great lengths to protect ourselves emotionally. I’m exhibit one in that regard.”

“What do you mean?”

He turns his head to meet my eyes. “I was hurt. Very badly. And instead of dealing with it, I pretended I didn’t care. About anything. A good man would have worked through the pain and maintained his compassion and moral compass. He would have continued to do good in the world. I did none of those things.”

“But—” I cut off my own objection because Aidan is telling the truth. I can hardly deny it. “What happened to you is understandable. Who’s going to blame you after what you went through?”

“I blame myself. I’m not a good man, Breanna.”

“I think you are. You’re a good man who lost his way.”

“Your… your faith in me matters to me. More than you’ll ever know. But you don’t know everything I’ve been. And life hurt you as much as it hurt me, but you didn’t lose yourself.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No.” His back stiffens, and for the first time he loses the mildness of his composure. “You didn’t.”

I think about that. Wonder—hope—he’s right. But I’m not sure. For a long time, I’ve felt emptied of everything that genuinely makes me human.

“You had your sister,” he adds. “Your connection to her kept you from ever becoming me.”

My eyes burn, and I bite my lip as I think about Del. About how taking care of her was the only thing that gave me purpose and meaning on my very worst days. “Yeah. But it’s not your fault you didn’t have any family left to hold on to.”

“Maybe.”

We’re quiet for a few minutes, wrapped up in our own thoughts. The wheels of the cart as they turn crunch softly in the remaining snow.

Then finally he asks in an almost diffident voice, “So what would you like things to look like when we get back?”

“I guess… I think… You wouldn’t mind if I travel with you?” I search his expression for any sign of reluctance or anxiety.

His eyes blaze with warm relief. “No. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“Then maybe we can try that. At least to start with. If being together all the time doesn’t work, then we can figure something else out that lets us do some of our own jobs. But I don’t want us to be in competition. And I don’t want to only see you occasionally.”

“Good. I don’t want that either.”

There’s no way for me to doubt that he means it.

In the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him so happy.

It makes me happy too.

We camp overnight and reach the militia compound around noon the following day.

Agatha is expecting only one of us to make it back first. Aidan offered for me to claim the win for returning with the wine, but I refused, so we give the bottles to her together.

“This was not the deal,” she says, her eyebrows lifting in skeptical amusement. “What happened to the contest?”

“We changed terms,” I explain. There’s no reason to give this woman any details on our relationship.

Her eyes move from me to Aidan. “I see that. So what do you expect me to do with this?”

“You’ve got the wine you requested. So you can pay us whatever you would have paid one of us. If you’d like to choose only one of us to work with you in the future, that’s fine. Or we’re both happy to work with you.” I meet her eyes evenly to show that I’m serious. “It’s entirely up to you.”

“And if I declare my offer void because you changed the terms?”

“That’s your decision. We’d like to work with you, and we think we could do a lot of jobs for you that would be an unnecessary risk for your own people. But it’s up to you. We’re not asking for anything more than we were as individuals, but we’re also not asking any less.”

She stares at me for a long time. Cuts her gaze over to Aidan and then returns it to me. Her mouth twitches slightly, like she’s laughing inside. “All right. It’s a deal. We can work out a fair trade for the wine, and if you check in from time to time, I’ll probably have some more jobs for you.” She shakes her head. “You’re still young. If you’re having a good time with him, then have at it. But don’t give him your power. And you’d be wise to temper your faith.”

Aidan doesn’t make a sound, but he stiffens beside me.

“I can handle my own situation,” I tell her.

“I can see that. And with another man, I’d say you could have what you want and still be in control.” She leans forward and says in a low murmur that’s still audible throughout the room. “But this is not a man you can tame.”

I bite back a retort since getting into a fight would be ridiculous when we just came to a work agreement, but I flash her an angry glare.

It only makes her laugh.

“It’s fine, love,” Aidan says, putting a hand on my back. “It doesn’t matter.”

I glance up. He doesn’t look offended or annoyed. Mostly resigned. And he’s not going to be happy if we miss out on this partnership because I lose my temper.

So I swallow down my annoyance and nod. Manage a smile in Agatha’s direction. “You’re assuming I want to tame him.”

She chuckles again and moves back behind her desk. “We all want to tame them, girl. We all do.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything.

Agatha lets us spend the afternoon and night at the compound so we can restock our supplies, have a hot meal, a bath, and sleep in a real bed.

Since we don’t have to interact with Agatha herself any further, we gratefully accept the invitation.

We don’t talk about what Agatha said that afternoon—not until we get in bed and turn off the lantern.

Aidan pulls me into his arms, and I relax my body against his, feeling safe. Cared for. More affectionate than I ever knew I could be.

“Are you still upset about what Agatha said?” he asks, nuzzling my loose hair.

“No. I’m okay.” I run my hands up and down his bare back. His body is lean and strong and very warm. “Kind of annoyed with her when I think about it, but otherwise fine.”

“In her worldview, men either have to be fought or be tamed. I can only imagine what she went through as part of a militia group. She probably has good reason for thinking the way she does.”

“Yeah. I get it. I don’t know why I let her get to me. I’m not usually so prickly.”

He’s stroking my body now too. Rubbing my thighs and then sliding his hands up under the short cotton gown I picked out from their stock of extra clothes this afternoon. “You’re sometimes prickly.” He sounds fond and teasing.

It makes me smile. “I’m only prickly when certain people purposefully provoke the quills.”

He chuckles against my mouth. Kisses me gentle and slow.

I arch my neck with pleasure, enjoying the gradual sensual build. I’ve never felt soft like this before. I’ve felt weak. Powerless. Terrified. And I’ve felt tough—with internal armor I would never take off.

But I’ve never felt soft. Vulnerable in a good way, knowing it was safe.

Not like I do with Aidan.

It’s a gift. A blessing. I revel in it as my body responds to his tender advances.

He kisses and caresses me for a long time until I’m hot and pliant and flushed and trying not to squirm. He’s pushed my gown up above my breasts and has his mouth on one of my nipples, teasing and tugging as I arch and writhe beneath him. Then his hand explores beneath my legs.

I part my thighs, bending my legs at the knee to expose myself to him more fully.

He mumbles in approval against my breast.

The feel of his fingers in my pussy makes me gasp.

“No prickles now,” he murmurs, sliding two fingers inside me.

I’m very wet, very clingy. I comb my fingers through his thick hair. “Maybe a few.”

“No. None.” He pumps his fingers, and I arch up dramatically, letting out a low, shameless moan. “Nothing but warm, lush, sweet softness.”

That’s exactly how I feel as he brings me to orgasm with his hand. As I get close, I fist my fingers in his hair and tug excitedly. Gasp, “Please, Aidan. I’m close. Please don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He murmurs out soothing encouragements as I shake through the climax.

Then he lifts himself up on straightened arms and smiles down on me. “That was beautiful.”

I’m utterly replete from the release. My body feels boneless, and I’m smiling back at him like a fool. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

He kisses me. “Maybe we can make you feel even better.”

“I wouldn’t say no to that.” I reach down and dip my hands beneath the waistband of his underwear. Stroke his hard cock. “And maybe we can make you feel good at the same time.”

“I already feel better than anything.” He straightens up to pull off his boxer briefs and then settles between my legs again. He adjusts my knees to make more room for him.

We both groan as he pushes his cock inside me.

Like the first time, I’m stretched but not in pain. I shift restlessly until I get used to the penetration. I lift my hands to cup his face. “You okay?”

He huffs in amusement and opens his eyes. His body tensed up as he entered me, but now it’s relaxing. “I’m far better than okay. I’ve never been so okay in my entire life.”

“You always know exactly what to say.”

“Only because I’m telling you the truth.”

He holds my gaze as he starts to roll his hips, thrusting in a steady, satisfying rhythm. I rock my pelvis up to meet his pumps, creating a sexy slapping sound.

He huffs out a throaty exhale on every instroke, and soon we’re going at it so enthusiastically that the bed is squeaking softly. The friction and the motion are really doing it for me. The sensations keep surging in wave after wave until I’m making helpless sobbing sounds as I reach for the climax that’s almost there.

“Please don’t stop!” I hear myself beg, clawing at the back of his neck with my fingernails.

“I won’t, love. I’ve got you. You can let go. You’re going to feel so good.”

His words somehow push me over the edge. I cry out, trying to muffle the sound against his shoulder. He keeps thrusting into my clenching pussy, making loud, primal grunts now as he works toward his own release. Then he freezes and falls over the edge in a series of clumsy jerks and raspy exclamations.

He comes inside me, rolling his hips through the final spurts.

I try to catch my breath as I rub my hands down his back and hold on to his firm ass.

After a couple of minutes, his shoulders shake a few times. “Damn. I was supposed to pull out.”

I giggle. “Yes, you were.”

“Sorry about that.” He lifts his head to check my expression.

I smile at him. “It’s okay. Like I said, I don’t think I can get pregnant anyway.”

In the old world, I could have gone to the doctor. They could have run tests. We could have figured out what was wrong with my fertility and maybe done something about it.

But this isn’t the old world anymore, and some things simply can’t be fixed.

It’s never bothered me before. I’m not sure why I feel the slightest little twinge in my chest right now.

He rubs his face against mine. “How do you feel, love?”

“I feel really good. Thank you for being so good to me in bed.”

He tenses up for just a moment before he relaxes again. “You don’t have to thank me for doing something any decent man would.”

“Maybe. But I’ve never been with a decent man before. So thank you.”

He kisses me again. Then rolls us both over onto our sides and settles me against him so I’m not bearing his full weight.

We lie together like that for a long time, our bodies tangled together.

And I start to wonder if it’s possible for me to have this—have him just like this—for the rest of my life.

It would be a miracle. An unexpected benediction.

But maybe even this bleak, violent world can occasionally offer this kind of gift.

Three days later, I’m back in Monument.

For now I’m by myself although Aidan is planning to join me here tomorrow after stopping by to pick up new jobs from James in Sharpsburg.

It’s strange to be alone after having Aidan by my side for so many days now, but it also makes it a little easier.

I have to somehow explain to Del and Cole how things have changed so dramatically in only a couple of weeks.

When I last left Monument, I didn’t want anything to do with Aidan. And now we’re… together.

Whatever that means.

I give a portion of my earnings from the jobs I’ve done to the town—my normal gesture toward being part of this community. Then I head for our little cottage.

Fortunately, Del and Cole aren’t in the middle of hot sex when I arrive this time. Cole is working a shift with the construction crew, and Del has finished her morning in the town garden and is on her hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor.

She jumps up as soon as I let myself in the front door, and then she runs over to give me an enthusiastic hug. “Thank God,” she mumbles, squeezing me hard. “I was starting to get scared. You were gone so long.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. I got snowed in.”

“Snowed in? Where?” She looks astonished, and no wonder. It’s been cold and rainy here, but they haven’t had any snow or freezing.

“In the mountains west of here. It’s a long story.”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me the whole thing, but you can come in and get settled first.” She searches my face. Inspects my body. “But you’re okay? Did you get hurt?”

“I had a minor injury but nothing serious. I’m fine.”

“You look… Something has changed.”

“Yeah. It has. Like I said, it’s a long story.”

Del nods. Hugs me again. “I’m so glad to see you. I was getting all these weird forebodings. Cole kept trying to talk me out of them, but they really scared me. I was afraid I might never see you again.”

“I’m really sorry you were scared. But I’m here. I’m okay.”

Del’s reaction and the astuteness of her intuition make me feel kind of churny and uncomfortable. The way I feel when anything gets too deep or vulnerable with anyone other than Aidan.

I hide the discomfort as I go to my room and unpack my bag, making a pile for laundry and then returning my travel supplies back into the bag to be ready for when I leave again.

Stepping over to the old dresser against one wall, I stare at myself in the mirror with a cracked frame above it.

Del could see something has changed in me, but I can’t see it. The reflection gazing back at me is the same as it’s always been. Blue eyes. Pale skin. Freckles. Red hair pulled tightly into two french braids. Full lips. Curvy figure.

Still me.

I don’t know what Del saw in me just now. And I don’t know what Aidan sees every time he looks at me—what makes him soften, deepen, let down his guard.

I can understand why a man might want to fuck me. I have the kind of body a lot of them like the most. But otherwise…

I really don’t know.

Shaking away the poignant reflections since they’re not at all like me, I turn away from the mirror, decide to tackle my laundry tomorrow morning, and then leave the room to join Del in the kitchen.

She’s finishing up her cleaning of the floor, so I kneel down to help her.

“You don’t have to do that,” she tells me. “You must be exhausted.”

“I am tired but not too tired to do a chore or two.”

She looks like she’s about to ask a question but must change her mind. We work on the floor for about twenty minutes until it’s completely scrubbed. Then we pour ourselves glasses of water and take them outside to sit on the porch.

It’s midafternoon, so it’s the warmest part of the day. The sun is breaking out from big gray clouds, and the air is cool and comfortable.

It feels good to sit down. Good to be with my sister again.

She’s the only home I’ve had for eight years.

“So tell me what’s happened,” she says softly after a couple of minutes.

So I do. I start the story at the beginning, explaining everything that’s happened for the past weeks. She stiffens when I describe how Aidan chased me for the package. She’s intrigued by my encounter with Maria and her group of warrior women. She gasps when I explain about the competition Agatha engineered between me and Aidan.

And she’s visibly upset when I try to minimize the danger to me on the trek up the mountain and my treacherous crawl across the bridge.

I’m pretty sure she suspects what’s going to happen next. She grows still. Quiet. Listening without comment.

I tell her about Aidan saving me on the bridge. About how I helped him push his cart up the mountain. About my leg getting injured and how he carried me to the church in the storm.

After I get to the part where I warmed up from the woodstove, I trail off. Strangely embarrassed. Uncertain of how to explain what happened next.

“Breanna?” she prompts, her brown eyes wide. Slightly wary. “What happened between you and Aidan?”

“I…” I break into a little cough. “He… We…”

I’m not the kind of person who gets embarrassed like this. I’ve tackled uncomfortable topics with Del—including my decisions to let men fuck me—without flinching.

“You got closer?” she asks, strangely gentle, as if she’s worried she’ll overstep. Spook me.

“Yes. We were trapped together for four days. The snow was too high to get out, and my leg needed to heal enough to walk.”

“So you got to know each other? Understand each other?”

I nod, glancing away.

“Did he make a move on you, Breanna?”

I suck in a sharp breath and turn back. “No. He never did. He didn’t want to pressure me. But we… we did have sex.”

There. I kind of blurted it out, but it feels better to get it said.

Del doesn’t look surprised. “And what… what was it like? I mean, you actually wanted it, right?”

“Yes. I wanted it. It was the first time I ever…”

Fuck. Why the hell can’t I talk about this like a normal person? Why does it all feel so forbidden?

So dangerous.

She reaches out to put a hand on my forearm. Squeezes it lightly in an empathetic gesture.

Then I notice that her fingers are trembling slightly.

“What’s wrong, Del?”

She gulps visibly. “I’m really glad you were able to be with someone like that. That you’ve gotten to the point of wanting to share that with someone.”

“But…?”

“But it feels awfully quick.”

I’m irrationally defensive, but I try to stamp it down since Del isn’t wrong in what she’s saying. “I know it’s quick. But sometimes it happens that way. You knew Cole was the one for you in less time than that. Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she admits. “I did. But I was wrong to trust him when I did. He wasn’t…” She gives her head a hard shake. “He wasn’t ready for a real relationship at that point. And he hurt me. Really bad. You’re the one who warned me back then.”

“I know I did. But things are different. I’m a lot older than you were. I’m not inexperienced or trusting or inclined to delude myself with romantic hopes. You know I’m not.”

“I know that. And normally I know you’re smart enough to make good decisions that will keep your heart safe. But Aidan…”

“What’s wrong with Aidan?” For the first time, resentment sharpens my tone.

“I really like him. You know I do. I liked him from the beginning. But he’s… he’s lived a really long time thinking only about himself.”

I bite back my immediate retort. Make myself think clearly. Then say, “He had his reasons for that.”

“I know he did. Just like Cole had his reasons for never committing and never staying in one place. Not being in a place where he can commit doesn’t make someone a bad man. But it makes him a dangerous choice to fall in love with. I don’t want you to get hurt like I did, Breanna.” She’s hoarse and emotional now. “I know you’re not nearly as naive and inexperienced as I was when Cole broke my heart, but you don’t have experience with real intimate relationships any more than I did. This is new to you. And you’ve come so far. You’ve done so well. You’ve always been so strong. So brave. You’ve always protected me.”

Tears are streaming from her eyes now. They make my chest ache. “Del.”

“I’m sorry.” She wipes the tears away quickly. “I’m sorry to cry like this. But I want you to hear me. You gave up your life and anything you might want for years just to take care of me. But I want to protect you too. You have a life now. A life I thought you were liking.”

“I am.”

“And I couldn’t stand it if your heart got broken when you’re finally able to live for yourself.”

It takes me a minute to get any words out. Her emotion is upsetting me, and so is what she’s saying. “I get that. I do. And I don’t want to throw away everything I’ve gained for myself in the past year. But in some ways, I’ve been running away from really living life. And… and being with Aidan reminded me that maybe I don’t have to. I want to be happy, Del. But I think I can be happier with him.”

