Page 12

He’s waved into a supply closet by a man with a cane who’s gotta be pushing one hundred.

Reluctantly, Cole follows. Can’t ignore him. Whatever’s going on might be important.

It could be a secret exit in case things get rough.

Or extra supplies for the baby.

Perhaps more information on rumored safe zones because everyone knows nursing homes are cesspools for gossip.

Instead, Cole’s staring at a shiny, half-used box of condoms. His mouth drops open as he squints in confusion. “That’s not…I don’t need…what the hell, man?”

“For you and your wife. Gotta be careful. You’ll knock her up again right away if you go at it without a rubber after a baby.” The man shoves the box into Cole’s hands with a wink. “Trust me. I ended up with baby number three that way when I was in your shoes.”

“Why do you even have rubbers in here? Not worried about babies anymore, are you?”

“No, no, it’s not the kids that’ll get you at my age, son. It’s the syphilis. The clap. Everything else. No one wants to spend their golden years itching or struggling to take a piss.”

Well, damn. Gossip isn’t the only thing spreading like wildfire in here. “Thanks, but no thanks. Sounds like you need them more than me.”

This is way more information than Cole signed up for and he has zero use for condoms. The odds of getting laid are so slim they’ve gone into the negatives.

Even if the Jason and baby factor were both a non-issue, he’s pretty sure Olivia wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole, especially after he tripped over himself to get away from her when she tried to give him a blowjob.

They are only friends, and even that’s brand new.

She doesn’t want him. She just had a baby. Sex isn’t on her to-do list.

He won’t risk fucking up the tentative trust they’ve built. Certainly not now, and not any time in the future, either.

“Don’t be silly. We’ve got plenty. There’s a whole stack behind the paper towels. Take them, take them. You’ll be happy you did later.”

He doesn’t have a chance to protest further before his gift giver shuffles out, after fondly tapping Cole’s shoulder with a closed fist. Now he’s standing in a supply closet with half a box of condoms. He should shove it back on the shelf and leave well enough alone.

Last thing he needs is for Olivia to find them and assume the worst.

What he does next he can’t even explain to himself, so he doesn’t bother trying.

His hands act on their own, grabbing two foil wrappers out of the box to hide in his pocket and leaving the rest behind.

He doesn’t need them. He will never need them.

That’s a fact no matter which way he slices it, but it’ll get harder and harder to find things like this out in the world the longer this pandemic goes on.

People like to fuck before they die and some of them are practical about it even then.

So, he keeps these two rubbers that he absolutely won’t need and tells himself he can always dump them later. What’s the harm if they burn a hole in his pocket?

They have plenty of other uses, like carrying water and making a slingshot. He could wrap one over a wound or use it as fire kindling. He could even trade them to other people for supplies.

Keeping them doesn’t mean he’s looking for sex.

It’s rude to turn down a gift. The old man was only trying to help, so Cole will respect his elders and keep these condoms because that’s what a decent guy would do.

He shoves them so deep in his pocket he’s in danger of ripping the stitching, flings open the door, and nearly runs smack into Olivia with Lucy in her arms as she rounds a corner.

He springs away like she’s made of molten lava, his face burning as red, and words stuttering like she caught him jerking off. “Dammit, shit, almost knocked you clean over.”

She stares while he flounders, running a nervous hand through his hair and shifting on the balls of his feet. “Are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be? Fine. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

She tilts her head, trying to puzzle out why he’s acting weird as hell. “Any time someone says fine more than once, it’s never fine.”

Get it together, he tells himself. It’s not like she has any idea that he’s got two ribbed and extra lubricated condoms in his pocket that he kept on the off chance she may want to sleep with him one day in the very, very distant future.

Because that’s not why he kept them. Not at all.

“Looking for more towels for the baby,” he covers. “You good? Need something?”

“You didn’t find any?”

“Hmm?”

“Towels?”

“Oh, nope. Not in there.”

She nods, watching him with narrow-eyed suspicion. “Okay. Dinner’s ready, mac and cheese tonight.”

She’s been helping out in the kitchen since mixing food and putting it on plates isn’t labor intensive.

