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“Do you think you could teach me someday?”
His smile grows wider than I’ve ever seen it, and all the tension seems to leave his body. “Absolutely. Whenever you’re ready.”
Looping my hands around his arm, I lean my head on his shoulder and he gets back to playing another song after dropping a kiss on my forehead. Even a bird somewhere in a nearby tree sings along, making me smile. I close my eyes and listen.
That’s disgusting.
I scrunch my nose in disgust and look away. Max laughs. “Well, don’t think we need to worry about feeding Buddy. He’s doing better than all of us.”
Max bends down until he’s sitting on his heels and gives Buddy a rewarding pat on the head while he’s licking every morsel from his mouth. “Well, at least we know animals can’t get infected.”
I sigh and look at the dead squirrel before averting my gaze again. “Yeah, but can they spread the virus?”
Max lets out a laugh. “Doubt it. Buddy Boy here has been licking my face every chance he gets. If he could carry the virus, I’d be a rotting corpse by now.”
“That’s not funny,” I scold.
William appears behind us with some gloves. “Aw man. Did he already eat it? I was getting ready to prepare it and put it over the fire.”
Max stands and claps his hand on William’s shoulder. “No need. That dog is doing better at this apocalypse life than we are. We should take notes.”
The bandage on William’s arm catches my eye. “I need to change your dressing, anyway. I’ll go find Griffin and then meet back at the general store.”
“You’re going to leave Buddy’s dinner table before he’s finished?” Max asks with a faux crestfallen look.
“Yes. Feel free to join him, though, Mr. I Like Getting Licked By A Dog With Rotter Breath.” I push past him and head back to where I hope Griffin is. None of us has strayed away from the town yet, but it makes me nervous. Things are getting too comfortable here. Too safe. It feels too much like back home, minus the security wall with the patrol and more people bustling around, going about their daily tasks.
Reaching the general store, I pause outside the door and bend down to inspect the pot of lavender roses with a smile. They look freshly watered. They seem to thrive in the pot Griffin found. It’s the perfect size for them, too.
This is the last thing I expected from that man. I never would have guessed he’d have a side with kindness. He must keep it hidden deep down. Really deep down.
Standing, I push open the door to the general store where I hope to find Griffin, and I’m right. He’s sitting on the counter focusing on something in his hands, but when he looks up and spots me walking toward him, he quickly moves to hide whatever it is he’s working on. I should be suspicious. Normally, I would be. But I’m surprised to find that I’m not. “I need to check your stitches.”
He opens his knees and draws me in between them, pulling my hands to rest on his thighs while I look up at him. My fingers brush against the bare skin of his thigh through the ripped shorts to his stab wound. The bandage that was there is gone and all I can feel is scar tissue. “I haven’t opened them again.”
“That’s great, but I still need to check them out.”
“Is this a ploy to get my shirt off?”
My face scrunches up for the second time in about five minutes. “Well, yeah, how else am I supposed to see how it’s healing?” These guys can be so confusing.
His head tilts to the side and a small grin plays on his lips before the door opens again and draws his gaze over my head to someone standing behind me. “Did you fuck up your stitches?” William asks.
Griffin’s light-hearted demeanor disappears, and he frowns, his hands squeezing mine. “I absolutely did not. I wish everyone would stop assuming that.”
I pull away and motion to the couch. “Sit down and take off your shirt.” They both take off their shirts, revealing toned, muscular torsos, and heat creeps up my neck. “I meant—nevermind.”
They each take a seat on the couch, with Griffin laying over half of it, the side with the stitches facing upward. I pull out the first aid kit, get everything set up how I want it, and then face them, trying to decide which to work on first. Deciding William will be the quickest, I kneel in front of him and undo the wrap on his forearm while Griffin’s gaze bores into the side of my head, watching my every move. I try to tune it out and ignore the fact that the heat under my skin keeps getting hotter.
“You don’t need to keep tending to us like this,” William says, drawing my gaze up to meet his pale blue eyes.
“You’re hurt. And neither of you are doing anything to monitor your wounds. What would you do without me?” I regret the question as soon as I voice it. I don’t want another fight right now.
“Luckily for all of us, we don’t have to know,” Griffin says, his voice rough. Then it softens. “Thank you for your help, though. You really don’t need to.”
“Yeah, you could have let us die and run off on your own,” William adds.
“That’s not funny.”