“Okay.” She’s visibly swallowing over the aftermath of her tears. “Okay. I trust you. And I want to trust Aidan too, but I’m not quite there yet. This has been… fast.”

“I know it has. You don’t have to trust him yet. But can you at least trust me?”

“Yes. Just… Let me just say one more thing.”

“What is it?” I’m oddly nervous, waiting to hear it.

“The reason Cole broke my heart wasn’t because he didn’t want me. It wasn’t because he didn’t care about me. It was because he had another priority—one he had to sacrifice everything else for—and he wasn’t yet ready to set it aside. His brother had been his priority for years, and he couldn’t give that up.”

“I know that. And I also know he changed. You’re his priority now.”

“Yes. But it took him two years.”

“Aidan doesn’t have a brother. He doesn’t have… anyone but me.”

“I believe that. But all this time he’s lived with one priority. Taking care of himself. He was never an evil man, but he also didn’t let himself be a good one. Self-preservation was the one thing that guided him. Are you sure—are you absolutely sure—that he’s changed in that? That he’s not going to let that sense of self-preservation be more important than you?”

The whole world shudders with the tension in my chest, in my heart. “I… I really believe that he’s changed.”

“Okay.”

“That self-preservation was never who he really was. It was just the way he was able to get through life and trauma. And he’s finally able to let it go. He’s proved that to me.”

“Okay.” She squeezes my forearm again. “Okay. Then I’m happy for you.”

“Are you?” I peer at her closely, looking for the truth.

“Yes. I’m still a little anxious, but I can get over that. I’ve always liked him. You know that. And I think the two of you are a good match. I told Cole a while back that the reason you two grated on each other so much is because you’re so much alike. It’s like you weren’t lined up quite right, but once you were, you could click perfectly into place.”

That makes me chuckle. I like the mental image. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“Just be careful with your heart.”

“I will. You know me. I always am.”

The words are familiar. I’ve said them to Del before. More than once. And they used to always be true.

But I’ve changed as much as Aidan has, and I don’t want to always be holding life at arm’s length for fear that it might hurt me.

I want a real life. And the only way to get it is to finally—finally—take a risk with my heart.

9

AIDAN ARRIVES the next day exactly as we planned. He brings with him the barrel of corn and the outfit for Cole the folks in Sharpsburg were holding for me after completion of the package delivery.

James gave us a couple of new jobs that we should be able to take care of within a few days.

With other people, Aidan is back to his clever nonchalance, never giving anything away and never acting like he cares very much. It doesn’t bother me because I know it’s not real—and he doesn’t act like that with me.

He stays with me in my room in the cottage. It’s odd to have him in our domestic space, but it also gives me a giddy kind of pleasure.

Like it’s real.

It wasn’t simply a mountaintop experience. Our relationship didn’t only exist in that isolated bubble. When we’re alone, Aidan’s eyes and his mouth are just as soft as I remember. His hands are just as gentle. His voice is just as tender.

Del was doing her best to protect me when she warned me about trusting him too much, but she was wrong. We might not know exactly what this thing between us will look like in the future, but he’s in it for real. As much as I am.

We go to bed together when the sun goes down and make love—quiet, urgent missionary in the dark. He murmurs about how beautiful I am. How much pleasure he wants to give me. How good I make him feel. How he never believed he would deserve to be with someone like me, but he’ll do everything he can to never let me down. Once again, he’s so into it he forgets to pull out before he comes, and once again I like it that way.

I’ve never experienced anything comparable. Never shared anything so deep with another person.

It’s right. It has to be right.

The next day, he takes a shift guarding the perimeter wall with me. He’s a guest in town, so he wouldn’t be required to work, but he says since he’ll probably be here quite a bit, he doesn’t want to wear out his welcome.

In the afternoon, there’s a big stir in town. Maria and her group of women arrive.

I’m excited about seeing her—that she’s actually followed through with her promise. I introduce her to Cole and Del and to the town leaders, and she explains that they’ve scouted out the criminal stronghold and have a plan for taking it down. She’s sent a messenger back to summon reinforcements from people she knows farther west, and she’s going to start visiting communities in this region to gather volunteers.

No one has ever done anything like that in this area. Towns take care of their own, but they do so by hunkering down and guarding their borders. Not by risking lives to attack bad guys even if their presence is a threat.

I’m afraid she’s going to have a hard road in front of her in finding the numbers she needs, but I volunteer immediately. So does Cole, as I knew he would. His brother is there, and he still wants to get him back.

Del is brave enough to go, but she’s not any good with weapons or tactical maneuvers. She’s got bad eyesight, so she’s as likely to hit a good guy as a bad one if she tried to shoot. But not for a moment does she try to dissuade me and Cole.

When Maria asks Aidan, he blinks in surprise at the question. Glances over toward me. “I go where she goes,” he says, as if it’s so self-evident that no one should even ask. So he’s a yes too.

The town leaders are wary, but we find a few others who say they’re willing to help.

The raid won’t be for a few more weeks since we need to wait for enough reinforcements to make it a doable effort. Maria leaves the following day to start visiting other communities, and that gives Aidan and me a window of time to tackle a few more jobs. We make plans to leave the next morning.

I’m excited. About all of it. And about spending another night with Aidan, sleeping in his arms.

I start to believe that this could be what my life looks like from here on out.

Our first stop for James is a small settlement an eight-hour hike away. It’s basically a farm with some houses built around it. Fifty or sixty total residents there.

I actually suggest we make the stops in a different order—starting with the farthest away—but Aidan is insistent on heading here first, and it doesn’t really matter to me.

So we hike to the farm settlement and arrive late in the afternoon. They gratefully accept the sugar and dried fish Sharpsburg sent and give us jarred jams and dressings in return.

Since it’s so late in the day when we get there, they let us spend the night, providing us a small cabin on the outskirts of the farm that they must use as a guesthouse since it’s set up with provisions.

I’m pleased with the lodgings. We were thinking we might have to camp, and when we spend the night in the outdoors, sex is off the table. There’s too much risk exposed at night, so one of us always has to stay on guard.

In a house, however, especially one in a settled community, we can have sex.

I never thought I’d be the kind of person who’d get so excited about sex, and I always shook my head at women who acted like it was a priority in life.

But every evening I’m excited about going to bed with Aidan, touching and being touched by him, hearing what he says to me, feeling so safe and so cherished. The physical pleasure is only a part of it for me and not even the most important thing. The emotions are what really get me going.

That night, we’re all alone in the cabin, and we feel far enough away from the rest of the community to have real privacy. I wash up as best I can and brush my hair and teeth before I put on the one gown I own.

I climb into bed and wait as Aidan takes off his clothes and washes up. He doesn’t bother putting anything on since we’ll be taking it right back off. So he’s naked as he climbs under the sheet with me.

He pulls me over to kiss me. “Hello, love,” he murmurs.

For some reason, the greeting makes me giggle. I comb my fingers through his hair. “Hello.”

“Very nice of them to let us stay here.” He’s already got his hands under my gown, rubbing my butt and the back of my thighs.

“Yes. And very convenient for us since we get to do this instead of camping.”

“Indeed. This is entirely preferable.”

I reach between us and feel his cock. It’s already partially erect. Given his age, he’s really quite virile. It takes him almost no time to get hard.

Since I’m energetic this evening, I push him over onto his back and kiss my way down his body until my face is hovering over his groin.

He stifles a groan. Shifts his hips. “You teasing me, sweetheart?”

“Maybe.” I give him a sly smile and then play with the head of his cock with my tongue.

He jerks slightly, like he’s restraining a thrust.

When I lower my head farther, licking a line up the underside of his shaft and then taking the head in my mouth and sucking it, he brushes my hair back, gathering it into one hand so he can hold it, keep it out of my face.

“I’m not going to last long like this, love,” he says thickly, his hips starting to rock into the motion of my sucking.

I let him slip out of my mouth and meet his gaze. His face is deeply flushed, and his eyes are hot and hungry. “That’s okay. You don’t have to last.”

“It will take me a while to get going again afterward.”

“That’s okay.” I kiss his belly. Move lower to mouth his balls very gently. Then say, “We have all night.”

He groans uninhibitedly when I take his cock in my mouth again. This time I try to remember all my skills. I relax my throat muscles enough to take him deeper without triggering my gag reflex. I bob my head, sucking rhythmically. Hard.

“Oh my fucking God!” he rasps, his back arching and his free hand fumbling with the sheet beneath him. “How are you doing this to me, love? I’m… I’m…”

He’s coming. Already. His hand tightens in my hair, and he makes small, jerky thrusts into my mouth as his body spasms through his release. He comes into my throat, and I’m relieved to realize I haven’t forgotten how to handle it. I swallow down his semen. Manage not to choke or spit any out.

He’s gasping as his muscles unclench. He pulls me up and settles me on top of him, holding me tightly as he remembers how to speak.

I kiss his shoulder. His throat. Tilt my head up so I can kiss his jaw.

“Thank you, love,” he says at last. He finds my mouth. Kisses it gently. “You just blew my head off.”

Giggling, I cuddle close to him, twining my legs with his. “It does look like I did pretty good.”

“You did better than good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“If you give me a minute to catch my breath, then I can do something for you too.”

“I’m in no hurry.” I am turned on, surprisingly enough. I’ve given hundreds of blow jobs in my life, but I’ve never gotten aroused from doing it—not until right now. But I’m also telling him the truth about not being impatient.

I’m enjoying this—his warm aftermath—as much as the act of sex.

We cuddle for a few minutes. Then he turns me over onto my back and starts kissing me again. It goes on for a long time, but I’m not sure I could ever get bored with his devoted attention. Eventually he kisses his way down my body. I’m in a sensual daze of slowly building pleasure so it barely registers when he’s mouthed his way down to my lower belly.

He’s pulling my thighs apart and nuzzling the light hair at my groin when I realize what he’s about to do.

“Aidan.” I reach down to stroke his hair. “You don’t have to do that.”

He lifts his head. “I know I don’t have to.”

“What I mean is that you don’t have to feel obliged just because I did you. I like to come in other ways.”

His eyebrows lower into a small frown. “You don’t want me to?”

“It’s not that. Just that you don’t have to.”

“Sweetheart, I want to do this for you. If you don’t want me to, please tell me. It won’t bother me. But I want to do this.”

I nod a couple of times, working my lower lip with my teeth. “It’s just that I’ve never… No one has ever…”

“Then I’m happy to be the first if that’s what you want too.”

It’s unnerving how young I feel right now, when I haven’t felt young since I was seventeen. “Okay. Thank you.”

He flashes me a smile that breaks through some of my nerves. “Don’t thank me until you see how I do.”

I laugh since that’s what he’s trying for. And I do feel better as he kisses my belly and then my thighs. He lifts my hips and slides a pillow beneath my ass to give him better access. His hands are gentle as he pulls apart my thighs.

“Just tell me if there’s anything about it you don’t like.”

I nod again. Play with his thick hair as he lowers his head. Then he holds me open with his fingers and teases my clit with his tongue.

The intense sensation makes me inhale sharply. He does it again and I arch my spine, the move driven by some bone-deep instinct.

He checks my face. Smiles at what he sees. Then returns to his previous activity with more purpose.

He pays a lot of attention to my clit but doesn’t only focus there. He mouths my folds, slides his tongue into my pussy, kisses my inner thigh, and then sucks my clit again.

I come apart completely after a few more sucks, crying out in surprise at the orgasm hitting me so quickly. He shifts the position of his hand and slides two fingers inside me, pumping them as he applies more suction to my clit.

The pleasure is coiling tight again, building in power. And I need it. I need it.

“Please don’t stop,” I choke out. “I’m so close. Please don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He intensifies his ministrations.

I come again, messier and louder. I’m clutching at his hair now, trying to hold his head in place as I ride out the orgasm. He might have kept going, but when the sensations finally lessen, I tug his head up.

“Is that enough?” he asks.

“Enough?” My throat is blocked by a laugh. “I’ve never come so hard in my life.”

His eyes warm. “Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” I wrap my arms around him when he moves back up my body. “Although I shouldn’t have told you because you were already smug enough.”

“Smug?” It sounds like he’s laughing inside.

“Yes. Definitely smug.”

He kisses me. I burrow against his body, sated and affectionate and clingier than I ever knew myself to be.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling. It feels like he’s thinking about something, and this is proven when he finally asks very softly, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. Why couldn’t you ask me something?”

“You may not want to answer, and that’s okay. But I’d like to ask anyway.”

“Ask what?” For some reason, I’m holding my breath.

“Why do you always beg me not to stop when you’re about to come?”

The mild question lingers in the air for several moments. I lick my lips but otherwise hold myself very still.

“It’s all right if you don’t want to answer,” he adds at last.

I clear my throat. “I don’t mind answering. I actually didn’t realize… I didn’t realize I said that sometimes.”

“You say it every time.” He turns to face me, cupping one of my cheeks. “Like you’re afraid I’m going to stop. That I won’t give you what you need. I hope you know I’ll never do that.”

“I do. I know that. It’s just…” I try to give him an answer. I really do. But I can’t seem to get the words out.

He helps me by murmuring, “You told me there was that one guy in your past. The one who liked to be dominant. You said he liked to play games with you. Did he… withhold?”

“Yes. Yes, he did. He enjoyed it.” My cheeks are burning, and I can’t quite meet his eyes. “He figured out things that turned me on, and he’d get me going on purpose. He wanted me to only ever come from his dick, so he’d test me. See how long I could hold out.”

Aidan slides his hand back into my hair. Combs it back behind my ears. His eyes never leave my face. He’s obviously listening.

“And… and I couldn’t always hold out. I’d come before he said to. So then he would punish me. He’d get me aroused over and over but not let me come for days at a time sometimes.”

He’s breathing heavily now, and his jaw has tensed up, although his hand is moving against my hair with intentional care.

“And the worst thing…” A little sob catches in my throat, so I have to breathe through it before I continue. “The worst thing is that I didn’t fight him. I mean, I couldn’t have overpowered him, but I went to him willingly and he never kept me there by force. I just… I just submitted to it. Took the crumbs of physical pleasure he offered. As if I…”

I’m shaking now. Aidan makes a noise in his throat and pulls me against him. Wraps both arms around me very tightly.

It helps. I’m able to finish the sentence in a harsh whisper. “As if that’s all I deserved.”

He still doesn’t say anything. I’m actually not sure he’s capable of speaking at the moment. He’s clearly reining in a strong reaction to what I’ve told him. But he keeps hugging me, squeezing me as tightly as I need.

When I finally feel better—well enough to ease out of his arms—I can’t help but kiss him, responding to the force of feeling in my heart.

The kisses last a long time and turn into more. He rolls me over onto my back. I wrap my legs around him. It’s not long before he’s hard. He adjusts so he can slide himself inside me. We rock together as we kiss, and I hold onto on to him with my arms and legs and mouth and pussy.

He sustains the slow, steady thrusting until my body starts to respond. I gasp and tighten beneath him. Our lips break apart, but our faces are so close I can feel his breath.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You can come. I want you to feel good.”

I whimper as my body starts shaking.

“Let go, love. I’ve got you.”

I cry out as I fall into climax. His motion finally accelerates. It doesn’t take him long to work up to his own release.

He finds my mouth as we lie tangled up together afterward. He caresses my lips with his tongue.

And I realize, for the first time, I wasn’t afraid he would stop before I found my pleasure. He wasn’t going to take away what I needed.

I trusted him to be there to the end.

I didn’t beg him not to stop.

We agreed to have a slow morning the next day because our next destination is only six hours away. I’ve been excited about sleeping in for at least a couple of hours after dawn. It will be almost like a vacation indulgence.

So when I wake up to the feel of the mattress shifting at Aidan getting out of bed and squint through my eyelids to see that it’s still dark outside, I grumble wordlessly and flop over onto my back.

He leans over to kiss me lightly. “Go back to sleep, love.”

“What y’doin’?”

“I’m doing a quick message run. Helping out here since they let us spend the night.”

The pang in my chest is both guilt that I didn’t think about doing that before and appreciation that Aidan did. I fight through lingering sleep to smile up at him. “Okay. Give me just a minute to wake up, and I’ll come too.”

“No need.” He sits on the edge of the bed beside me. He’s wearing nothing but his underwear, which he pulled on after his post-sex cleanup. “You keep sleeping. I’ll be there and back in a couple of hours.”

“But you didn’t get to sleep in.”

“I don’t care that much about sleeping in.” He strokes my right cheekbone with his thumb. “You enjoy it, so there’s no reason you shouldn’t have an easy morning. I won’t be long.”

“Are you sure? I’m supposed to be helping you.”

“You’ve helped me plenty. You’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know.” He leans down to kiss me again. “Get some more sleep, love.”

“Okay. Thank you. Be careful.” I snuggle down into the blankets.

He stands up, looking down at me for a little too long. My eyes are closed again, but I can feel him watching me. Then he gets dressed with quick efficiency and leaves the room.

I open my eyes when I hear the door click. He’s such a sweetie for letting me have a morning to sleep in because he knows I enjoy it. And for asking the folks here if there’s anything we can do for them since they’ve let us spend the night.

Thinking back, I try to remember when he even had the chance to ask about it. I was with him most of the time. Then I shrug away the question since it doesn’t matter.

He must have done it when I didn’t notice. He’s sneaky that way.

A giddy thrill runs through me, and I’m almost embarrassed by it. I pull the covers up over my head in an instinctive gesture that makes me feel like a little girl.

