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She pulls her hand away and I stop her, wrapping my fingers around hers and placing it back on my cheek to trace the same path I’d traced countless nights before. “I was waiting to see the same look of disgust on your face that I’ve seen many times before from other survivors. They stare. They’re afraid to get too close. Then they accuse me of being infected when I’m not, even when I explain it was a dreg who did it, not a rotter.”
“Really?”
“Turns out the enemy of your enemy isn’t always your friend.”
“Is that why you don’t want to be around other people?”
“You think I don’t want to be around other people?” She nods and I sigh. “I want to be part of a survivor group more than you can understand. I want that feeling of safety, of belonging, for my friends even more than for myself. To not fend for our lives every single second of every day and night, and to know that we’re not alone in this godforsaken world. But the couple of colonies we’ve found didn’t want us. One thought I was too broken to survive with, and the other thought I would bring their deaths because I survived a knife to the face and scared their children. I wish more than anything that I wasn’t the reason those two aren’t part of a safer group.”
She caresses my cheek. “I don’t think there’s anywhere safer they could be than with you. Nobody cares about their lives or well-being more than you do, and I believe they would choose you over a group of strangers any day. Besides, not every colony is as great as it’s cracked up to be. Some can make you feel more lonely than if you were on your own.”
She sounds convinced. I know she’s only trying to be nice, and I appreciate the sentiment, even if she’s wrong. Still, it makes me wonder what she went through to believe something like that. How lonely she must have felt herself.
“Does it hurt?”
I breathe out a laugh. “Only when someone brings it up and reminds me about how hideous it is.”
“Well, I think it’s beautiful.”
Not as beautiful as you, I want to say, but I don’t. Instead, I watch her. I study every inch of her face as though it’s the last thing I’ll ever see, and I realize I am insanely jealous of whatever is growing between her and Max. At first, I thought Max was only being himself. I never expected her to get to him, but she has, and she doesn’t even realize that he’s not the only one.
As I lie here, watching her touch my face and telling me how beautiful my worst traits are, I can’t help but wonder if something could grow between us as well, if given the chance.
Too bad we’ll never get a chance to find out.
I awake to whimpering sounds. My eyes pop open and I have my knife in my hand before I realize they’re coming from inside the tent, and I remember I’m not alone. I put down the knife and move closer.
Buddy is lying over Emily’s feet and gives a little whine when I nudge him on accident. He’s trying to calm her, too. Is there something seriously wrong with her? Is she hurt?
Scenarios fly through my head, each one worse than the last. I face the woman in question, but through the faint glow of the fire from outside, all I can make out is her back. I think she might even be curled into a ball. Maybe she’s cold. I’ll give her my half of the blanket, too, if she needs it.
“Emily,” I whisper, but she only whimpers in response.
Is she too hurt to tell me she’s hurt?
“Emily.”
More whimpers. My concern skyrockets.
Reaching out, I touch her back. It’s damp. She’s sweating through the hoodie. I lay my palm flat against the middle of her back and the whimpers lessen. Hmm.
I scoot closer to her and wrap my arms around her body. The whimpers stop, but her hand clenches into a fist so tight that I’m surprised her nails haven’t punctured the soft skin of her palm yet. Concern turns to anger when I wonder what has her so worked up. This has to be some kind of nightmare, but still. A nightmare isn’t something I can protect her from.
Or maybe I can.
I hold on to her as tight as I can without hurting her, and bring my mouth close to her ear. “I’ve got you, Emily. You’re safe.” I whisper the words in her ear on repeat until her body loosens and her breath evens out. “Safe.”
After a few more minutes, she’s sleeping again. I don’t want to move in case the nightmare comes back, so I stay like this, with my body wrapped around hers and her sleeping in my arms. It’s a strange feeling, someone feeling safe enough to sleep wrapped up in my arms like this.
Pushing that thought aside, I focus on her. I want to know what happened. Need to know. Especially since some things I thought I heard her whimper were concerning. I don’t know who Richard is, but if he’s the one who hurt her, then I want to hurt him. If he’s someone she wants to see again, then I still want to hurt him.
But for now, I’m content to hold her, to feel her soft body against my hard one. And her curves, oh my, her curves, they fit perfectly against me. Oh no, think about puppies, war, famine. Okay, that’s better.
I brush hair out of her face again—it’s always falling in her face—and place a gentle kiss on the side of her neck. She lets out a hum of pleasure.
“That’s right, princess. I’ve got you.” Holding her tight, I bury my face in her hair and fall asleep, surrounded by her scent. I wonder where she found strawberry shampoo.
14
