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With a quick breath, Rhiannon turned and made her way toward Dean. On her way, she stopped to take a lollipop from Brooke. Her tennis shoes crunched over the debris strewn across the floor as she navigated through the maze of upturned clothing racks and broken souvenirs. The air over here was stale and thick with dust.
He was sitting on a stack of camping mattresses, slumped against the wall, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. As she approached, he glanced up from the half-empty bottle of rum cradled in his hands.
She held out the lollipop in a peace offering.
He didn’t move to take it. Resentment blazed in his eyes.
“Come on, Dean. It’s not poison.”
“I’m not in the mood for fucking candy.” His words came out slurred; he was already drunk.
“All right.” So much for the gentle approach. She held out her free hand. “Give me the bottle.”
His lips curled into a smirk. “Why should I? I found it.”
“You stole it.”
He swept the bottle in a wide arc. “We’re all stealing.”
Rhiannon knew his hostility wasn’t entirely his fault. The withdrawal symptoms were taking their toll, making him even more irritable than usual, and he probably thought the alcohol would take the edge off. But her patience was running thin. They all had their demons to deal with. Dean wasn’t the only one suffering.
“You’re going to dehydrate yourself.” She placed the lollipop on a shelf next to him, then went to grab a bottle of water. She returned and set it next to the candy. “Drink that.”
As she turned away to go back to the group, he grumbled, “Why do you care?”
She paused and glanced back at him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Why are you handing out candy, playing nanny to the deaf kid, pretending to give a damn about any of us? What’s your endgame?”
“I don’t have an endgame.”
“Everyone has an endgame, sweetheart. You’re no exception.”
Wow. He sounded… like Pierce.
She turned back to face Dean fully, planting her hands on her hips. “Fine, you want to know my endgame? It’s simple: to keep us alive and get us out of here. I’m not asking for you to trust me, but working against me won’t help anyone.”
Dean just looked at her, his stare filled with hostility. But beneath the hostility, she saw something else. Fear? Frustration? Loneliness? She wasn’t sure.
He sneered and gestured vaguely at the others. “Why waste time caring about these people? They’ll stab you in the back the first chance they get.”
Okay, she really didn’t like how little faith everyone had in each other. First, Dottie warned her away from Pierce, and now Dean’s bitter cynicism painted the group as a den of vipers, ready to strike at the first sign of weakness.
Well, they were both wrong.
She refused to believe that they couldn’t depend on each other. They were stronger together, and she was determined to prove it. “I choose to have faith in people. You should try it.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, she walked away from the camping section.
Back at Michael’s side, her spirits lifted again when he gave her a shy grin with the lollipop stick jutting from the corner of his mouth. She ruffled his hair affectionately before helping Dottie set up their sleeping arrangements. Then, she busied herself with passing out their first rations for dinner. They were eating the food from the coolers first—premade sandwiches, salads, and wraps—the stuff that wouldn’t be edible when their ice melted.
Halfway through passing out dinner, she noticed Pierce return to the group. Of course she noticed him. She was aware of him even when she tried not to be.
He took up a sentinel position near the entrance of the store. His body was tense, his gaze moving ceaselessly as he studied the surroundings. He was staying on guard while everyone else ate, but he seemed more distracted than before, and she could feel his stare on her more often than not. She refused to give in to the temptation of looking his way… but eventually, she couldn’t resist any longer and turned her head to catch his eye.
For a moment, they stared at each other in silence, the world around them dissolving into nothingness. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, their wings fluttering frantically against her ribcage, and she was sure her cheeks were flushed.
Dammit, why did he affect her like this?