I try to go back to sleep since Aidan has gone out of his way to give me this chance, but my mind is whirling now. I’m picturing him going off by himself on a cold morning. All alone. Like he used to be.

And I suddenly hate that idea. Yes, he’s doing something nice for me, but we’re supposed to do jobs together. There’s no reason he needs to do this alone today. I’m awake, and I already kind of miss him.

Maybe I’ll run and catch up.

I wage a mental debate for about sixty seconds before I decide. Then I jump out of bed, scramble through an abbreviated morning routine, and then gather my stuff and run outside.

Aidan has taken his cart.

That’s the first thing I recognize as strange.

A quick message run of a couple of hours could surely be done with only a pack.

I shrug it off. It doesn’t matter. Aidan is probably used to taking his cart everywhere.

The wheels make obvious grooves in the soft, damp ground, so it’s easy to follow his trail. Even when he moves onto a paved road, it’s no problem following him. The roadway is full of potholes and large gouges. He often has to veer off the road to get around the damage, so I regularly find his track marks.

I frown when I discover he’s turned off the main road. If he’s making a quick run, then surely it’s to one of the nearby settlements. I know where all of them are, and there are none in this direction.

Confused, I pick up my pace. I can’t be more than ten minutes behind him, and he’s pushing the cart. It shouldn’t take me long to catch up with him, and then he can tell me exactly where we’re going.

I hike for about thirty minutes. The road is going uphill and curves steeply into a switchback. As I’m approaching the bend, I hear voices before I see who they belong to.

I slow down. Move into the trees. Someone must be coming from the opposite direction, and because I don’t know who it is, it’s better to stay out of sight.

After a minute, the voices haven’t moved. They’re stationary. And I swear I hear Aidan’s pleasant, accented tone among them.

He must have encountered strangers. They could be dangerous, but he’s always been good at defusing tense situations. I move as quietly as I can through the trees so I can get a view of the road on the other side of the switchback and see what’s happening.

The first person I see is one I recognize.

Not Aidan but a member of that gang that grabbed me up off the road last year. He wasn’t the one who took me to fuck, but he was one of his buddies. I’m not likely to forget his greasy auburn hair or the tattoo of a spiderweb spanning the whole side of his neck.

Weasel. They called him Weasel.

The brief sight of him sickens me. I suck in a breath and dart out of sight, pressing my back against a large tree. It feels like the blood has drained out of my head. Like I might pass out.

I don’t like this kind of weak reaction, so I breathe through it. I can hear the voices better now, but my mind is too clouded to focus on words.

If I stay right here, if I don’t move, they won’t know I’m close.

They won’t be able to capture me again.

I’m not going to have to go back.

In the midst of my slow breathing, I hear Aidan’s voice. It’s his for sure. I’d know it anywhere. It provokes a wash of warm familiarity. Out of all other voices, that one—his—belongs to me.

Then I hear what he’s saying. “We agreed on double that.”

“That was a month ago. Things change.” It’s Weasel talking, and he’s clearly negotiating some sort of transaction with Aidan.

With Aidan.

“Perhaps. But if they’ve changed for you that much, then you must not need the drugs.”

My throat is tightening. My hands growing cold and damp.

“You’re not backing out on us now, are you? After all this time?”

It takes all the strength I have not to gasp. Not to peer out from behind the tree to see for myself what’s happening.

But it’s obvious. No one could possibly mistake it.

Aidan isn’t making a quick message run as a favor to people who helped us out. He’s doing a job of his own. He’s trading. He’s doing what he’s always done. And from the sound of it, he’s doing it effectively. He’s always been a skillful negotiator.

But he’s doing it with the worst people in the world.

The people who kidnapped me. Forced me to fuck. Would have eventually killed me.

I’m so upset I have trouble focusing on the words, but the conversation continues. Weasel keeps trying for a lower price, and Aidan refuses in a lazy, conversational drawl.

They finally land on a price—just slightly lower than the one they initially agreed on. I’m not even sure what kind of goods they’re trading for the drugs because they’re only talking in amounts.

They must make the trade because things sound like they’re wrapping up. Then Aidan says, “This might have to be our last trade. My supply has run out, and I’ll have to do some searching for another source.”

The other guys aren’t happy, but there’s not much they can do if Aidan’s source has disappeared. So after some more discussion, they agree that Aidan will contact them as soon as he finds more, and the group leaves. Their rough, unpleasant voices fade as they walk away.

I don’t know what Aidan is doing. I haven’t yet heard his cart rolling. The wheels always make a distinct sound as they turn.

I want to know what he’s doing—I’m dying to know—but don’t dare to move. I can’t. I’m paralyzed by fear and something worse. Something that’s churning in my gut, making me nauseated.

The most appalling recognition.

I stay hiding motionless behind the tree for a couple more minutes.

Then Aidan’s voice sounds, soft and strangely hoarse, “You might as well come out, love.”

I gasp. I can’t help it.

“Breanna, love, they’re gone now. You can come out.”

I have absolutely no idea how he knows I’m here. How long he’s known. Or what gave me away.

With effort, I manage a few steps around the tree. Then a few more to clear the woods and stumble out onto the roadway.

He’s standing next to his cart, his face stoic but his eyes searching me frantically.

He looks guilty. The knowledge slams into me. I sway, suddenly dizzy. I’m honestly afraid I might vomit.

“Are you going to be sick, sweetheart?” He comes over like he’s going to help, hold me, touch me.

I can’t let him. I jerk back, almost falling from the abrupt move. “Don’t!”

He drops his hands immediately. Stops moving. “Can I please explain?”

I manage to give him a jerky nod. I’m not sure any explanation will change things, but I can’t do anything else right now, so I might as well listen to him.

“You already know I’ve traded with them. I never liked them, but I used to trade with everyone. You know why. I was trying not to care.”

I did know that. And I thought I understood. “I didn’t know you still were. I thought you stopped like a year ago.”

“I was slowing down, but it’s hard to stop when you’ve gotten sucked into business with people like that. I was trying to extricate myself, but it was a slow process. I was trying. If I pulled out too quickly, they would have simply killed me.”

Rationally, that makes sense, but nothing rational is sinking into my brain right now. “But they said last month—just last month—you made a deal for drugs.”

“Tylenol. Benadryl. Cough syrup.”

“Last month.”

“We weren’t together last month, love.”

“I know we weren’t. But I thought… I thought…” I strangle on the sentence before I can finish it.

Because I’m a fool for thinking what I thought. That even before we got together, what happened to me at the hands of these men might have mattered to him.

“I was trying to get out.” His voice wavers just slightly—the smallest evidence that he’s not in control of his emotions. That he’s almost as upset as I am.

I turn away from him since his steady gaze is deeply disturbing. I suck in a few harsh breaths, attempting to make my mind work, my voice work.

He waits for me to pull myself together. His patience is as unnerving as anything else.

When I’m ready, I turn back around and say, “Weasel—that main guy—is one of the guys who took me.”

He flinches slightly. “I didn’t know that.”

“You knew they were part of the same group.”

“Yes. I did know that.”

“Even if I can accept that you got in too deep with them and were working on safely extricating yourself… even if I can accept that, you lied to me this morning. You lied. We were supposed to be partners. We were supposed to trust each other. And you lied to me. Hid the truth from me.”

“I know I did. I’m sorry, love. I didn’t want you to know.” He clears his throat like he’s briefly choked up. “I didn’t want you to see this side of me. This would have been my last interaction with them. I was finally able to end it. So I thought… I wanted to take care of it without it affecting you.”

“Without it affecting me?”

He takes a step forward. Then another. His face twists, emotion finally catching up to him. “I’m so sorry it’s hurt you. That’s the last thing I would have ever wanted to do. I thought I could simply put the whole ugly mess to bed and start fresh with you. I didn’t want you to look at me differently. I didn’t want you to hate me.”

My body is wracked by silent sobs. They shudder through me. I have to squeeze my eyes shut to hold them back.

“Oh no, sweetheart. Please don’t.”

My eyes fly open because I know—I know—he’s about to touch me again. “Don’t! Don’t touch me. Don’t call me sweetheart. Or love. Or anything that makes it sound like I’m special.”

“You are special to me, Breanna. You’re—”

“No!” A ragged sob escapes, but there are still no tears. Everything inside me feels dry. Barren. Empty. “Oh my God, Del was exactly right. I argued with her. Swore she was wrong. But she wasn’t. She said no matter how you feel about me, your priority will always be your own self-preservation.”

He jerks back like he’s been slapped. His face has whitened.

“And she was right,” I rasp. “I get it. I do. You wanted to try something new. You wanted to be a different person. I wanted the same thing. I wanted to… to trust you. I wanted to take a risk with my heart. Be vulnerable. But this is the limit for me. I… I can’t do it anymore. It hurts too bad.”

“I know it hurts. I’m so sorry. But it doesn’t have to be over.” He’s urgent now. Something akin to fear shudders through his tense body. “Please don’t say it’s over.”

“It… it barely even started, Aidan. There’s no hope it could possibly survive this. Not for me anyway.” I take a couple of long breaths. Square my shoulders. Step over to his cart and find my big backpack. Pull the straps over my shoulder.

I’ll be carrying it on my own from now on.

“Breanna, love, please don’t—”

“I can’t! I just can’t. I thought I had changed, but I haven’t. I’m just me. And I’m not going to let myself get used by a man again—not even one I… I want.”

He makes a choking sound, but I don’t know what’s happening on his face because I’ve turned away from him.

I’ve started walking away.

“Breanna.”

I stop but don’t turn around.

“I love you.”

It might as well be a knife’s slice to my heart. “Maybe. Maybe you do. But it will never be as much as you want to save yourself.”

And that’s the final word. For both of us. I walk and keep walking.

All the way back home.

10

IT’S LATE when I reach Monument.

Almost dark.

There’s a new guy managing the gate, and he doesn’t recognize me. Maybe he’s really never seen me before, or maybe I don’t look like myself. For whatever reason, he starts giving me an interrogation like I’m a stranger or an intruder.

I’m not in a fit emotional state to handle it right now, so I’m relieved when a familiar gruff voice says, “That’s Del’s sister. Let her in.”

It’s Cole. He’s waiting for me after I pass in through the gateway. He’s wearing the jeans and shirt I got for him in Sharpsburg and frowning at me thoughtfully.

“You okay?” he mutters. He must be heading back to the cottage because he falls into step with me.

“I’m fine.”

It’s not true, but it’s close enough. I’m not in danger of falling apart. After the traumatic morning and the long day’s hike, I mostly feel numb.

“What happened?” He knows something isn’t right. After all, I’m supposed to be traveling with Aidan for at least a few more days. Now I’m back after a day and a half, and Aidan is not.

“I… I was wrong about him.” I kind of bite out the words.

“Shit.”

Cole has never been a particularly verbal or effusive man. With everyone but Del, he rarely speaks more than single sentences at a time. But the brief expletive is surprised. Sympathetic.

It means something to me. Ridiculously, it makes me want to cry.

I don’t. I’m not a crier, and I haven’t been one for a very long time. Aidan isn’t going to change that. He isn’t going to change me.

“It’s fine,” I manage to say. “Probably better this way. I was doing good alone.”

I thought I was. I reveled in the freedom. But now a string of day after day by myself, when for a while my life could have been different, rings hollow. Painfully empty.

“Yeah.” Cole pauses as we turn onto the side street where our cottage is located. “Del will be happy you’re here.”

My eyes burn. Blur. I nod as my only response.

Maybe Del was waiting for Cole, watching from inside, because she steps out onto the front porch as we approach.

She doesn’t ask any questions or express any surprise. She must understand the broad strokes of what happened merely from my presence here and the expression on my face.

She comes down the two steps as Cole and I turn up the walk.

Then she pulls me into a hug.

I do end up crying. More than once over the next few weeks. But I only do so when I’m all by myself in bed at night. Otherwise, I go through a regular daily routine and attempt to act normal.

Maybe if I act like I’m fine, I’ll end up being fine. Eventually.

I’m not up for much traveling right away since it reminds me too much of Aidan, so I stick to guard shifts and half-day message runs. I hang out with Del and help Cole with a manually pumped plumbing system he’s designing for our cottage, and I ask around for news about Maria.

I try to feel like myself again.

It’s almost three weeks later when a couple of the women in Maria’s group stop by town to let us know that, five days from now, everyone who wants to participate in the attack should meet up at a designated spot less than a day’s hike away from the old hotel where the gangs are holed up in. From there, we’ll organize and launch the assault.

They give us a map, and we estimate that a fairly relaxed pace will take us about four days to get there, and that’s without any unexpected delays. So we plan to leave the following morning and begin preparations immediately.

Del is coming with us on the trip, although she’s still not planning to be part of the attack. She doesn’t say so, but I’m pretty sure she wants to make sure there’s a reasonable chance of coming out of it alive before she’s okay with Cole and I putting ourselves at risk.

I don’t blame her for her concern or her caution. Cole and I are her entire family. If she loses us, she loses everything. I want to take down the monsters in that stronghold but only if we can actually accomplish it.

There’s no sense in sacrificing all of our lives for a lost cause.

I’ve been impressed with Maria so far, so I don’t have any reason to doubt the plans she’s made. I only hope she’s been able to rally a sizable force since the communities in this region have only ever focused on defense.

There are three additional men from Monument participating, and we all start out the following morning. The weather is cool but sunny. Perfectly comfortable for an extended hike. I try to feel invigorated. To anticipate a worthwhile mission, taking action against the forces that have hurt me.

But mostly I’m lonely despite the five others who travel with me.

I wonder what Aidan is doing. He was supposed to be with us. To help us take the criminals down.

I go where she goes. That’s what he said.

But he was working with the bad guys. He might as well have been one of them. On any given day, at any given moment, he might have been right there in that hotel, doing business when we attacked.

It’s a bleak, depressing thought, so I don’t dwell on it. Don’t picture his handsome face and wry expression. His hair burnished dark gold in the sunlight. Or hear his warm, lilting voice in the distance.

He’s gone. I’ve made my decision. We both understood it was final. I could see the knowledge on his face before I left. There’s a good chance he went back to his old life, his old ways, and put aside his brief attempt to be a different, better man.

Just like I’m back to who I used to be—with a hard shell of protection forged forever around my heart.

We reach the designated meeting spot late in the morning on the fourth day. It’s an old mall. A small one with three anchor stores and two short wings that housed the smaller shops. One side of it has collapsed, and all of it is in disrepair, its contents long ago emptied out by looters and scavengers.

But one of the anchor stores is still structurally intact, and I’m shocked by the number of people milling around inside when our group enters.

Several dozen so far. At least. Yes, quite a few of them are from Maria’s own crew, but still… I can’t believe she’s managed to gather so many volunteers from this area.

The first few hours are rather chaotic. We find Maria and check in, letting her know our numbers and then getting instructions on what to do. Basically make ourselves comfortable and wait for tomorrow when everyone will have arrived and we can be assigned our designated roles.

We find an unpopulated corner and lay out our stuff. Del is tired since she is no longer accustomed to walking four days straight. After we get something to eat, Cole sits down, leaning against a wall, and Del stretches out with her head in his lap.

I leave them alone. They deserve privacy, and I don’t feel like sitting still.

Instead, I wander, saying hello to people I recognize and introducing myself to people I don’t. After a couple of hours of mingling, I’m tired of small talk and want to sit down. But Del is still resting with Cole stroking her hair. It feels like I’d be intruding on their intimacy, and it makes me uncomfortable. So I search for somewhere else to sit for the time being.

Because I’m looking in another direction, I’m not watching where I’m going, and I almost plow into a small woman I don’t know.

“I’m so sorry,” I say quickly, smiling apologetically and hoping she won’t be annoyed by my absentmindedness. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Me either,” she says with a small smile of her own. Her expression is reserved but not unfriendly. She’s young and startlingly pretty with long dark hair and vivid green eyes. Almost as green as Aidan’s. “It was my fault as much as yours.”

“I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Breanna. I’m from Monument, which is a town three days north of here.”

“Rachel. We’re from Kentucky. Maria called us in. We’ve worked with her a lot.”

“Oh. Wow. Thanks for coming all this way to help out.” I glance around, but it looks like she’s by herself. “Who are we?”

She gestures over toward the left to a group of about twelve men and women of varying ages. They’re chatting and not paying attention to us except for one big, rough-looking man. He’s got dark hair and a full beard and an intimidating manner. He’s watching Rachel steadily. “That’s Cal,” she says, when she notices I’ve focused on him. “He’s my man.”

He’s a lot older than her. A lot. And Rachel has a fresh, innocent appearance that makes me worry for her.

Many young women end up in bad situations because they have no other choice. I know that fact better than most.

Rachel must be able to recognize that my bristles have been raised because she adds, “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. He’s a good man. He’s never taken advantage of me.”

There’s no tremor in her voice. No doubt. She’s clear-eyed and confident. She’s obviously healthy and well taken care of. She’s even got an engagement ring and a wedding band on her left hand. I can’t question the faith of every other woman just because my own faith in men has been battered so completely.

“Okay, good,” I tell her, smiling again. “Sorry for the assumptions. I’ve seen a lot.”

“Me too. That’s why I’ve started to just come out and say it. I appreciate that you’re concerned for a stranger you just met, but I promise I’m good.”