He wants to be useful too, but isn’t much good at anything around here aside from pointing a gun when needed.

There’s been no sign of any other challengers, but supplies are dwindling and another group is becoming a secondary worry.

He follows her back to their room where hot food awaits and ruins it by plowing right into a subject he’s been trying to avoid. “Need to talk about what happens after this. When we leave. Where we go.”

Her face falls, and so does his gut. There are moments when he thought she’d be eager to stay with him and others when he’s not so sure.

“It feels wrong to leave these people,” she says, softly. “The longer we stay, the more guilty I feel.”

“I know. I wish we could hang around here and do our best to keep this place afloat, but finding supplies in the city is already rough. We don’t need to get stuck in a wasteland.”

“So we leave the residents here to get stuck while we push on?”

“They got others to try for them. This isn’t on us.” He feels like a jerk to say it out loud, but what’s best for her and Lucy takes priority.

“You’re right. I just didn’t think I’d feel as bad about it as I do.”

“Not trying to force you to leave if you don’t want to. If you ah…you know, if you’d rather stay here, maybe I can stick around a bit longer and make sure you’re settled.”

Her deep, horrified frown proves he’s only fucking this up. Trying to make her understand it’s her choice how this goes and she’s not stuck with him, but it only came out sounding like he wants to ditch her. He might stay too and starve with the rest if she refused to leave.

“I want to stay with you,” she replies, the sadness in her words stinging some cold part of his heart that she’s begun to thaw.

“Alright. I’m only making it clear that you aren’t saddled with me and my shit plans.”

That eases some of the hurt he saw a moment ago and her next reply is a lot more teasing and far less tinted with fear of betrayal. “ Our shit plans. We’re doing this together. Good or bad. That’s how a fake marriage works, and I’m not asking for a divorce yet.”

He ducks his head, hiding an amused half-smile. “Okay then. What do you think about Waylon’s Smithsonian idea?”

They’ve been mulling over it for the last couple of days. Rumors say this place is free of corpses and stocked with emergency supplies.

‘I dunno, man, I fucking forgot, okay? I was in a bad way when I got here. My brain’s just starting to feel normal again now.

’ Waylon claimed, when they asked why he never said anything before.

‘They ain’t storing Ativan or morphine in there next to the giant dino statues, so I didn’t give it much thought. ’

“If it’s still standing and there’s help there, then that has to be the safest spot in the state,” she replies .

“Yeah, or a trap.”

“Or that. Only one way to find out.”

He sighs in resignation. “It’s not too far, but we’d have to drive for sure. We can’t walk there.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. If you’re up for it? If not, you gotta say. Want you to be feeling your best before we head off again.”

She’s looked better than ever these past few days. Got plenty of sleep, quick with a smile and steady on her feet. Even the hollows in her cheeks are filling out, but it’s all precarious and if he pushes her too fast, it won’t end well.

“I can do it. I promise.” She’s confident enough that he doesn’t question it.

“Okay. Tomorrow. You, me, and the museum.”

He’d been trying to convince himself that it wouldn’t matter if the allure of this place took her from him. She was never his to begin with, but knowing she’s choosing to follow him is both a relief and a brand new burning anxiety. It’s the only way. Staying here means certain death.

Still, he must be smiling the barest bit around this forkful of mac and cheese because she gives him a quizzical look. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs.

She’s skeptical, their glances catching and mingling before breaking away, and her own tentative smile spreading across her lips.

She might be the first person to choose him over another option, and he’ll do his best to make sure she never regrets that.

* * *

Later, he’s in the shower thinking about their impending trip, the condoms he never should have taken, and how beautiful she looked today. All rosy cheeks and eye-squinting smiles and he’d swear her skin looks softer now that she’s not close to passing out every five seconds.

He isn’t trying to get worked up, it just happens.

He thinks of Olivia and his dick rises to attention, the shaft thickening and hardening even as he tries to ignore it.

It’s not right to think of her like this.

Not respectful. His body has other ideas that don’t cooperate with the logical side of his mind and before he knows it, he’s got a raging hard-on swaying in the air, begging for relief.