Page 41

SIX MONTHS LATER

“How far are you?” Jonah’s voice echoed through the speaker of Ruby’s phone, warm and steady.

She glanced down at the mapping app she had open, careful to keep the U-Haul from swerving into the next lane. The weight of the vehicle seemed amplified by her unease, its tires groaning against the asphalt. “Five minutes,” she said. “Just about to take the exit toward your place.”

The words sounded too light, too ordinary for what they truly meant. Jonah’s place. Soon to be their place. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel.

Six months had passed since she had killed Edward.

She had expected to feel relieved, free to move on with her life.

And she had. Mostly. She and Jonah were happy—truly, stupidly happy in ways that both comforted and unnerved her.

They talked. A lot. To each other. To a therapist assigned by the TCA.

To a couples’ counselor they found on the internet.

They went on dates, simple and wonderful. Ruby discovered she loved hockey—the cold, the roar of the crowd, the electricity in the air. Slowly, Jonah’s apartment had become her home. Her toothbrush sat next to his in the bathroom. Her books had colonized a corner of his shelves.

Jonah had been reinstated by the TCA, and they were partners again.

The Denver office, still scarred by the explosion, was being rebuilt.

They never discovered what caused the explosion or even how.

Somehow, the cameras had been shut off prior to the explosion.

Together, they tracked down thermophiles and explored new cities.

Kavya and her wife had adopted a rambunctious two-year-old with a passion for shoving bananas into video game consoles.

Ruby found herself looking forward to their chaotic family dinners.

She had agreed to mentor Ellie, the young thermophile who lost her parents, though that wouldn’t start for a few more months as the TCA detoxed her from the human phlogiston.

For the first time in years—maybe ever—she lived. She cherished the small moments, finding joy in the routine.

Late at night though, long after Jonah’s steady breathing signaled his sleep, the darkness would settle into her chest. She paced hotel hallways, wandered unfamiliar streets, and grappled with the quiet echo of Edward’s words.

“A cure.”

The idea slithered into her thoughts, uninvited and unwelcome. An end to her sleepless nights. To her infinite, endless lifetime. The chance to eat again, to age, to dream, to feel human in ways she had forgotten.

But if a cure existed, why wasn’t it known? Why wasn’t it used? And if it didn’t, why had she never heard whispers of trials or research within the TCA?

Her stomach churned with the questions as she turned into a Sinclair gas station. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, a sickly yellow glow making the shadows too sharp, the dark edges of the lot too black.

She parked by the pump and killed the engine. For a moment, she sat still, her hands slack on the steering wheel. The faint scent of gasoline wafted through the cracked window, sharp and metallic.

The last time I lived with a man … She didn’t let herself finish the thought. Decades had passed since then. A life so far removed from her now it might as well have belonged to someone else.

What if this didn’t work? What if she wasn’t good enough for Jonah? What if she didn’t deserve this? And what would she do when he inevitably—

Stop. She shook her head, trying to snap herself out of it.

She slid out of the truck, the cold air biting against her skin. The sharp crunch of her boots against the gravel followed her to the convenience store. The Icee machine caught her eye, its bright, swirling colors a flash of something comforting and distant. She used to love Icees.

Instead, she made her way to the restroom at the back of the store. The faint smell of bleach battled with something mustier in the cramped space. She splashed cold water on her face, the shock of it grounding her, and grabbed a rough paper towel from the dispenser to dab her skin.

When she looked up, her reflection stared back, pale and unfamiliar under the harsh fluorescent light.

And behind her, Edward.

Her breath caught in her throat. His face was just as it had been in the fire—twisted, burned, mocking. She flinched, her pulse hammering in her ears.

“You can’t trust them,” he whispered, smooth as oil, seeping into the cracks of her mind.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her nails digging into the sink’s edge. His image burned against the darkness behind her eyelids.

“No,” she barked, slamming her hands down.

The word broke the spell. And the sink. When she opened her eyes again, the bathroom was empty. Just her, the quiet hum of the overhead light, and the crumbling ceramic.

Her hands shook as she wiped them on her jeans and made her way back to the truck. She started the engine, its familiar rumble grounding her, and pulled out of the gas station.

The U-Haul bumped along the uneven pavement as Ruby turned onto Jonah’s street.

Her hands clammy against the steering wheel, her heart thrummed in a mix of excitement and nervousness.

She slowed as she spotted him standing in the driveway, a grin stretched wide across his face, the kind of smile that always disarmed her.

He stood there, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, rocking back on his heels. Beside him, on the cracked concrete, sat a box wrapped in paper that shimmered faintly in the sunlight, a cheerful green bow perched on top.

Ruby climbed out of the truck, her boots hitting the pavement with a satisfying thud. “What’s this?” she asked, gesturing toward the box. A grin tugged at the corner of her lips.

Jonah shrugged, his grin growing even wider. “Housewarming gift. Open it.”

She crouched down, peeling the tape off with deliberate care, and lifted the lid. Inside was a power washer, sleek and shiny. For a moment, she just stared at it, blinking in disbelief, before throwing her head back and laughing.