“I’m glad. And I’m glad to meet you. How long have y’all been here?”

“We got here this morning. Maria sent a couple of her folks back our way to get some help two or three weeks ago. We gathered some volunteers and left yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” My eyes are very wide.

“We have a truck. We drove.”

“Oh wow. No one around here has had gas to get a vehicle moving in a couple of years.”

“We’re getting pretty low too, so we only use it for emergencies.” She glances back toward Cal, who is still watching her like a hawk, like he’s ready to pounce on anyone who dares threaten her. “Come on over. I’ll introduce you to the others.”

I’m happy for the distraction and cheerfully comply. She brings me over to her group and introduces me to everyone. There are too many for me to remember everyone’s name, but there’s a big black guy named Mack and a skinny freckled white guy named Ham and a short-haired woman named Gail. The others seem nice, but their names simply don’t stick.

We chat for almost an hour. Then Maria comes over and sits down with us. At first I think she has something to tell us, but soon I realize she’s tired. She’s probably been on all day doing crowd control and planning. One can hardly blame her for needing a break.

This is evidently a group she feels at home with.

Mack is warm and friendly, and he’s dressed like a soldier. I like him immediately and listen as he chats with Maria about other people they know.

Someone named Travis couldn’t come because he and his wife just had a second baby. Someone named Faith is pregnant, which is clearly a surprise to Maria. Evidently she’s been trying for a while and didn’t think it was going to happen, but now it has, so her man won’t leave her to come help with this effort.

Maria doesn’t appear annoyed or disappointed, but she also doesn’t look thrilled by any of this news. She’s an interesting person. Always focused on the mission. She clearly knows I’ve been listening because she turns to me and says, “A lot of the fighters I’ve been able to count on keep having babies. I try not to consider it an inconvenience.”

A little laugh surprises me, but since Mack chuckles too, I assume it’s an appropriate response. “Y’all must have better food and medical care there. Healthy babies are few and far between around here.”

“We’re doing better,” Mack says. “There are a lot more than there used to be. But it’s still a big risk. Don’t blame anyone for playing it safe if there’s a baby born or on the way.”

“It’s a balancing act,” Maria adds. “Weighing the needs of individual families against the needs of the larger community. Neither one can be ignored. So I hope everyone doesn’t decide to go domestic.” She gives Mack a significant look.

He laughs again, so I’m comfortable laughing too.

That balancing act isn’t likely to ever matter to me. I’ll never have a baby.

I most likely will never even have a man.

By the middle of the following day, even more people have gathered in the old department store. There are far too many people for an organized meeting, so Maria and some of the others go around assessing numbers and skills and weapons. Once all the resources are accounted for, they’ll put together their plan and assign everyone to different duties.

I don’t mind not being at the center of the planning. I’ve never done anything like this before.

I just want to help in some way. Do something that matters.

Shape something good out of the bad.

I’ve been hanging out with Rachel, Cal, Mack and the others, and a little while ago Del and Cole came over to sit with me. I introduce them.

We’ve got a long day ahead of us, so we might as well get comfortable.

Maria returns to us after a while. Not to chat but to discuss a few things with Mack and Cal, who are evidently her preferred tacticians for missions such as this. From what I can hear, they have a good, if complicated, plan, but they’re stalled on one piece.

“We gotta get someone inside,” Cal says. “No way around it. If we don’t get that door unlocked, we can’t do it.”

“That’s awfully dangerous,” Mack says. “Basically a suicide run for whoever volunteers.”

“Not necessarily. If we had a good enough cover for the person, they might be able to do it.” Maria’s frowning. Obviously thinking.

It clicks then what they’re talking about. What exactly they need. “I can do it,” I say, moving closer to where they’re talking. “I can get in.”

“What? No!” Del must have been listening too. She looks absolutely outraged. “Don’t you dare let her do that. You don’t know what these people did to her. You can’t let her go back to them.”

“I do know,” Maria says, sounding thoughtful and matter-of-fact. “She told me. And she does have a point. Maybe she has a way inside. Then she could let us in.”

“Breanna.” Del is almost choking. She grabs for my arm. “You can’t. You can’t.”

“I’m not looking to die,” I tell her, understanding her frantic fear but trying not to let it infect me. “I won’t do it unless we can figure out a plausible excuse for me being there and a way to get me out of there alive.”

“Yeah, that’s the rub,” Mack says. “Even if she’s been there before, she can’t knock on their door and say, Here I am, give me access to your fortress.”

“And she was captured. She was never there voluntarily. She escaped. They’ll never believe she’s back because she wants to be. She’ll either be killed or taken captive as soon as they see her. You can’t let her do it.” Del sounds almost angry. Cole has a hand on her back, and I notice that he’s gripping the fabric of her shirt, as if he’s holding her back from launching herself at someone in her indignation.

I sigh. “She does have a point. It will never work unless someone takes me in there as his captive.” I glance over at Cole. He’s big and tough and could easily pass for a criminal. “Maybe you could take me in. Pretend you’re one of them. That would get you in and give you the chance to find your brother.”

Del makes a whimpering sound, but she doesn’t vocalize her objection to this plan. It’s got to be her worst nightmare. Both of us disappearing into that place with no guarantee of coming out again.

Cole doesn’t immediately object. Just mutters, “Not sure they’ll go for it. They don’t know me.”

“They don’t know any of us,” Maria says, sounding faintly frustrated. “But we need to get someone inside one way or the other, or this will never work. So unless someone else has an in that we haven’t considered—”

“I’ll do it.”

I freeze. Barely manage to swallow over the rush of tension in my throat.

I know that voice. That accent. Would never mistake it.

Aidan strides forward from wherever he was lurking in the background. He wasn’t here before. I never saw him, and I swear I would have been able to sense his presence. He must have recently arrived.

He’s dead sober as he comes to stand on the other side of me from Del. He doesn’t glance at me. He’s focused on Maria. “I’ll do it,” he says again. “I have an in. I’ve traded with them. They’ll let me inside.”

“It’s still too dangerous, Aidan,” Del says in a hoarse whisper. “They might let you in, but you’ll end up getting killed.”

He shrugs. “You need in, and I can get you in. Someone’s got to do it. It might as well be me.”

There’s more conversation and argument. Then even more discussion as the details of a plan are worked out.

But it’s basically decided as soon as Aidan volunteered. We have no one else who can get us inside the high wall and locked doors of that citadel. It has to be him.

As it turns out, I’ll be going with him. Two people inside are safer than one. We can better manage the ruse and deal with the obstacles in order to unlock the entrance they’ve identified and let the others inside.

In a different situation, I might have refused to work with Aidan. Merely the idea of being around him is incredibly unsettling to me. It threatens the tentative hold I have on my emotions.

But this is too important. I’m not going to allow my personal issues to interfere with the work we’re doing here.

If the only way to take those monsters down is to stay in close quarters with Aidan for a few hours, then that’s what I’ll do.

He’d clearly rather get inside alone, but he doesn’t argue when the others decide that it will work better with me going with him. He can pretend he captured me. That he’s using me as a peace offering after pulling back from their partnership before. He’s absolutely convinced they’ll buy it.

They trust him as much as anyone else.

This fact clearly doesn’t recommend him to the others. They’re wary. Suspicious of him and his association with the violent men they’re here to put down. But Maria evidently made up her mind about Aidan weeks ago, and she hasn’t changed it. She wants to use him. She believes he’ll come through.

I do too.

I’m genuinely shocked that he showed up—that he didn’t give up on his attempts to be a better man when he lost me—but now that he’s here, I know he’ll do what he said he’d do.

If anyone can get us behind those walls, it’s him.

As the rest of the day passes and night falls, Aidan makes no attempt to speak to me alone. In a way, it’s a relief, but in another way, it bothers me. He must have no real desire to make things up to me if he’s not even trying to talk.

He told me he loves me. I’m not sure I believe him, but I’m pretty sure he believed it. Would a man in love really be so silent and withdrawn? Not sad but resigned. Like he’s content to walk straight to his doom.

It doesn’t feel right to me. It bothers me.

I try to go to sleep early with the others because we have a predawn start the next day, but I can’t sleep. I toss and turn, conscious of the presence of Del and Cole nearby. I don’t know where Aidan is sleeping tonight, but it isn’t near me.

Finally I can’t take it anymore. I sit up. Then stand up.

“Y’okay?” Del mumbles, blinking up at me from where she’s lying at Cole’s side.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” I think quickly of an excuse for my precipitous rise. “Just got to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

Cole reaches over without speaking and pulls my pistol out of the holster I took off before I lay down. He hands it to me with a silent imperative.

I accept the gun with a nod. If I’m going outside on my own at night, I sure as hell better have my weapon. “I’ll be careful. I’ll be back.”

The floor of the old store is crowded with people. Most are already sleeping, but some are sitting around and talking softly. I recognize the tension in the air.

The last gasp before the plunge.

I duck outside by a side door, sucking in big inhales of cold night air.

At least it’s not raining. The air is bone dry.

The old parking lot of the mall is overgrown with weeds and shrubs, most of them brown and dead. There are several abandoned vehicles scattered around. A couple of toppled streetlight poles. Farther past the parking lot the woods have grown up, creeping around the edges of the cracked pavement.

The moon is full tonight. The sky is clear, and the stars are bright. The lingering remnants of the world that used to be take on an eerie significance in the pale light.

I used to go shopping at malls like this. Not all that long ago.

Ages ago.

I don’t actually need to go to the bathroom. I haven’t eaten or drunk very much all day. So I stand by myself and breathe. Wonder how the hell I even got here.

“You okay, love?”

I release the breath I’ve just taken as I feel Aidan approach from behind me. “I’m fine.”

“You always say that, whether it’s true or not.”

I think about it. Decide he’s right. “How do you expect me to answer?”

“I expect you’ll lie to me. I know you’re not going to open up to me again.”

He’s moved to stand beside me. He’s looking out at the landscape the same way I was before.

I don’t know how to reply, so I don’t say anything.

When I’m silent, he goes on, “I had my chance with you. I blew it. I’m not expecting any sort of second chance.”

“Would you even want one?” I frown up at him, trying to understand what’s going on behind his composure.

His jaw tightens. “Of course I would. I’d give anything for one. But I know how hard it was for you to trust me, and I broke that trust.” He gives me a faint reflection of his old sardonic smile. “You know me. No lost causes. No running into brick walls.”

“If you don’t believe in lost causes, then why volunteer to do this?”

“Because it needs to be done.”

“Not by you. No one was expecting you to jump in. Del isn’t wrong about how risky it is. You’re not the sacrificial type.”

“No,” he agrees. “I’ve never believed in sacrifice. But I do believe in balancing the scales.”

My heart is hammering. I’m washed with a cold dread. I reach up to put a hand on his chest, desperately needing to touch him, feel that he’s alive. “Balancing the scales?”

“Yes.” He very gently removes my hand from his chest. Holds it in his for a few seconds before he lets it go. “I was wrong. I did wrong. A lot of it. Too much. And even when I thought I could do better, I did that wrong to you. I can’t…”

His voice doesn’t exactly break, but it cracks just slightly.

“You can’t what, Aidan?” I’m scared for no reason I understand.

“I can’t let that wrong be my final word. I can’t let it be my answer. So I’m going to do this. I’m going to do something good to answer everything else I’ve done.”

“Aidan,” I whisper.

He looks so tired. Exhausted. Battered. “You don’t have to worry, Breanna. I know what it’s going to take for you to do this. To go inside there after what they did to you. But I promise you’ll be safe in there with me. I won’t let any of them touch you.”

I’m moved by the declaration despite myself. “I appreciate that, but it’s not really what I was worried about just now. You seem… I don’t know… You seem…”

“I’m me. I’m still me. And I know I’ll never be the good guy.” He leans down and kisses me very softly. Brief and light and so incredibly soft. Then he pulls away before I can react. “But I’ll be damned if I let myself be this.”

11

AT MIDMORNING THE FOLLOWING DAY, Aidan and I are ushered in through the gates of the old hotel.

It’s easier than I dared to hope.

We leave the mall early in the morning and travel on our own, Aidan pushing his cart and me trailing behind with my hands bound. It’s not the most convenient or comfortable way to travel, but we need to solidify our cover in case anyone witnesses our approach.

When we draw near to the hotel, we run into a few small groups coming and going. They don’t flag us as suspicious, so they neither stop nor question us.

We make it to the gate. One of the men on guard recognizes Aidan and lets him in with a couple of casual inquiries about what he’s doing here and who I am.

Then we’re inside the wall.

The hotel is made up of one large main building—four stories and designed like a mountain lodge—and a collection of surrounding cottages that clearly used to be rented out as private suites when the hotel was in use. The cottages are mostly falling apart now and appear to be used primarily for storage. The main building, however, was well built and remains in good condition.

There are quite a few people milling around in the courtyard, small groups hanging out smoking and a couple of bedraggled women picking up trash.

All morning, I’ve been operating mostly on adrenaline, wired, oddly detached, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other rather than imagining what we’ll face at the hotel. But as soon as I take one step inside the wall, reality tightens into a nauseating ball in my gut. It sits there, weighing me down, distracting me from what I need to do.

I might have been one of those women—used and abused into brittle shells. I came so close.

It’s funny how you think that you’re over things. That you’re past them. That you’ve funneled them neatly into a dark compartment of your mind where they can no longer cause trouble.

All this time, I’ve believed I conquered the trauma. That it can no longer control me.

But now I’m sick—physically ill—as it overwhelms me again.

Aidan knows. He must know because he pulls me closer. In a pose of keeping full control over my body, he manages to put a supportive hand on my back.

It helps but not enough.

I’m trembling. Sweating. Breathing deeply as I will myself not to throw up.

My only solace is that my physical reaction will help solidify my cover as a captive. Even if I end up puking on Aidan’s boots, it won’t affect our plan.

We walk straight through the courtyard and approach the four additional guards at the front door of the main building.

At least one of them knows Aidan too. He barks out, “What the hell, man? You said that was it for you.”

“I found a new stash. Is Weasel around?”

“He’s supposed to be back this afternoon. You’ll have to wait.”

“What about Nyack?”

“He got himself shot.”

“Dead?”

“Yep.”

Aidan shrugs. “Then I’ll wait for Weasel. Can I get a room?”

“You got some fucking balls. What’s to stop us from killing you and taking all you got?”

“You know the answer to that. I don’t have the bulk of it on me. If you want to explain to Weasel why you gave up prescription drugs because you got pissy, go right ahead and kill me.”

The man snarls. “Fine. You can have a room until Weasel turns up. Who’s the bitch?” He eyes me up and down like he’s assessing livestock.

“She’s the source of my new stash. Not my type, but I thought you lot might get some use out of her.”

“So she’s a bribe?”

Aidan gives the other man a nonchalant smile. “Precisely.”

They all laugh at that, and the lead guard says, “I like ’em a little thinner, but she’s got good tits.”

He reaches over toward my shirt. I know—I know—he’s going to pull out the neckline to inspect my breasts.

Aidan eases me away from the other man’s reach. “Uh-uh. No touching until I make a deal.” When a couple of the men make sounds of objection, Aidan cuts off their arguments with clipped authority. “She’s mine until we come to a fair arrangement. Hands off.”

This feels like a risk to me. In his place, I would have probably let them paw at me to play it safe. After all, we absolutely must get inside that hotel.

But Aidan knows the situation and these men better than I do, and he rightly predicts their begrudging acquiescence. They let us inside and don’t try to touch me again. The guy who’s been speaking calls for a boy—no older than twelve—and tells him to show us to an empty room.

And it’s as easy as that.

The boy, who’s far too jaded for a child of his age, leads us to a room on the second floor of the hotel. He opens the door and gestures inside. Then sticks out his hand and clears his throat dramatically.

Aidan huffs in impatient amusement, feels his pockets, finds a silver dollar, and places it in the small, dirty hand.

It’s meaningless now as currency since this new world works on the barter system, but it’s shiny and novel and can almost certainly be traded for something else. The boy is thrilled and runs off with his treasure.

I’m oddly touched by the small interaction, and it briefly distracts me from the sickening dread that’s filled me since we got here.

Aidan pulls me inside the room. Closes and locks the door. Unties my hands. Then we both push a heavy dresser over to block the door as an extra precaution while we’re in here.

I sit down on the foot of the bed and hug my arms to my stomach, leaning over as I try to get my nausea under control.

Aidan sits down next to me.

If he asks me if I’m all right, I might actually slap him. That’s how on edge I am.

He doesn’t say anything. Just sits beside me, breathing heavily, until I straighten up. “I’m fine,” I tell him.

He doesn’t believe me, but he also doesn’t argue. He checks the watch he’s had in his pocket—an old-fashioned kind that winds up. “We’ve got almost an hour to wait until the others are in place.”

“Okay.”

“This is convenient for us. If Weasel was on site, I’d have to try to stall him.”

“I know.”

He searches my face, his mouth and eyes softening at whatever he sees. He reaches out like he’s going to touch my cheek but drops his hand before he does. Instead, he pulls out his canteen, twists off the top, and then hands it to me.

I take a couple of gulps of water. Hold the canteen in both hands and breathe until I can take a few more sips.

Aidan drinks after me before he screws on the top. “When it’s time, I’ll tie your hands again but use a knot you can pull out yourself. We should be able to move around inside the building without challenge. We’ll go down to the back door. Make sure it’s unlocked and then head for the back gate on the wall. They should have taken care of the guards there by then, and we’ll let them in.”

