Page 4

FOUR

KENJI

I’LL FOLLOW YOU ANYWHERE

Day 453

I follow silently behind Farron, her hand gripping mine with a surprising firmness. The contact feels charged, like a current of electricity running through my skin, leaving a buzz I can’t ignore. It hits me—this is the first time we’ve truly touched or had any physical contact outside of the night Mr. Abel died outside of the night Mr. Abel died. The thought sticks with me, heavy and warm.

The bitter winter breeze cuts into my cheeks and clears my mind. Anger still simmers beneath the surface, but it’s overshadowed by something deeper. It’s obvious to me how much this whole ordeal is weighing on Farron. When Adrian found us and I saw the panic in his eyes and heard about how she rode off on EJ, my heart seized. The fear hit me like a punch to the gut, and my thoughts began to spiral. What if I never saw her again? What if I never had the chance to verbally spar with her or catch her staring at me when she thought I wouldn’t notice? Those fears still linger now, twisting in my chest.

The wind bites harder as we make our way back to her office. I can’t help but take her in: the black corduroy jacket lined with fleece, her jeans hugging her in all the right places, tucked into those red cowboy boots that Adrian never shuts up about. She looks the same as always—absolutely stunning, even covered in blood and gore—but after thinking we lost her, it feels even more impossible to tear my eyes away. The memory of her scream haunts me even now, the sound cutting through the silence of the town. Worst-case scenarios swarmed my mind. Specifically, one of Farron bitten, her time slipping away like sand through my fingers.

We reach the back of the house, and the door creaks open as we step inside, making our way to her office. Warmth greets us, along with Magnum’s eager little tail wagging, his yips breaking the silence between the two of us. I crouch to pet him, and my mind drifts back to the first day we arrived here at Rolling Hills. Months ago, life was an endless loop of moving from place to place, sleeping on the ground, and always watching my brothers’ backs. Now, for the first time in more than a year, we’re safe. Somehow, I’ve even found friends here, especially in Jay.

And with Farron, it feels like everything is shifting. I want her in any way I can have her, and there’s no use in denying it any longer. I want to be angry with her after this morning, but I know she's going to have a hard enough time with Theo and Adrian. I don't have it in me to fight with her over this anymore. Not when I could have lost her before I even fucking had her.

I let out a breath, rub Magnum’s chin one last time, and move to sit on that exam table. Farron peels off her jacket, which sticks to her plain black long-sleeved shirt, which is stained with blood and grime and clings to her like a second skin. She hasn’t said a word since we left the barn, the quiet pressing in on me. But my urge to ease the tension is nothing compared to my stubbornness, refusing to let me break the silence first.

Farron moves to my side, her hands tentative as she moves to lift my shirt, silently asking permission. I nod, and she carefully draws it over my head, her movements careful so she doesn’t disturb my injury more than she has to with how sticky the material is against me. Once it’s off, her fingers press into my shoulder before trailing further down my arm to check for other injuries. Her fingers are still cold from the outdoors, and the cool touch against the heat of my own skin sends shivers down the length of my spine.

“Nothing’s broken,” I murmur, my voice soft, finally breaking the silence between us.

Her hands still for a moment before she nods, her gaze falling to the floor. Standing this close, she’s at eye level with me, and it seems she’s uncomfortable with that. “No,” she replies, her voice barely audible. She clears her throat before she speaks again. “Doesn’t look like anything’s broken, just dislocated.”

I tilt my head, trying to catch her gaze. She’s running away again, hiding from me because of those nasty little fears that never seem to leave her alone. “Why won’t you look at me?” My voice is a whisper, but it feels like it cuts through the room.

She freezes, pulling her hands away from me as if burned before turning her back to me. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say to you,” she says, her voice breaking. “I fucked up. I put you all in danger.”

“Baby,” I plead, the word slipping out before I can swallow it back down. “Please, look at me.”

She turns at that, her eyes widening briefly before narrowing into a scowl. “Don’t, Kenji,” she snaps. “You’re the one who’s not supposed to be nice to me all the time. You’re the one who should be reminding me just how badly I messed up! I’m messed up. I really thought Holden was out there. I didn’t even think to ask for help…”

Her words hit like a blow, showing me just how guilty she feels. She’s going to be far harder on herself about this than I could ever be. So I don’t back down. “Yeah, you did mess up. Yeah, you should have asked for help,” I tell her. Her eyes drift away from me again as if she can’t bear to look at me. “But…but if I thought Adrian or Theo—or you—were out there, I wouldn’t hesitate either. I’d leave everything behind to bring you back.” The words settle between us as her breath hitches. Her eyes meet mine, wide, as if she’s trying to gauge if I mean it.

I do.

For her, I think I’d walk through fire.

She nods as her eyes start to burn as they well up, and her nose instantly turns pink while her mouth presses into a firm line as she tries to keep the tears at bay. But within seconds, the dam breaks, sobs wracking her. Unable to stand her tears and the pain in her expression, I pull her to me with my good arm, lifting her even as she protests. “Kenji, your arm?—”

“I don’t care,” I murmur, holding her closer. Her legs settle on either side of me, her forehead pressing against mine as I take a moment to just breathe her in. This, her in my arms, feels like home. She fits perfectly against me as if she was always meant to be here, her hand resting against my chest while the other threads through my hair. That scream replays in my head again, and I pull her tighter against me. My fingers brush her back, soothing her as the world outside fades into nothing.