“A power washer?” she said, looking up at him.

“For your TikTok obsession,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

She didn’t hesitate. She jumped up and threw her arms around him, the hug nearly knocking him off balance. His laugh rumbled against her ear as he steadied them both, his arms wrapping securely around her.

BY THE TIME they’d finished unloading the truck, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting warm orange and pink streaks across the sky. Jonah leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping a beer, while Ruby surveyed the chaos of boxes and mismatched furniture that now filled his—their—living room.

“I was thinking the couch could go here,” he said, pointing toward the wall opposite the window.

Ruby frowned. “But then it blocks the light. What about over there?”

Jonah raised an eyebrow. “That’s too close to the door. It’ll feel cramped.”

“Only if you walk like a linebacker.”

The back-and-forth continued until Ruby, with a smirk, decided to end the debate by moving the couch herself. She grabbed the armrest, her muscles flexing as she lifted it and carried it effortlessly across the room. Jonah stared, his beer halfway to his mouth.

“Cheating,” he muttered.

“Winning,” she corrected, dropping the couch into place.

NIGHTS FELL INTO a rhythm. Jonah would head to bed, his footsteps soft against the carpeted hallway, while Ruby curled up on the couch with a book.

She liked how the house settled into its nighttime quiet—still, yet never lonely.

Jonah often hesitated in the doorway, his brow furrowed with a flicker of guilt.

“Are you sure you’re okay out here?” he’d ask.

Ruby would wave him off, her lips twitching into a half-smile. “Go. Sleep. I’ll be fine.”

Still, his concern lingered, even as he turned in for the night.

They spent mornings watching TV, Jonah perched on the couch with his breakfast while Ruby sat beside him, not eating but enjoying the easy rhythm of the moment. He’d glance at her occasionally, offering a bite of his meal despite knowing she’d decline.

In the evenings, she smoked in the backyard, the faint scent of her herbal cigarettes mingling with the fresh night air. Jonah joined her sometimes, leaning against the railing, and they’d talk about everything and nothing.

RUBY DISCOVERED THE joys of barbecue smoke. They were at a food truck festival when she felt it—this faint hum of energy, like a spark catching in her chest. She hadn’t realized what it was until Jonah pointed out the grill nearby, its tendrils of smoky air curling toward the sky.

“You’re kidding,” he said, watching her with wide eyes as she lingered by the truck, breathing deeply.

They found a rhythm, compromising and adjusting as their lives tangled together. Jonah gave her space, and she tried not to rearrange too many of his things. They found ways to make it work, even when it wasn’t easy.

Some mornings, they sat on the back steps, watching the sunrise paint the sky in shades of lavender and gold. Ruby leaned her head against his shoulder, the world still and perfect for just a moment.

Later, they strolled through the farmer’s market, Jonah chatting with the vendors while Ruby listened, her fingers brushing over fresh produce she didn’t eat but liked to touch.

Sometimes, she couldn’t stand him. His smug smirk drove her up the wall, his jokes pushing just the right buttons to make her blood boil. But even then, even when her frustration bubbled over, she loved him fiercely.

He was her best friend.

The one who made her stalled time move forward.

THE AIR SMELLED faintly of rain as Ruby stepped out of the car and into the grocery store. Unusually quiet for a Saturday morning, the fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the aisles. She wove through them with practiced efficiency, a gallon of milk clasped in her hand within minutes.

Jonah stayed at home, packing clothes for their next hunt. She’d finished hours ago—years of hotel living had made packing second nature—and offered to grab the milk he needed for his coffee. A simple errand, a mundane reprieve from their constant movement.

Ruby’s attention drifted to her phone as she stood in the checkout line, her thumb idly scrolling through her social media feed. A notification caught her eye—a concert clip from an artist she’d been dying to see. Her lips quirked into the faintest smile as she tapped the video.

The stage lights burst across the screen, and the artist hit the splits, earning a wince from Ruby.

She let the video play, her eyes wandering to the sea of blurry figures in the crowd as the camera flipped to the person recording.

They were singing along, their voices blending with the muffled audio.

But then she froze.

A face. Familiar.

Her breath hitched as her grip on the milk tightened. She rewound the video, pausing it with a flick of her finger, and then zoomed in.

No.

It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. They should be dead. No one lived once the TCA got their hands on them.

She rolled her shoulders back and looked away, deliberately fixing her gaze on a garish poster tacked above a market stall. She exhaled sharply, willing her mind to settle. Perhaps a trick of the light. A misinterpretation.

But when she glanced back, nothing had changed. The screen still showed the concert-goer, clear as day.

Her pulse quickened as she captured a screenshot, zooming in further. She examined the contours of the face, the curve of the mouth, the tilt of the head.

“Next in line.”

The prompt startled her, and she looked up at the cashier. She shook her head, her thoughts spinning.

“Ma’am?”

Ruby swallowed hard, forcing herself to place the milk on the counter. Her hand trembled as she slid it forward.

And then, without another word, she turned and ran.