We’ll let them in.

As easy as that. As simple.

There’s no way in hell it will go without incident. For one thing, there will be at least one guard on the back door of the hotel. And as soon as we start moving toward the gate, someone is going to see us and get suspicious.

I don’t say any of that, however. It would serve no purpose. Aidan knows it all as well as I do.

He volunteered for this mission knowing there was a good chance he wouldn’t be getting out of it alive.

He claimed last night he wasn’t looking to be a sacrifice, but he sure as hell is hoping for redemption. He can talk about balancing the scales all he wants, but I can see a lot more than that in the guilt that sometimes flickers across his expression.

Redemption never comes easy. Sometimes it takes everything.

I try to put all the pain and fear aside the way I used to. Force it back into a small, dark corner so I can function. So I won’t fall apart.

I can’t.

I gasp and lean forward again, lowering my head between my knees as the tidal wave of dizziness floods me. I almost pass out.

Aidan puts a hand on my back, sliding it up to the nape of my neck. He’s not pushing or pulling or exerting any force at all. He’s holding me gently. After a minute, he starts massaging my neck.

“I can do this,” I whisper when I’ve managed to catch my breath.

“I know you can.”

“I don’t know why I’m falling apart right now.”

“All the shit in life follows us, even when we try to leave it behind. It follows us. And it will always finally catch us. Try to beat us down. It will always try to win.”

I straighten up, but Aidan doesn’t drop his hand. He’s holding on to one of my braids now. “I’m not going to let it win.”

“I know you won’t, love.” His eyes are different. Nakedly tender. “You’ve always been stronger than me.”

A sob lodges hard in my throat but doesn’t break. “You don’t have to let it win either.”

“I’m trying not to. I’ve allowed it to win for far too long, so I let it become too strong. But I’m fighting back now, knowing it won’t be enough.”

I don’t like the sound of that. The resignation. Not like he’s giving up but like he expects only the worst outcome. “Aidan, please. You can make it through this too.”

“I’m going to try. Because, despite how I’ve treated you, I can see that my survival will matter to you. But you can see the numbers as clearly as I can. We’re not all going to make it out of this alive.”

“I know.” The unbroken sob threatens to choke me. I shake silently and squeeze my eyes closed.

“Sweetheart, I know you can’t trust me anymore. But I can’t stand to see you hurting. Will you please let me hold you? Only for a minute.”

I should resist. I shouldn’t let myself rely on him emotionally. But I need something. Someone. And Aidan is the only place I’ve fully found peace in all the years that have passed since my family was whole. So I nod, and I’m still shaking as he pulls me into his arms.

He wraps me in a tight embrace, and I shudder violently in his arms for a long time as the emotion wracks me, tries to tear me apart.

I swear he’s holding me together.

The only place of sanctuary in the storm of my life.

But the world is what it is, and it’s never going to change. And a sanctuary like this won’t hold for more than a single moment.

When it’s time to leave the room, I’ve pulled myself together.

I’m in a kind of detached daze, not able to think or feel deeply about anything, but I’m focused and functional. My hands are tied with a special knot that looks real but that I can pull out when I’m ready. I’ve got my knife in a sheath in my pocket and my pistol tucked into the back of Aidan’s belt so I can grab it when I need to.

We walk downstairs, encountering only a couple of guys heading upstairs who don’t pay any attention to us at all.

The back door is off a hallway that leads to the kitchen and some small storage-type rooms. There are voices coming from the kitchen, but we pass by it quickly. We’ve almost reached the door when a rough voice stops us. “Whatcha doin’ down here?”

Aidan grabs me tighter and turns around with an easy smile. “Stretching my legs. Couldn’t risk leaving her alone.”

“Who the fuck are you?” The man approaching is big and ugly. My heart pounds like a sledgehammer.

“You don’t who I am?” Aidan asks with an impressively cool smugness. I’m honestly not sure how he’s managing to convey such arrogant nonchalance. “You must be new here.”

“Who the fuck are you?” The man has reached us now. He’s pulled out his gun but hasn’t aimed it.

That’s his mistake.

In a motion so fast I barely register distinct moves, Aidan draws a small knife from one of his pockets and throws it at the other man. The blade penetrates the side of his throat, slicing his carotid.

The man looks stunned. Then drops to the floor in a pool of blood in about ten seconds.

“Come on, love,” Aidan says, his tone more urgent now. “We need to move quickly before someone sees his body.”

I follow without a word. Before he unlocks the door, he pulls out his gun and screws on a silencer. Then he does the same with my pistol before he hands it over to me. The silencers were from Aidan’s stock. No one else in our group had them. They’re unheard of anymore.

I’m tense and chilled as he unlocks the door and opens it. He steps out with his gun aimed. Shoots once and then again.

When I get outside, I see the bodies of two guards on the packed dirt of the back courtyard.

There’s no one else in sight. This side of the courtyard doesn’t get much activity.

“Okay. I’ll head to the gate.” He’s eyeing all directions, searching for threats. “You stay here and protect this door. Getting inside the gate will be useless if we can’t get back into the hotel.”

I already know all this, but I don’t resent his giving me instructions again. He’s in full-on battle mode now, ready to get this job done.

“I’ll cover you,” I tell him. “Stay alive.”

He glances back at me for a second before striding fast and silent toward the wall.

It’s probably the riskiest step of this initial stage of our plan. He’s fully exposed and obviously up to no good. Soon he has almost reached the door, and I’m shocked and relieved at how easy it’s been when a motion from my right distracts me.

A man strolls around the building. I’m not sure what he’s doing—maybe simply taking a walk—but he sees Aidan and recognizes him as a threat. He reaches for his gun, and I shoot him.

He falls with a grunt and a thump that sounds dangerously loud.

Aidan whirls around, ready for a fight, but he sees the downed man and then gives me a wave.

Despite the noise, no one else appears. Maybe nobody heard it.

Aidan opens the door.

The first person in from outside is Cole. His big, familiar form briefly fills the doorway before moving aside. More people file in after him and move in different directions. Some are going to take care of the guards and other stragglers in the courtyard and then wait until one of another group lets them in through the front. More will cover the other exits to catch anyone trying to escape or anyone arriving from outside to help. The rest of us will work on clearing out each floor of the main building.

There’s too much to process all at once, so I focus only on my own responsibilities. Aidan returns to me with Cole and the short-haired woman named Gail that I met yesterday.

The four of us are headed to the right side of the fourth floor. Our numbers are smaller than most of the other groups because, according to Aidan, the fourth floor is used to house captives and servants. There won’t be many fighters up there, so we won’t need as many guns.

Aidan also said he’s pretty sure Cole’s brother does shifts up there. That’s why Cole is with us and not where we need our best fighters.

No one has yet found the dead body of the first guy Aidan killed in the back hallway. It’s quiet as we speed walk toward the stairwell on the right side of the building.

Soon, however, we start hearing gunfire from the front. Then a clanging of an alarm. A few guys run out of the kitchen behind us, obviously summoned by the alarm and looking to help. Aidan and I are in the rear of our group, so we turn around and fire on them before they can process our presence in the hallway.

We’ve still got silencers on our guns. Not that it matters anymore.

Cole bursts through the door to the stairwell and starts running, taking two steps at a time. Gail follows closely and then me with Aidan right behind.

I’m breathless when we get to the top—more from dazed tension than from effort. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I’ve killed men. I’ve fought and protected myself. But I’ve never been part of a full-scale attack.

It feels like a battle, and it’s entirely new to me. I wonder if everyone goes through it with the same weird detachment—like everything is blurred except the few feet directly in front of them.

I can barely even remember the emotional minutes I shared with Aidan less than an hour ago.

I can barely remember Del’s face.

There are a few guys running down the stairs from a higher floor, but Cole and Gail take care of them with quick efficiency. When we’ve reached the fourth level, we fall into a square formation with our guns raised. I’m behind Cole and next to Aidan.

At the first doorways on the hall, Cole gestures toward me. I get ready. He kicks the door on our side open, and I enter, covering the left half of the room as he gets the right. Aidan and Gail are doing the same across the hall.

The room is filled with women and girls, lounging on mats and filling every available space on the floor. Some look startled. Some terrified. Some barely awake. One little girl who looks no more than thirteen is crying. There is one man in the room, clearly on duty to make sure the women don’t escape. He doesn’t try to fight back and hasn’t even pulled out his gun. He’s got both hands high in the air.

Cole ties his hands behind his back and leaves him face down on the floor while I guard the door.

“Y’all stay in here until you get the all clear that it’s safe,” I tell one of the older women. “Then you can get out of here.”

A murmur of surprised relief runs through the group, and the woman I spoke to nods and gathers a couple of the younger ones closer to her. Cole and I step back into the hall right as Aidan and Gail are doing the same from the room across from us.

Aidan’s eyes run up and down my body quickly, obviously checking my condition. When we reach the next rooms on the hallway, someone comes out of the one on the left. He’s got a gun in his hand but not aimed. All four of us target him.

“Wait,” Cole mutters abruptly, lowering his assault rifle.

It’s his brother. It’s got to be his brother. He joined the group of Weasel and the others that were taking me here last year, but only on the final night, and it was after I went to sleep so I never actually saw him in more than brief, passing glances during a gunfight. He’s younger than Cole, but he doesn’t look like it. His face is worn. Grizzled. His clothes and face are dirty, and his hair is pulled back in a greasy ponytail.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he bursts out when his eyes land on Cole.

His name is Mark, I suddenly remember.

“What are you fucking doing here?” he demands, still holding his gun but not raising it. “Are you crazy? You’re going to get yourself killed! Get out of here, you fucking moron!” The rough tone is angry. Outraged. But not full of hate or bitterness.

He sounds almost—almost—like a brother.

“Not without you,” Cole tells him. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?”

“Way too fucking long.” Mark turns his head at the sound of gunfire from downstairs and outside. “How many people do you have? What the hell kind of suicide mission is this? What the fuck are you even trying to do?”

Aidan and Gail have exchanged looks while Cole and his brother are talking, and they must come to a silent agreement to clear out the room on their side of the hall. Aidan kicks the door in, and then he and Gail charge in.

“We’re taking this place down,” Cole says. “And I’m getting you out.”

“But you were free and clear, you fucking idiotic do-gooder! You have no idea how these people suck you in. Once you’re in, you’re stuck. I can’t go anywhere. There’s no life for me after this shit. So get your ass out of here before you ruin your life too.” Mark sucks in a ragged breath. “You need to get it into your thick head that I can’t be saved.”

“It’s not happening.” Cole steps closer and takes the gun out of his brother’s hand, clicking on the safety and then tucking it into the back of his jeans. “You’re my brother. You’re coming with me. We can beat the shit out of each other later.”

Mark is momentarily stunned. Then he gives a brief, breathy laugh tinged with bitterness. “Don’t blame me if you get yourself killed.”

He lifts his hands in front of him in a gesture of surrender when Gail and Aidan exit the other room.

“We’re clear in there,” Aidan says. He motions toward the room that Mark came out of earlier. “Help me check in here, love.”

I do what he says, charging in and aiming my gun around until we confirm that there’s no one in there but more victimized women and girls.

There are four more rooms on our wing of this floor. Cole asks me to cover his brother while the other three burst in and clear each room, facing little to no opposition.

Aidan was right. There are no real fighters up here. Just a few of the less-vicious guys used for crowd control.

When we reach the center alcove where the elevators used to be on this floor, we run into the group who cleared the opposite wing. Cal and Rachel with a couple of men from nearby towns I’ve never met.

Cal has a streak of blood on his neck, but he’s clearly not seriously injured. The blood might not even be his. No one else appears hurt at all.

After a brief assessment, we move together toward the stairs on the right we ascended.

It’s pure chance that Gail is the one who opens the stairway door and walks in first. It could have been any of us.

I gasp at the sudden barrage of gunfire.

Gail jerks as the bullets hit her and then falls in an awkward heap, her body keeping the door from closing shut.

A surge of stunned nausea rises into my throat. A desperate shuddering begins deep in my chest. My eyes burn. Blur. I’ve seen people get killed right in front of me before, and I barely even knew Gail.

But I liked her. She was quiet and clever and efficient, and she traveled from miles away to help people she didn’t even know.

Even a couple of months ago, it never occurred to me that people could be that good anymore.

Cal and Rachel move together to retrieve Gail’s body from the doorway, Cal shooting blindly around the corner to provide cover for them.

Gail is dead. There’s blood streaked all over the floor from where she was dragged.

“Fuck it all to hell,” Cal growls, his hand on the back of Rachel’s head as she kneels to gently close Gail’s eyes. “They’re holding the stairs so we can’t get out.”

It’s actually a smart move on their part. There must be at least a few among them that have brains.

“Then we try the stairs on the other side,” Aidan says quickly, motioning the group down the hall in the opposite direction.

This time Aidan pushes the door open while staying carefully out of range and tosses his jacket onto the landing.

The barrage of gunfire that follows is even louder and longer than the one that killed Gail.

“There are more here than the other stairs,” Aidan says, meeting Cole’s eyes. “We’ll be better off on the other side.”

I have no idea how we can possibly do it, even on the first stairway. They have every advantage, holed up on the landing between the flights of steps. Even if we rush them all together, there’s no guarantee even a couple of us will get down those stairs alive.

But we’re four stories up, and the fight is still going on. There’s gunfire from all over, and we can’t let ourselves be trapped up here for long. Eventually they’ll come after us, and there are far too many innocents up here in these rooms that could be hurt in the cross fire.

We’ll have to try something.

There’s some low-voiced, urgent discussion when we reach the other side of the hall about how to get through. My mind is a blank, so I’m no help at all. I stand near Aidan, instinctively gripping the back of his shirt.

I have to hold on to something or I might fall over.

They’ve come up with a plan. When I start focusing again, I realize that Cole is the one who’s going first.

I suck in a gasp of automatic objection. I can’t—can’t—let Cole get killed. Del will be utterly crushed.

Before I have a chance to say anything at all, Mark bursts out, “No fucking way. You’re not fucking doing that. You’ll get killed!”

“If I don’t, all of us will get killed.” Cole is sweating. His eyes are fierce and focused—silver like a wolf’s. Del loves him so much.

“No way I’m going along with that,” Mark bites out. “Look, I’m one of them. I can get down there without getting shot. I can take out the first wave.”

“Why should we trust you?” one of the locals I don’t know asks. “You said it. You’re one of them.”

“You don’t have to trust me. But you seriously think I can make this shit show worse? I’m going. I can get far enough down to take out the first ones. Then y’all can get the rest.”

“They’ll kill you!” Cole says in a harsh whisper.

For a moment, Mark looks more tired than anyone I’ve ever met. “Yeah, they will. But otherwise they’ll kill you. And you’re still my big brother. I’m not living with that. I just fucking… won’t. I’m the one who lay down with monsters. You’re the one who… who saved me from them.” He reaches out and grabs Cole’s forearm in a hard grip. “The good one gets to survive. You get to survive. I’m not living in this fucking world if that can’t be true.”

“Mark.” Cole grips Mark’s forearm in return, and they share a look that slices into my heart.

Then Mark yanks his hand away from his brother’s and calls out through the closed door. “Hey. It’s me! Mark. I’m coming down. We took care of them up on this floor. Don’t you dare fucking kill me!”

Then he’s pushing the door open. Slanting one last look at Cole, whose face is twisting with barely reined in emotion.

I step over and squeeze Cole’s arm as we hear Mark still talking loudly as he descends the first flight of stairs.

At the sound of gunfire, Cole rushes through after him. Then the rest of us follow.

When we reach the landing, all six bad guys are dead.

And so is Mark. Half his head is blown off.

Bile burns the back of my throat. I quickly look away. Reach out to grab for the hard muscles of Cole’s upper arm.

He’s standing above his brother’s body, staring down at him. Motionless. Scarily tense.

“We gotta move,” Cal says from behind us in the gruff, matter-of-fact tone that characterizes the man. “Sorry, man. We’ll come back for his body, but right now we gotta move.”

Cole shakes off his frozen reaction. Turns his head to meet my gaze for a few seconds.

We share something in that look, and it surprises me. Not that I’ll ever again doubt Cole’s unwavering devotion to my sister or the core of him that will always be good. But I wouldn’t have thought he’d reach out to me in need even wordlessly. Or take solace in my presence.

But that’s what he’s doing. I squeeze his arm again. “Let’s go. We’ll come back later, and you can take his body home.”

Cole nods briefly and lifts his rifle back into position. “I’m ready.”

Before we reach the bottom of the stairs, the teams clearing the second and third floors have joined us, so we’re a much larger group than we were. As we’re turning down the final flight to the ground floor, someone starts shooting up at us again from the bottom landing.

The first couple of people duck back behind the stairs, barely missing getting shot.

Mack has joined us now, and he’s evidently the natural leader. He waves us all back up to the hallway door to the second floor. He and Aidan flank the door out of the stairwell, shooting a couple of bad guys passing by before they let the rest of us out.

I’m trying not to get ahead of myself, but this attack is going surprisingly well so far. We’ve cleared all the floors of the hotel except the first. The outside guards were all killed or incapacitated simultaneously before Aidan even opened the back door of the wall. There weren’t that many people in the courtyard when we arrived, so Maria and her women will have handled that easily and are probably already inside taking on the biggest hostile force on the first floor.