When her sobs subside, she leans back slightly, her face still damp with tears. She goes to move, but I hold her in place before reaching over with my good arm to grab the tissues that are on the small table near us and hand her some. She’s embarrassed as she cleans up a little, and my lips quirk into a wry smile because both of us are still covered in zombie guts, but her runny nose is what she’s worried about.

I reach for the package of moist towels that’s on the same table and carefully start to clean off her hands and then her neck of blood and grime. My fingers grip her chin as I gently rub the towel down her temples, over the bridge of her nose, and over the swell of her lips. Her mouth drops open as a soft exhale leaves her, and she reaches down to grab a towel and do the same for me. She takes her time on my hands, getting all the dried blood between my fingers. She moves slowly to my face and repeats the motions I did on her.

When she’s done, her eyes meet mine—searching, unsure. I lift my hand to brush a stray curl from her face, and she leans into my touch. The moment stretches between us, and then, slowly, she leans forward. Her lips brush against mine, tentative and feather-light. A tremor runs through me. I’m kissing her back before my mind can even catch up to what’s happening.

Her lips are soft and achingly sweet, and the kiss is unhurried at first. But then she deepens it, and my restraint shatters. When her tongue flicks against the seam of my lips, I open for her without hesitation, pulling her closer. Needing her closer. Her taste is intoxicating, and when she nips at my bottom lip, I can’t help the low growl that rumbles deep in my chest.

My hand slides into her hair, tangling in the wild and knotted strands as I tilt her head back, exposing the delicate line of her throat. My lips leave hers to trail along her cheek, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and to her neck. I can’t resist biting gently at the soft skin, and her breath hitches, followed by a low moan. The sound ignites something primal in me, and I tighten my hold on her hair, my lips returning to claim hers again, swallowing every delicious sound she makes.

Her right-hand clutches at my chest, her fingers curling against the fabric of my shirt, while her other hand threads into my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan against her mouth. She kisses me like she’s trying to memorize every detail, like she’s pouring every unspoken word into this moment, and I let her, returning every ounce of it with all I have.

I’m lost in her—her warmth, her taste, the way she fits against me. It feels like coming home, like finding something I didn't even know I'd been searching for. I know I’ve been a fucking idiot. Because this? This feels so fucking right. I can’t believe I’ve been blind to it for so long.

Time becomes meaningless—whether it’s minutes or hours, I don’t know. I’m not sure there is any measure of time that would be enough for this moment and the way she feels against me. But eventually, she pulls away, giving me one last peck against my lips. I grin at her, unable to help myself and press a kiss against her forehead. Her eyes are the brightest green I’ve ever seen, and her lips are red and swollen from our kiss. But it’s when she gives me a soft smile that I lose myself, thinking I’ve never seen her look quite this beautiful.

With a shake of her head as though to clear it, she leaves my arms, getting back to her feet. “I should finish checking your arm. I’m sure the guys want to check on you, too,” she says softly, her voice thick.

“Right.” I reach down with my good arm to adjust myself as she turns away to grab the supplies she needs. She’s stiff as a board as she’s explaining the next steps—painkillers, ice, a sling for a few weeks—but I barely hear her. Instead, I’m focused on the sudden change in her demeanor, and I know it’s because she’s worried about the guys. Before she can retreat further, I reach for her wrist, gently pulling her to face me.

“They aren’t angry,” I say, offering a small, tired smile. “Okay, maybe a little. But mostly? They were scared. We all were.”

She gently pulls her wrist out of my grasp and takes a few deep breaths, her eyes honed in on my hurt shoulder. “I don’t blame them,” she whispers. “But I don’t know how to fix this. When will my fear for Holden stop controlling my every move?” She takes another deep breath, clearly trying to stop a fresh wave of tears, before speaking. “I just miss him so much. I don’t want to accept that he’s gone forever, even if it’s been months, and I know he probably is. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to come back.”

“Hey,” I snap, grabbing her fingers to tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “You know that’s not true. If he’s out there, Princess, he’ll come back. He wouldn’t leave you behind. If he’s anything like you, nothing could stop him from getting back here to you and his family.”

She grimaces at my words as if she doesn’t believe me or doesn’t dare to. Her voice sounds strangled when she speaks again as if each word is breaking her to say aloud. “And how long do I keep hoping?”

“As long as you can,” I reply gently. “But don’t let it stop you from living. Don’t let it stop you from seeing what’s still here.”

Hope is a dangerous thing. I know it like an old friend—hope that my mom would beat cancer, hope that Adrian would find his family. But even at the end of the world, hope is all we have. And I’ll keep hoping for Farron, even if it hurts. But I won’t let her stay frozen in time because he’s gone.

“I just…” she starts, but immediately trails off again like she’s struggling to find the right words. “I just wish I could turn my brain off sometimes,” she admits softly. “Sometimes, when I get stressed out, it feels like my thoughts go wild, completely off the rails, and I don’t know how to rein them back in. I wish I could just shut it down for a bit and not have to worry about everything.”

I hum quietly in response, my eyes on her as she fidgets and stays steadfast in her goal of avoiding eye contact with me right now. “Farron,” I reach up to grip her chin and bring her focus to me. “You’re always putting too much on yourself. You don’t have to do it all alone anymore. If you just trust in us, we’ll show you that.”

She reaches up to squeeze my wrist lightly, and I watch as a determined gleam comes across her eyes. She leans forward to give me a soft kiss on the lips before gently tugging me up and towards the door. “I think we both need to shower and clean up a little and then go find the others.”

“Lead the way, baby.”

Because wherever she goes, I’ll follow.