We took them by surprise and so had the advantage. We might actually be able to do this.

I’m not sure why I think this. I know better than to jinx myself with that kind of optimistic thinking. Reality will always catch up.

We round a corner, heading toward the center of the building, and I realize the front section of this floor breaks into a mezzanine with a railing looking down on the entrance lobby and across to a wall of tall windows. A grand staircase leads down in the middle.

In its day, the hotel must have been beautiful and impressive, showcasing the scenic mountain view. As it is, the abrupt shift into the wide, airy space after the enclosures of the halls and stairs is startling and disorienting.

There’s a lot of fighting in the lobby beneath us. I recognize Maria ducking and shooting with a few others behind the large built-in reception desk, and there are some others scattered around, backed into nooks and corners, fighting with guns and knives and fists all over the first floor. Far outnumbered by the hostiles.

They’re about to lose this ground, and we can’t afford to let it happen.

Half of us start shooting from the upper railing while the rest charge down to assist our outnumbered allies. I stay next to Cole on the mezzanine. Aiming and firing as accurately as I can despite the intense fear pulsing in my ears and my eyeballs and the perspiration that’s causing my gun to slip in my hand.

I’ve already had to reload twice. I’m going to run out of ammunition soon.

Aidan has moved into the most vulnerable position, covering the others near a large pillar as they head one by one down the stairs. I hate to see him so exposed, but he’s oblivious to the danger. He’s shooting with two different guns now and is an equally good shot with both hands.

It’s way too loud. Too chaotic. The air smells like blood and sweat, and it makes me sick. I can still see Gail’s body as the door closed awkwardly on it. I can still see the shattered bone and the brain matter from the gaping wound in Mark’s skull.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

There’s no way in hell I should be here at all.

I’m not a soldier or a warrior or marksman. I’m a girl who never had the chance to finish high school. Who loved to run long-distance at track meets and who liked shopping and movies with her friends.

Gradually most of the others have gotten downstairs so that our forces are more evenly matched. We’re not enough to overpower the bad guys though. Not unless we get really lucky.

Even I can see that.

Cole and I are still at the rail of the mezzanine, shooting down from our vantage point. Because of the danger we’ve posed, most of the fighting has moved beneath us so we can no longer target the enemy.

We’re about to head downstairs too when a bullet fires from behind us. Cole jerks slightly and whirls around. Blood stains the fabric of his right shirtsleeve as he aims in the direction of the side hallway we came from.

It happens so fast it’s a blur. Cole moves in front of me, blocking me with his body. Then he kicks over a decorative side table with a granite top and pushes me down to crouch with him on the floor, using the tabletop as a shield.

A bunch of guys must have come up the side stairwell and gotten to us from behind. We’re completely exposed to them now, protected only by the tabletop.

And Cole is shot.

“Get out of here,” he bites out, holding his rifle above the edge of the table and firing blindly. “Down the stairs. I’ll cover you.”

“I’m not leaving you here alone like a sitting duck!” I’m practically screaming at him. Not in anger but to be heard. And also in frantic fear.

“You have to!” There’s an intensified rain of bullets coming toward us, and we both duck down even farther. The granite slab on the table is thick, but it’s getting chipped away pretty quickly. It’s not going to last much longer. “Breanna, go! If you stay, Del will lose both of us. And there’s no way in hell we can do that to her!”

I strangle on a sob. Know he’s right. That losing both me and Cole at the same time will destroy Del and that we both love her too much to let it happen. “Then you go! She needs you. I’ll stay and cover you.”

“You can’t! I can hold them off. You can’t. Go! Tell her—” He starts to say something else but chokes on it. “She already knows. Just take care of her. For me.”

I’m sobbing now, almost blinded by tears. I really don’t think I can live through this moment. Don’t think I can make my body move. I try to do what he says though. I shift in the direction of the central staircase.

Suddenly I see Aidan crouched behind that thick pillar at the top of the steps. He’s firing toward the guys in the hallway the way Cole is. He waves toward me, summoning me to come to him.

I do. I move instinctively. Without thinking. I keep low and rush toward the pillar. A bullet comes so close it ruffles my hair, but it doesn’t hit me. With both Cole and Aidan firing now, the bad guys can’t get in a position to aim carefully.

In a few seconds, Aidan is dragging me down behind the pillar with him. He keeps shooting in the general direction of his targets with one hand while he wraps the other arm around me.

I sob against his shirt, imagining how I’ll ever tell Del that Cole is dead.

“Love, you need to get downstairs. He doesn’t want you to die.”

“I know.” It takes some sort of inhuman effort, but I manage to control my crying. I sniff and wipe my face with my sleeves. “I’ll go now. You come too. Cole said he can hold them off.”

“I know what he said. Go downstairs, sweetheart.”

His voice is different. I can hear it even through the din of gunfire beside and below us. “What are you going to do, Aidan?”

“I’m going to help him, but you need to get out of here first.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue. We don’t have time.”

“But if you help him, you’ll be the one who dies!” All my sobs for Cole and Del have frozen in my throat. Instead, I’m hit with a wave of frozen despair.

Because I knew this was coming. I knew it.

I saw it in Aidan’s face last night. And again this morning.

I somehow knew it would come to this.

“But you’ll live.” Aidan still has his right hand around the pillar, shooting without aiming to provide any sort of cover for Cole he can. But he touches my face with his left hand. “Cole will live, and that matters to you. And you’ll live. That’s what matters to me.”

“You can’t—”

“This is my final answer, love. The good ones get to survive. I’m going to make it true.”

The echo of Mark’s words earlier shakes me. Rocks me. I can’t make my voice work. I can’t do anything at all.

When Aidan gives me a little shove toward the stairs, I go. Crouching low, I stumble toward the stairway, glancing back to see Aidan straighten up, leaning partway behind the pillar so he can fire more effectively.

So he can cover me. So that I can get away.

I’m halfway down the stairs when I look up again.

Cole has gotten out from behind the table. He’s ducking his head and running toward the stairs. Aidan has stepped all the way out from behind the pillar, making himself the only target.

The only target.

His body jerks once, but he keeps firing with both his guns.

Someone shoots the gun out of his left hand, so he keeps shooting with the other. Then another bullet hits, and he falls.

He falls.

He’s killed a lot of them now. There are only two guys left on their feet. They finally come out of the hallway, and both Cole and I rush them in wordless agreement.

We each kill one, so our advance is over in a few seconds.

But it doesn’t matter anymore.

Aidan is already down.

12

AS SOON AS it’s safe, I try to run to Aidan, but a few men are coming up the grand staircase after us, so Cole and I have to fight again.

The battle below us isn’t over. As soon as we get past the guys on the steps, we go down to help. It’s loud and messy and chaotic for several minutes until the front doors burst open. A group of about ten, led by that freckled guy named Ham, rush in from outside where they were making the perimeter safe.

That’s enough reinforcements to shift the balance to our side, and in about five more minutes it’s all over.

The floor is littered with bodies. A few of the bad guys surrender like the ones on the upper floors, but most of them are dead or too injured to put up any more fight. I can’t help but notice that some are women.

Women make up a small percentage of their numbers, but they’re definitely not all men. Despite the way they abused and victimized women and children, there were still women who joined them. Maybe some of them felt trapped and took the path of least resistance the way Mark did, but others probably jumped into the pack enthusiastically.

As I make my way around and over the bodies and climb back up the mezzanine stairs, the sad truth sits in my gut with everything else.

Women can choose to be monsters too.

The thought disperses as I lay eyes on Aidan’s body still sprawled out where he fell, his hair a tangled mess of deep gold. I rush over and kneel beside him, moving my hands along his abdomen to check his condition.

His eyes are closed. There’s blood all over one shoulder. More soaking his trousers at his thigh. And his left hand is bloodied, mangled, unrecognizable as a hand.

But his body is warm. Very warm. And his cheeks still have some color. I feel his face. His neck. I check for a pulse.

“Oh my God, Aidan, please don’t be dead.” My voice is broken. Painfully hoarse. I can’t tell if his heart is beating. I can’t feel any breath from his nostrils. My brief flicker of hope snuffs out, and a sob lodges in my throat as I drop my head to his chest. “Please, Aidan, you can’t be dead.”

The whole world is a blurred daze from the fear and grief and panic in my mind, but Aidan still doesn’t feel dead. He’s so warm. I shake him by his uninjured shoulder. “Wake up! Do you hear me? I know you think you had to die to make up for what you’ve done, but you don’t. That’s not how it works. So wake the hell up!”

There’s a brief, guttural sound, and I swear it comes from Aidan. I keep shaking him. I’m almost yelling at him now. “You great big obnoxious, clueless martyr! I told you to wake the hell up!”

His eyelids flutter. His whole body gives a very small jerk. Then he’s opening his lids and squinting up at me.

“Oh God, please,” I whimper. “Aidan, you’re not allowed to die. I won’t let you.”

He gives a little huff. Blinks several times. “That you, love?”

“Yes, it’s me.” I’m almost crying now, but not quite. He sounds so incredibly weak.

“Should’ve known… you… bossing me around.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to put up with it because I’m not going to let you pay for your sins with your life.” A tear streams out of one of my eyes and plops down right on his chin.

“Sometimes… it happens.”

“Maybe. But not this time. Do you hear me? Not this time!” For good measure, I give his shoulder another gentle shake.

“Sweetheart, listen.” He sounds so incredibly breathless, but his eyes are open now. Gazing up at me, reflecting all his feelings.

There’s so much there it stills me. “I’m listening,” I whisper.

“Something I’ve learned the hard way from living the life I’ve led.” He has to clear his throat before he continues. “When you’re trapped in a gunfight…” There’s an irrepressible glint in his green eyes as he finishes. “Play dead.”

I gasp in startled amusement. Then I completely fall apart, collapsing on his chest somewhere between laughter and sobs.

He’s breathing. I can hear and feel it now. His chest is rising and falling. His breath rasps in his throat, but his lungs sound clear. And his heart is beating beneath my ear. His heartbeat is way too fast, but it’s strong and steady.

He’s going to live. I know it for sure. And nothing will ever dampen his bright, fierce spirit or the soft heart he’s always tried to hide.

His heart is still beating.

And it’s beating just for me.

Aidan does live, but he ends up losing his left hand.

A bullet cut right through it, tearing flesh and bone and tendon and muscle. Maybe in the old world, a surgeon would have been able to rebuild it, but that kind of complex surgery is absolutely impossible now.

He might have actually died from the blood loss had I not managed to tourniquet his arm at the wrist as soon as I realized he was going to live.

Leaving the hand as it is would be asking for constant infections and endless pain, so the doctor amputates it at the wrist joint.

Aidan takes it in stride. He’s surprisingly resigned about it and says it’s a very small loss considering he was absolutely certain he would die. Maybe there’s more trauma that will come out about the loss eventually, but for now he seems okay.

He’s spent the two weeks after the attack trying to get better enough to travel. He’s still not there yet.

We took over the hotel after the assault on it was over. Maria found as many nurses and doctors and healers as our region could provide and had them ready for the aftermath. We set up the first floor of the hotel as a makeshift hospital. A number of folks have either died or gotten better enough to go home by now, but there are still a few patients here including Aidan. And some of the rescued women and others from the nearby settlements have moved in to take advantage of the hotel’s safe position and the food and supplies its previous residents stockpiled.

So there’s a lot of activity here throughout each day, and I find myself going to Aidan’s room quite often to find some peace.

And to see him.

When I enter the room this afternoon, he’s waking up. It takes him a minute to clear his mind and pry his eyes open, but when his gaze settles on me, he smiles. “Hello, love.”

“Hi.”

“You okay? You look tired.”

“I am,” I admit. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“Why not?”

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“No,” he replies, searching my face as if he can see right into my soul. “But there usually is.”

I shift uncomfortably in the chair I keep right next to his bed. “It’s nothing major. The couple in the room next to me were really going at it. Very loudly. With a lot of dirty talk. It…” I repress a shudder. “I don’t know why. I know it’s not fair. But it bothers me.”

He nods and reaches over, fumbling until I give him my hand. “It wasn’t Cole and Del, was it?”

“No! Of course not. They’d never be that loud if they knew someone else could hear. It was a couple we don’t really know. They weren’t doing anything wrong. It’s not their fault I have trauma connected to the rougher kind of sex. But I didn’t get much sleep.”

“I’m sorry. You should have come down here with me.”

“I thought about it. But I didn’t want to wake you up. You’re still getting better.”

“Next time, you wake me up. All right? In fact, tonight come and sleep with me from the beginning.”

I look at him. His hair and face are clean because I wash and shave him regularly. He’s wearing a white undershirt and a pair of loose sweats that are covered by the sheet on the bed. He’s lost a lot of the tan he had, and he’s also lost some weight.

He’s still Aidan, but he’s not well yet.

“You’re not going to disturb me, sweetheart. And I hope you know I have no wayward intentions—”

“I know that! Of course I know you’re not trying to make a move on me. I just worry about you, and I want you to be able to sleep.”

“Then you definitely better sleep here with me. Because if you don’t, I’ll stay awake worrying about you all night.”

I let out a dry huff at that and then give him a nod of acquiescence. “All right. I might do that. It’s a big bed, so there should be room.” It’s a queen-size bed, and Aidan is lying on the right side. There’s no reason we both won’t be able to sleep here without any awkwardness or discomfort.

Aidan pats the empty side of the bed. “Why don’t you lie down next to me right now? I have absolutely no idea what time it is, but there’s got to be time for you to rest before dinner.”

I hesitate only briefly. Then I walk around the bed and stretch out beside him, adjusting on my side so I’m facing him.

He turns his head and smiles at me.

I reach over to stroke his face, using that opportunity to feel his forehead and make sure he doesn’t have a fever.

He doesn’t. His skin is cool and dry.

He knows what I’m doing because his expression turns dryly amused.

“You’ve got three different injuries, and all of them could have been serious. You lost your hand. I just want to make sure you’re not getting an infection.”

“I know you are. I don’t deserve all the care you’ve been giving me.”

I shrug and smile, self-conscious and not sure how to respond to that.

He must know I’m feeling awkward because he changes the subject. “What’s going on out there today?” He’s able to stand up now and take several steps, but the doctor still doesn’t want him going outside where he’ll be likely to encounter more germs.

“Oh, a lot of hassle. A few new folks have moved in upstairs. The extended family of one of the girls they kept here. And Maria and her group are getting ready to leave.”

“Are they? Where are they headed?”

“Back to Kentucky, I think.” The others from Kentucky—Cal, Rachel, Mack and the others—drove back the day after the attack so they could return Gail’s body to New Haven, which was evidently her home. I was sorry I couldn’t spend more time with them, but they couldn’t linger. “She said they need a rest, which I’m sure is true. They lost several of their number, and that’s got to be hard.”

In total, we lost eleven of the people who gathered to attack the hotel. Quite a few more were injured. And Cole lost Mark. He buried him the day after in a sunny grove in the woods nearby since Cole was grazed by a bullet and the trip back to Monument was too far.

“Yeah. Can you ask Maria to stop by to see me before she leaves? I’d like to thank her.”

“I will for sure. They aren’t leaving until tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good.” He darts me a quick look. “You’re not tempted to go with them?”

“No. I thought about it at one time, but for me it would only be a way to run away. I don’t want to leave Del and Cole. And this region feels like my home, so I want to stay here.” I clear my throat. “And I might miss you a little bit too.”

He chuckles softly and reaches over with his right hand—his only hand—and lightly strokes back a few stray hairs that have escaped my braids. “I hope you would. My days would look awfully bleak without you in them, but I want what’s best for you. If that’s leaving, then I want you to do that.”

“I don’t think that’s best for me.”

“Okay. Then that’s good.”

We look at each other for a long time.

I know he loves me. After everything that’s happened, I never doubt it anymore. I know he wants to share the rest of his life with me although he hasn’t asked for it.

All I need to do is tell him I love him too. That I want to be with him just as much. That I forgive him for lying, for trying to protect himself in a way that ended up hurting me. That he’s proven in every conceivable way that he’ll now always put me first.

But there’s a tiny twisting of fear inside me that’s holding me back from taking that final step.

I don’t know what it is, but it keeps me silent right now.

I’m not sure which of us would have spoken first if there hadn’t been a tap on the door just then.

“Come in,” Aidan calls out.

When the door swings open, Del comes in with Cole right behind her. “I told you she’d be here,” she says, looking up at Cole.

I laugh at that, sitting up since I feel too vulnerable lying down on the bed next to Aidan in their presence. “I am here. You were looking for me?”

“Yeah.” Del glances over at Aidan. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Pretty good overall. I wish I wasn’t so damn weak, but the doctor keeps saying it’s normal.”

“I’m sure it is. You’ve done amazing so far.” Del looks back over at me. “We were thinking about heading home to Monument tomorrow if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course it’s all right with me. You could have gone earlier.”

“I know. But Cole’s injury needed to heal, and we wanted to make sure Aidan was all right, and there was a lot of work we could help with here. But we’ve been gone for a long time. Since Aidan is on the road to recovery and you’re doing okay too, we thought…”

“You should definitely go home. I’ll be back there as soon as I can.”

Del hugs me tightly although we’ll have plenty of time for goodbyes tomorrow. When she pulls away, she says to Aidan, “And I hope to see you too?” She lifts her tone at the end to make it a soft question.

“It’s going to be a while before I’m fit to set out on the road again full time,” Aidan says with easy nonchalance. “So I’ll have to settle somewhere until I’m back to full strength. If you’d like me in Monument, then that’s where I’ll be.”

He’s answering Del, but his eyes shift to my face. It’s obvious to all of us who the you in his last sentence is.

“You should definitely come back with us,” I tell him, no hesitation about this question. “As soon as you’re able to travel, we’ll go.”

Aidan’s expression relaxes, and he grins over at Del. “Well, there you have it then. I’ll see you both as soon as I can.”

Del leans over and kisses his cheek. “I know you haven’t wanted to hear thanks from anyone, but I’m going to do it anyway. Cole told me what happened. How you risked your life to save him. And I’ll never stop thanking you for that.”

My chest is tight with emotion as Del straightens up. There’s a faint tear streak on her cheek.

Aidan mumbles something wordlessly, clearly uncomfortable.

Del understands. She’s smiling as she steps back from the bed.

Cole hasn’t said anything the whole time they’ve been in here. He’s simply not a talker, and he’s been quieter than usual after his brother’s death. Del told me that he needs to grieve, but she thinks it’s actually better for him this way. At least he has closure with Mark now. And he was able to get his brother back at the very end.

He steps over now and reaches out to grip Aidan’s one good hand.

Aidan returns the gesture, acknowledging the other man’s thanks.

Then Cole touches me lightly on the shoulder as he passes by. “We’ll see you at home.”

I smile, wondering if I can dare hug him. I glance over at Del, who gives me the silent okay.

So I hug Cole and then Del again before they both leave.

I stretch out on the bed beside Aidan. He reaches over his body to take and hold my hand. Our twined hands rest on his belly.

Maybe I should say something now, but it doesn’t feel necessary. So I don’t.

I hold Aidan’s hand until I fall asleep.

It’s another two weeks before Aidan is well enough to travel, and even then our trip to Monument takes longer than a week since we can’t go as far each day as we normally would have. Aidan can’t walk as fast as he used to, and with only one hand, he needs help with his cart anytime we go uphill.

I don’t care.

Aidan hasn’t gotten an infection. His more minor injuries have almost fully healed. The stump where his hand was is still bandaged tightly, but it’s healing too. And he’s so happy to be back on the road even though he’s not yet at his full strength.

I’m happy too. Happier than I knew it was possible for me to be anymore. It’s not like all the pain I’ve lived through has been wiped away, but it finally feels like I have a chance to move past it. Live a life where it isn’t always haunting my steps.

I’m not there yet, but maybe I can be.

That hope is more than I ever believed I could achieve, and I’m still not sure how I’ve gotten here.

I’m also happy simply to be with Aidan. To know he loves me and that he’s never leaving—not unless I ask him to.

Which I’m never planning to do.

We get to Monument just after noon, and we head directly to the cottage I share with Del and Cole. For now, Aidan will live there too.

Eventually I’d like for Aidan and me to get our own place and let Del and Cole have the cottage, but since I haven’t even managed to tell him I love him yet, that might be a bit premature.

Aidan is smiling as we walk the last stretch up the side street toward the cottage, both of us pushing the cart.

“You look happy,” I tell him.

“I am happy. It… it keeps surprising me since I didn’t think I was capable of being happy after my family died. I fell into a tolerable routine, but I wasn’t ever happy.” His hair is gilded gold in the bright sunlight. “Not until I met you.”

“Not at first,” I say, trying to keep our tone light so I don’t get overwhelmed with emotion this close to home. “At first I drove you crazy. You weren’t happy then.”

He chuckles and stops walking so he can turn to face me. “Maybe? But I’m honestly not sure. Because even then the world felt different to me. Like maybe I actually had a purpose for staying alive. Even if that purpose was trying to hold my own with you, it was better than nothing. And when I finally let go of the rivalry…”

I could move us past this moment, keep him from saying what will touch me down deep in my core. Instead, I say breathlessly, “What?”

“When I finally let go, I found this space in the world I share only with you—where I can be at peace and also thrillingly alive at the exact same time.”

My throat tightens. “Aidan.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not forcing a conversation on you that you’re not ready for. I can wait as long as you need. Or we can stay like this for the rest of our lives, and I’ll still be happier than I’ve known was possible. Because that space of safety with you exists whether we’re having sex or not, whether we’re ever romantic again. It’s always going to be there for me as long as you’re in my life. And that alone will make me happy.”

His voice breaks a few times as he offers this heartfelt confession, and his eyes are very soft as they gaze down on me. Tender.

My face twists up with a surge of emotion. I grip fistfuls of his jacket. “I do love you, Aidan,” I rasp out before I rethink the instinct.

He jerks. Makes a guttural sound. His eyes blaze with something like joy. “Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right. You already knew it, so don’t pretend it’s a surprise.”

“I did hope. But you have every reason not to.”

“And even more reasons to. I love you.” I move my hands up to cup his jaw on both sides. “And you’re my safe place too.”

With a throaty moan, he leans down to kiss me. I kiss him back, eager and emotional and just a little clumsy.

We’re both smiling again as we pull away. Despite the distraction of the jolting excitement in my heart, my body is starting to hum in anticipation, responding to the idea of being with Aidan intimately again.

I’m not fully aroused, but I’m closer right now than I’ve been since he and I broke up.

He strokes my cheek with his knuckles. “Your sister is watching us from out the window,” he drawls. “So why don’t we have the rest of this conversation later?”

I’m beaming and can’t seem to stop. “That sounds like a good idea to me.”

That evening, Del, Cole, Aidan and I sit around after dinner and talk for a long time. It’s the best evening I can remember.

As the time passes, however, Aidan gets quieter, and his eyes grow bleary. Finally he says he’s got to go to bed.

He’s still not fully recovered, and the trip back to Monument was hard on him.

I get up to go with him, but he’s worried because it’s relatively early. He wants me to spend more time hanging out with my sister instead of turning in early just for him. So he convinces me to stay up a couple more hours.

Later, after we’ve locked up the cottage for the night, I slip into the bedroom that’s always been mine as soundlessly as possible.

The room is mostly dark, but Aidan left one small candle burning on the dresser so I’d have some light to get ready for bed.

I wash up as thoroughly as I can in the basin and then dry off and brush my hair and teeth before I put on my nightgown. As I move toward the bed, my foot lands on a creaky board, and it groans startlingly loud.

I freeze.

Aidan chuckles from the bed. “I’m already awake, love. Don’t worry about it.”

“I was trying not to wake you up.”

“I know. You’ve been impressively quiet. But I woke up as soon as you came in.” He shifts in bed, his tone changing slightly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

My chest clenches. So does my pussy. I climb into bed beside him, scooting over closer. “You were supposed to be sleeping.”

“I did sleep. But now I’m awake.”

I move over him so I can kiss him. He combs his fingers through my hair. By the time our lips disconnect, I’m basically lying on top of him. I lift my head and smile at him in the flickering light of the candle I left burning.

He smiles back. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.” It’s so exciting—so freeing—to be able to say it.

“I did want to…” He clears his throat. “I wanted to make sure you’re not feeling obliged in any way, merely because I got injured and you’re grateful.”

I make a rough sound of objection.

“Because I did what I did because I needed to do it. Because it was the right thing to do. Not because I expected to be rewarded.”

“I know that. Of course I know that. You expected to die. I don’t feel grateful.”

He huffs dryly and asks in a teasing tone, “Not even a little?”

I giggle helplessly and press a few small kisses on his mouth. “Okay. I feel grateful a lot, but I’m not confusing that with love. I loved you before your grand sacrificial gesture.”

“You did?” He’s quiet now. Almost intense.

“Yes. I was scared. I think I loved you before… before we broke up. Maybe before we had sex. I don’t think I’d have ever wanted to have sex with anyone unless my feelings were already… already attached. But I was scared to process it back then, and then I was terrified of getting hurt again after we broke up. It’s been a long time since I’ve really trusted a man. Trusted anyone but Del.”

“I know.” He’s caressing my hair and my back again with his right hand. “You were just starting to open up to me. To let me in. And I got so scared of losing you that I took a wrecking ball to what had barely begun between us.”

“But my feelings didn’t go away. And it’s only now that it feels like it’s safe to… to let them be.”

He curves his hand around the back of my head and gently presses me down into another kiss. A slower, longer one.

Whatever was worrying him before has fully been answered now. He’s completely absorbed in the kiss.

Soon I am too. All the whirling thoughts in my head grow still in the warm, tender excitement that’s coiling in my body and my heart. After a few minutes of kissing and stroking each other, I’m fully aroused, hot and wet between my legs and shamelessly rocking my body on top of his.

Finally, when my patience reaches its end, I readjust my position so I’m sitting up and straddling him.

He gazes up at me like he’s mesmerized. Even more so when I pull my nightgown off over my head.

He’s only got one hand now to caress me with, but it’s more than enough. He teases one of my nipples. Then the other. I arch backward and gasp at the pleasure.

After a few minutes, I start kissing down his body until I discover he’s naked under the covers. Giggling, I take his hard cock in my hands, stroking it until he’s groaning. Then I slide my mouth down around him, sucking him deep a few times. He bites back a helpless moan and rolls his hips against my mouth.

Before I take him all the way, I let his cock slide out of my mouth. He’s tired tonight, and he might not have more than one round in him. I want him to come inside me.

“Yes, love, climb on top of me again. Fuck, you’re so beautiful like that.” He’s breathing heavily as I position myself above him, and he holds his cock in place until I’ve lined myself up and sunk down, taking him into my pussy. “Fuck, love. You feel so good. You always feel so good. I’ve missed you so much.”

I let out a soft, lingering moan in pleasure from both the penetration and his raw, ardent words. “I’ve missed you too. So much.” I sway over him gently, sliding my hands up and down his chest, making sure to avoid the reddened skin where the doctor stitched up his shoulder wound.

He’s holding on to my hip with his hand, and he’s got the other arm sprawled out to the side, like he’s instinctively trying to grip the bedding even without his left hand.

He’s thrusting up into me from below, urgent and rhythmic but not rough. The friction gets me going even more, and I speed up excitedly, huffing in time to our motion.

“That’s so good, love. I can feel you getting tighter. You’re going to come soon. You’re going to feel so good.”

“Y-yes,” I hiss, dropping my head as the sensations build to a peak. “Gonna come. Hard.”

“Just let go. Don’t hold anything back. Take everything you want.”

I whimper softly as I work harder toward climax. My pussy is clenching around his erection as I fall into release. As I’m shaking and gasping, Aidan moves his hand to find and rub my clit.

I let out a startled cry of sharp pleasure as my pussy clamps down tight and then flutters wildly. He pushes up against my contractions with his cock and massages my clit so the spasms of pleasure keep coming and coming.

When I’ve finally had enough, I gently pull his hand away and shift positions so I can give him what he needs too. He grunts as he thrusts up into me harder and faster. I squeeze around him and grind down against his pumps. It’s only a couple of minutes before he’s able to let go.

His exclamation of release is too loud, so I cover his mouth with my hand to stifle the sound.

He jerks beneath me and gasps against my hand until he’s worked through his release. Then he reaches up to take my hand, kissing my palm before drawing it away.

“Sorry about that, love,” he rasps, smiling up at me, his face flushed and damp. “I’ve got to learn to be quieter.”

I giggle and let his cock slip out of me. Lie down on top of him again, kissing him before I bury my face against the crook of his neck. “We won’t always be sharing this cottage, so you won’t always have to be quiet.”

It feels like he’s smiling although I can’t see his expression. “I wouldn’t normally consider myself an uninhibited person, but there’s something about you that drives me wild.”

I laugh again, soft and fond. Kiss the throbbing pulse in his throat. He’s still trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry we can’t be totally wild.”

“Like you said, we won’t always be sharing a cottage.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Now that the thought has flashed into my mind, it’s demanding attention. So as embarrassing as it is, I make myself explain. “I mean, with all my issues, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to… I’ll do the best I can, but it’s possible we won’t ever be able to have really wild, dirty, rough sex. If it’s too much like that, it might make me… make me sick.”

“I never want to do anything you’re not comfortable with, sweetheart. You know that.”

“I do know that. And I appreciate it. That you’ve always been so… so careful and gentle with me. But I don’t want you to be disappointed in… in…”

Aidan’s body has grown still beneath mine. “Breanna, I’m not sure how you were planning to finish that sentence, but I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that there’s absolutely nothing about being with you—emotionally or physically—that’s been disappointing to me.”

“Okay.” I gulp over a tension in my throat. “I hope not. It’s just that… Like you said last month, back before the attack, the shit in our lives follows us, and what’s happened in my past is always going to follow me to a certain extent. And it’s going to limit the kind of sex we have. And I’d feel bad if you couldn’t get what you needed.”

He lifts up my head so he can see my expression. “Have I ever made you question that I’m not getting exactly what I need in you?”

I shake my head since he never has.

“Then where is this coming from? Why have you gotten it into your head that I’m secretly hoping for a lot of rough, raunchy fucking from you?”

I open my mouth to answer but close it again because I honestly don’t have an answer for him. It’s simply an insecurity that filled my head just now. “I… I don’t know. I was just suddenly worried. I mean, some men… some men have fantasies. They want it like that.”

“And some men don’t.” He cups my cheek and meets my eyes soberly. “Sweetheart, men are as different from each other as women are. We don’t all want the same things. I’m not like the men who’ve used you in the past. I don’t want to use your body to feed my ego, and I don’t need to dominate you to feel like a man. I guess I’ve always been rather an old-fashioned guy. I married young and never felt the compulsion to sow a lot of wild, dirty oats. Until you, I didn’t have sex with anyone after Sarah and the boys died. I barely even felt the urges. I want…” He turns his head to the side for a moment like he’s almost embarrassed at himself. But he continues, “I want to love you, not possess you. This is me, love. Getting everything I want with you. Letting go completely. This is what it looks like for me.”

I clench my eyes and throat around a little sob of feeling. But I nod so he knows I’ve heard and understood. When I’ve gotten the emotion under control, I rasp, “This is what it looks like for me too.”

“Then we’re good.” He pulls me down to kiss him. “Because loving you exactly like this fulfills every fantasy I’ve ever had.”

Six weeks later, Aidan and I push his cart out of Monument’s front gate and head out onto the road again.

We’ve got a relatively short trip planned. We’re going to deliver a few messages—two for the town and one to check in with a network that Maria, Mack, and the folks in Kentucky set up to provide assistance to folks who need it. They arranged a few different drop spots in this region, so we’re going to check the one closest to us.

Then we’ll head to Sharpsburg to see if James has any new jobs for us and over to the militia ranch to check in with Agatha.

Aidan and I have decided to keep our home base as Monument but still travel quite a bit. We probably won’t be able to cover as much territory as Aidan used to. He’s almost completely healed now, but he’ll never again be in his former condition after suffering such a severe injury. And I don’t always want to be on the run like I used to be.

I’d kind of like to finally put down a few roots.

So the next week traveling will be a test run—not only to see if Aidan is up to it yet but also to see if it’s going to work for us to do our traveling together.

If not, we can settle, and we can each go out on runs alone whenever we want. We’ve agreed we can make it work either way.

Aidan is smiling as the sun hits his skin and glints brightly off his hair. The air is cool but not frigid, relatively comfortable for winter. He’s got his hand on one of the handles of his cart, and I’m gripping the other.

“You excited?” I ask him, although I already know the answer.

“Yes. I’ve missed this.”

“Me too. I think we’re going to do okay as long as we don’t run into any more snowstorms.”

He chuckles. “That snowstorm gave me everything—everything—so I’ll never complain about the weather again.”

“Yeah. Maybe this spring we can hike back up the mountain and visit our little church again.”

“I’d like that.” He squares his shoulders, relaxed and warm and clever and forever irrepressible. “But for now, let’s head for Sharpsburg and see what’s waiting for us there.”

So that’s what we do.

EPILOGUE

EIGHT MONTHS LATER, Aidan and I hike through the mountains to the west until we reach our little stone church.

We haven’t been out this way since last year. We’ve had too much else to do, settling into a life together and getting back on a semiregular schedule for trade, deliveries, or message runs. It’s been better than I would have expected. The long trips we make together, although we often go out alone for the short runs that will get us back home on the same day. We also do guard duty on the wall in Monument, and Aidan likes to help sometimes in the community kitchen since he enjoys cooking.

We’ve been busy with life, and this week has been the first one where we could realistically get away for nonwork reasons.

It’s taken us a few days to hike this far, and we’ve had a great time since the weather is good. Cool but sunny. The air and the ground are dry, and the wind is mild.

We couldn’t have asked for a better week to make our trip.

The higher we get in altitude, the fewer communities and fellow travelers we encounter. By the time the church is in sight, we might as well be all alone in the world.

We’ve got Aidan’s cart with us, so it takes some effort to get it up the steeper inclines. Both of us have to push, me with both hands and Aidan with his right hand and the contraption Cole designed for him on his left that allows him to grip the handle.

When we draw the cart to a stop at the front steps of the church, both of us are winded. Aidan has never regained his former strength after his injuries, and I’m more used to shorter, less rigorous travels now.

Neither one of us cares if we can’t do as much as we used to. We’re so much happier now.

“Now’s the time to see if anyone has been here since we left it,” Aidan says, leaving the cart and starting up the steps. I follow him, and we both watch wordlessly as he tries the door handle. Swings it open. Steps inside.

“Looks good,” he says, moving out of the way so I can come in too.

It does. The inside of the church is exactly as we left it down to the neatly folded robes and table coverings on one of the back pews.

The building smells musty and closed in. It definitely needs to be aired out. But it’s dark and silent and free from invading nature or wildlife.

No one has been here since us.

Aidan meets my gaze, and we smile at each other.

We’re prepared this time. We’ve brought plenty of food and water, as well as toiletries, better bedding, and extra clothes. It takes a while to haul everything in and arrange it to Aidan’s orderly preferences.

It’s close to dark by the time we’re done, and the air is getting cooler, so we start a fire in the woodstove, and Aidan makes a big pot of potato, carrot, and pork jerky stew.

We eat it with a bottle of white wine—one of the three we saved from last year. The sweetest one. Aidan is worried I’m not going to like the drier wines because I’ve never had the chance to cultivate the taste. We traded one of the remaining three bottles a while back but not the other two.

We stick to one glass each so we can save the rest of the wine for tomorrow. It’s just as well. Even one glass of wine—after spending my entire adulthood with no access to alcohol—makes me embarrassingly giggly.

Tomorrow we’re planning to hike farther over to the old ski resort and attempt to dig out more of the wine cellar to retrieve more bottles. The following day, Aidan wants to see if we can get to the top of the mountain. On the third day, we’re going to rest and then start heading back home the day after that.

Maybe I’m giddy about being on vacation—which is exactly what this trip feels like to me—even more than being tipsy from only one glass of wine.

Aidan is in a good mood too. I can see it in how relaxed his body is, how soft his features are, how warm his eyes are. After we finished eating, he stretches out on the makeshift bed we prepared with blankets, pillows, and long pew cushions. He’s staring at the fire flickering in the woodstove.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him, pulling out my braids and brushing my hair as the first step for getting ready for bed.

“How different things are from last year,” he answers immediately. Without any hesitation. “When we got here last year, my world was being entirely disrupted by you, and that was my main focus. But I was still living every day with a tight knot of grief and stress and anxiety in my gut. One I never let myself release.”

I set down my hairbrush and crawl over to nestle at his side, pleased when he puts his arm around me and draws me even closer. “I know that feeling. It was pretty much the same with me, except it felt like a heavy weight rather than a tight knot.”

He kisses my hair a few times. “Even after we got together, that knot didn’t go away. I think that’s why I was so… desperate to keep you that I lied and tried to hide what I was doing.”

“I know. I get it. You don’t have to apologize for that again. I forgave you a long time ago.”

“Yes. I know you did. And I’m not really apologizing. More reflecting. It didn’t hit me until this evening. And I realize that the knot is…” He shakes his head. “It’s gone. Not that I never feel it, but it’s not there all the time anymore.”

I turn my body and stretch up so I can kiss his mouth. “Good.”

He responds to my kiss, cupping one of my cheeks. “What about your weight?”

“It’s a lot lighter,” I tell him honestly. “Sometimes I feel it more than others. Whenever I think about Del and Cole’s baby…” My throat tightens as I think about Del, who is currently late in her pregnancy. She and Cole got married in the early spring in the dress I gave her—just in time because not long after her belly wouldn’t have fit in it. “Of course I’m happy for them. I can’t wait to meet our niece or nephew. But I feel that weight more when I think about it. Someone else to take care of. To keep alive. And someone so entirely vulnerable.”

“She’s been quite healthy so far,” Aidan murmurs. “There’s no reason to assume she won’t do fine during the birth and both her and the baby will be well.”

“I know. But it scares me anyway.” I smile and rub my face in his shirt. “Why can’t people stay in a nice safe bubble where I can make sure they’re always okay?”

Aidan chuckles. “That would be convenient, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Well, at least you no longer have to carry that weight alone.”

The words are fond and light, but the truth of them startles me. Touches me. My eyes burn slightly as I process them. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.”

He sees my emotional response. Raises my face so he can kiss me again. This time the kiss deepens as we both let that wave of deep feeling draw us into physical arousal.

Soon he eases me down onto my back and moves above me, kissing me hungrily as I wrap my arms and legs around him. Then we’re taking off each other’s clothes, and he’s kissing his way down my body.

When he hooks my legs over his shoulders and makes me come with his mouth, I’m so wrapped up in everything I’m feeling that I cry out uninhibitedly, much louder than I normally am.

We’re all alone, so it doesn’t matter, and Aidan enjoys my shamelessness.

When he’s satisfied that he’s pleased me enough, he finally straightens up. Wipes his face, which is wet from my fluids, and then moves back over me again. Together, we pull him into position so he can push his cock inside me.

He grunts as he takes me, occasionally gasping out how much he loves me and how nothing has ever felt better than letting himself go in me.

I don’t come again, so I can fully focus on Aidan. His building tension, his naked devotion, the deep pleasure that rises and rises until it finally breaks. He’s even louder than I was as he comes, and he grinds his hips against mine as he works through the spasms.

He doesn’t pull out. In all this time, he never has. He doesn’t even pretend he should anymore.

I’m not going to get pregnant.

With all the enthusiastic sex we’ve had this year, if I was capable of getting pregnant, surely I would have by now.

That thought flutters briefly at the back of my mind as we kiss and hold each other afterward. I try to brush it aside but can’t, and eventually Aidan has recovered enough to notice.

“What’s the matter, love?”

“Nothing. Nothing that matters. That was so good.”

“It was incredible.” I’m sprawled out on top of him, and his hand is sliding up and down from my hair to my bottom. “But now you’re thinking about something that’s troubling you, and you don’t get to hide that from me.”

I kiss his shoulder. His chest. Breathe until I work up the courage. “Does it… does it bother you? That we probably won’t be able to have kids?”

His hand grows still on my back. He’s silent as he processes the question.

“No,” he says after a minute. “It honestly doesn’t.”

I lift my head to check his face. Hope has sparked in my chest. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. I don’t think I want another child. I loved Will and Hal. I’ll always love them. But I was a different person back then. The man I was back then wanted to be a father. The man I am now… doesn’t. Maybe it’s selfish. Or maybe it’s that weight you were talking about before, but I honestly don’t want to live in constant fear that something terrible will happen to another child of mine.” He takes a slightly shaky breath. “I don’t want it.”

I give him a wobbly smile. “Okay. Good.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t really want it either. I never have. It felt like I did all the parenting duties I could manage taking care of Del all those years. I know it wasn’t the same, but that’s how it felt to me. I’m so happy. Just with you. I don’t really want any more of… of that kind of weight on my shoulders. But I also hate for you to miss out on anything that you might want just because my body won’t cooperate.”

“Your body is absolutely perfect for me. Exactly as it is.” He leans up to kiss me lightly. “That’s not to say if somehow it changes, I won’t adjust. I promise I’ll be fully devoted to our family, whatever it happens to look like. If we have a baby, I will love that baby, and I’ll gladly take on that weight of responsibility again. But I’m not… waiting for it.”

“Okay good. Me either.”

“And it’s nice not to always have to pull out since I’m clearly not very good at it.”

I giggle at that and snuggle against his warm, lean body. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m good at other things.”

“Yes, you are. And we’re better at a lot of things together.”

“True. So what do you say, love? Do you want to be good together forever?”

“Yes.” I’m smiling against his chest. “Yes, I do.”

Note: There will be two more books in the Kindled series. Homestead features characters we haven’t yet met, and it will be coming out in May. There’s a short preview excerpt from Homestead on the following pages. And then Beacon, which is Mack and Anna’s book, will close out the series later next year. As I mentioned before, I do have some ideas for a spin-off series, so I may continue writing in this world after Beacon as long as the inspiration continues.

EXCERPT FROM HOMESTEAD

Late in the afternoon, everyone else has finished their chores, but I’m still hunched over the large tub, scrubbing shirts and underwear against the washboard.

I will be the first to admit I’ve been spoiled. As a child with pale blond hair and round, rosy cheeks, I looked and was often treated like a doll. Even after Impact, my grandfather’s ingenuity saved me from any difficult manual labor. I’m not strong. I’m not tough. I’m not skilled at anything except convincing strangers to provide assistance. But still…

I’m trying to do the job the Carlsons gave me without complaining even if it means they’re starting to eat dinner while I’m not even close to done.

It’s better than starving, and I’ve finally figured out how to rub the fabric against the washboard without scraping up my knuckles and getting blood everywhere.

Because I’m focused so intently on my work, I gasp when someone suddenly sits down on the bench beside me. I blink a few times before I process that it’s Jimmy.

I haven’t talked to him since he saved my life. He’s been around on and off these past few weeks, but he never speaks to me.

“Hi,” I say since he’s sitting there on the edge of the bench, staring at me mutely.

“Hi.” His hair and beard need trimming even more than they did before. His eyes are a very dark brown. He’s got a prominent scar that slashes down his forehead and into his left eyebrow. He shifts slightly in his seat.

I drop my eyes back to the laundry, awkward and confused. I’m working on a man’s white T-shirt that was covered with dirt and sweat. “Did you need something?” I ask him, praying he’s not here to give me any more work.

Naturally, I’m grateful for these people housing and feeding me. But at this rate I’ll be up to midnight trying to finish my chores.

He leans forward, taking the washboard and wet shirt from my hands. Then starts cleaning it himself.

“Was I doing it wrong?” My voice wobbles slightly since I actually thought I was doing good for once.

“No.” He sounds surprised and glances up to search my face. “Thought you could use a break.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

I take a few deep breaths and smooth back several loose strands of hair that have escaped my ponytail. I’m sure my cheeks are red. I’m definitely sweating.

He works the shirt with quick efficiency while I sit and watch him. I feel like one of us should say something, but I have no idea what to say to this man.

He’s big and strong and capable and quiet. He’s got to be in his thirties. He has a big family and a lot of friends. What the hell is he even doing sitting here with me?

Maybe he feels sorry for me because I have nothing and no one. The thought makes my spine stiffen.

When he’s finished with the shirt, I take it to rinse and stop him before he pulls out a pair of boxers. “I don’t mind doing them,” I tell him. “It’s my job.”

He looks for a moment like he’ll object but then changes his mind. He sits back. Adjusts his position. Clears his throat.

I give him a curious look as I start scrubbing the boxers on the washboard.

It’s kind of gross to launder a man’s underwear like this. I don’t even know who these belong to.

Jimmy clears his throat again.

“Are you getting a cold?” I ask him, hoping it’s not too contagious.

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.” My back is killing me from leaning over for so long. Surely there’s a more comfortable position for me to do this work. I scoot farther to the edge of the bench and try not to hunch my shoulders.

“I got a place of my own,” Jimmy blurts out.

I’m surprised by the out-of-context announcement, but at least he’s making conversation. It’s better than the awkward silence. “Do you? I figured you must since I don’t see you here at the farm very much.”

“Yeah. It was my fishing cabin back before Impact. So the property has a good pond.”

“Are there still fish?”

“Yep.” He’s looking between my face and the washtub. “Not as many as before but still got some. It’s in the woods, and the wildlife is finally startin’ to come back. So I can do some hunting. Really helps in the winter.”

“I bet.” It must be nice to have both fish and wild game available for food. Grandpa and I spent years eating nothing but scavenged canned and dried food from the old world. “Sounds like a good situation.”

“It’s pretty good. Also got chickens and pigs. And I cleared out space for a big garden.”

“That was smart. So I guess you’re in pretty good shape for food.” I make sure to sound polite and interested although I’m honestly a little annoyed by his bragging.

Surely he knows I have nothing. Why the hell would he go on and on about how good he has it when I’m relying purely on charity?

Maybe he’s one of those guys who gets an ego boost from other people hearing about how great he is. He didn’t seem like that before, but I don’t genuinely know the man at all.

“Yeah. Also trade for milk with the Hurleys. So got plenty. More than I need.” He’s staring at me, breathing in long slow inhales and exhales.

I frown, wondering what he’s expecting me to say. “That’s great for you.”

After a minute, he clears his throat again and looks away. “The cabin’s in good shape. Got a decent bedroom, plus a smaller extra room. Had to build an outhouse after Impact, but I made a covered walkway so it’s not too bad going out in bad weather.”

Goodness, why on earth is he going on and on about this? “Oh, that must work nicely.”

“It does.”

He seems to be waiting for me to say something, but I’m as clueless as ever. Instead of replying, I smile at him, and he looks almost surprised. Kind of smiles back before he stares down at the pile of laundry.

We’re both silent for a minute before he mutters, “I do all the outdoor chores. The garden and the animals and fishin’ and huntin’ and work on the yard and the house.”

“That must be a lot to do by yourself.”

“I can manage. But don’t have much time left for the inside stuff. Cookin’ and cleanin’ and laundry and stuff.”

“Well, that’s understandable. It would be nearly impossible for you to do everything.” Just doing the laundry is taking me all day. How could he possibly do all the chores for an entire household all on his own? “I’m sure no one blames you for that.”

“No. No, they don’t.” He clears his throat yet again.

I want to ask him again about having a cold. It sure sounds like he’s got something wrong with his throat. I bite back the inquiry, however, since he shrugged it off before.

He’s doing that staring and waiting again. I’m so confused by his behavior I focus back down on the washboard. I’ve got the boxers done now, so I rinse and wring them out.

“Be good to have someone to help,” Jimmy finally mutters.

“Well, yeah. You could definitely use some help. Easier to split the chores.” I’m still smiling at him kindly, but I’m ready for this weird conversation to be over.

He takes a weird raspy breath. “Kinda lonely sometimes too.”

“Yes. It must be. But it’s good you have so much family and friends around.” I glance back to the big living room, where everyone else is mingling.

Imagine complaining about being lonely when you have so many people in your community.

I only had my grandfather, and now he’s gone.

He shifts restlessly. “Been lookin’ for someone.”

I glance over because he sounds different. More mumbly than ever. He’s not even looking at me.

“A woman,” he adds, darting me a quick look.

“Oh. Yeah. That makes sense.” I take out my impatience on another dirty shirt and my washboard. Why won’t the man just shut up?

He seems kind of impatient too. Like he’s expecting something from me, and I’m not providing it. “So thought… thought I’d ask… you.”

I stop scrubbing and stare at him. This is getting ridiculous. I finally say bluntly, “Ask me what?”

He frowns, almost grumpy. “Ask if you wanna be my woman.”

Shock. That’s my initial reaction. My eyes widen, and my mouth falls open.

His frown deepens. “You surprised?”

“Yes, I’m surprised,” I choke out. “You’re asking if I want to be your woman?”

“Course. Why the hell else would be I ramblin’ on about all this?”

“I didn’t know. You’re… you’re asking me?”

“Sure. Not a lot of single women around. Been watchin’ you.”

My surprise is finally breaking, and my chest instead swells with excitement.

He’s asking me. Offering me a home and a place in the world and food and shelter and safety that I have absolutely no other way of obtaining.

“But I don’t know how to do most of those chores.”

He shrugs. “You can learn. You’re already doin’ good.” He nods down toward the laundry. “You’re a hard worker. You’ll be fine.”

I moisten my dry lips and turn toward him more fully. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I am.” He’s meeting my eyes for real now. Seems sincere. “I need help. It’s too much to do on my own. And be nice to have some company.”

I want to hug myself. Barely manage to keep my voice and my posture calm and mild. “I would… I would like to try. But I honestly don’t have much experience with this kind of work. I’d hate if you were disappointed.”

He shrugs, his expression relaxing. “Don’t have unrealistic expectations. We can figure it out.”

My mind is whirling so much it takes a minute for me to think through the next logical question. “So… just so I understand. You’re looking for… for a partner?”

He nods and glances away. “Yeah. That’s right. A partner.”

“So you and I would…” The words get trapped in my throat.

He appears equally embarrassed. His cheeks are slightly flushed. “We don’t have to do anythin’… anythin’ in the bedroom right away. I mean, we can get to know each other and see how it goes. But I wanna partner. Not a maid.”

My cheeks burn, and I twist my hands together to keep them from shaking. This is like a dream. Like a miracle.

I’d be willing to be a maid if that was what he needed—if it meant I was sheltered and provided for—but I’d rather be someone’s partner. Closer to an equal.

Jimmy might be kind of gruff and grumpy, but he’s not mean. I know it for sure. He’s not even bad-looking. He just needs some better grooming.

And being his partner is a better option than I believed was possible for me.

ABOUT CLAIRE KENT

Claire has been writing romance novels since she was twelve years old. After teaching English at the university level for several years, she started writing full-time under two different pen names. She lives in Virginia.

Her early books are sexy contemporary romances filled with heat and real emotion, but with the Hold series she transitioned to science fiction romance. Her current books are steamy post-apocalyptic romance set in the near future after a global catastrophe. They feature smart, resilient women trying to survive in a new chaotic world and falling in love with strong, gruff, taciturn men.

Claire also writes softer contemporary romances as Noelle Adams (noelle-adams.com), and the best way to reach her is to send an email to her Noelle Adams address (noelle.s.adams@gmail). You can also follow Noelle on Facebook or join her reader group to get updates on her Claire Kent books. If you would like more information, please check out her website.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Contents

Copyright

About Sanctuary

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Excerpt from Homestead

About Claire Kent