Page 18

Olivia feels the misery coming off him in waves and every bump in the road is a fresh reminder. The slash in Cole’s shirt is clear, and blood stains through the makeshift bandage, though she hasn’t seen the severity of his injuries yet.

It’s hard to reach the middle of the back alone. She’s tried and failed herself more than once.

He could get an infection if it’s not cleaned.

If the wound is deep enough to require stitches, it won’t heal properly without them.

She could help, but he won’t let her, so she keeps her mouth shut and doesn’t ask again.

Yet. Instead, she points her attention at the low, soft song, courtesy of another CD, and how cute Lucy is snuggled against him in that sling.

It may not be the best time to let her mind run wild, but the sight of him with the baby, so natural and easy, is doing things to her, despite her denial.

When they hit an unavoidable pothole, the cat sleeping on the dashboard bounces. Cole curses and pulls Lucy closer, pressing his shoulder into the door and temple against the glass.

“Sorry. The roads are all bad out here.”

“It’s fine,” he grumbles.

“Take some Tylenol or Advil? There’s plenty left. ”

To her surprise, he doesn’t snap or ignore her efforts, but swallows two pills like candy.

That’s how she knows it’s bad. He’d refuse if he could, no matter how hard she pushed, but this time it took no coaxing.

When the burn gets worse, he might rethink refusing another set of hands.

She’ll offer again once he calms down, and the medication takes effect.

A plume of smoke from the car hood abruptly halts their progress, stalling the engine and leaving them stranded in the middle of an empty, tree-lined street.

“Fuck,” she whispers.

He groans. “It’s always something.”

Exiting the car, they both gape at the problem. Cole, without thinking, pops the hood, earning a cloud to the face. He coughs and sputters and so does the baby in the sling who’s erupted into a fit of dismayed screaming.

“I’m sorry. Come on, it’s alright. You’re good. You’re good. ” He’s panicked, looking to her for direction while rocking a disgruntled Lucy. “I got a bunch of smoke in her face. Shit, I didn’t mean to.”

“It was an accident. She doesn’t know that yet, but I do. She’ll be fine.”

Olivia’s not happy that her newborn inhaled car fumes, but it’s over now and Cole already feels awful. He unstraps the sling and returns the child to her as if he’d committed an intentional sin.

He’s already in a bad place, and this makes things worse.

The baby is still screaming, Cole’s still bleeding, Flower is hanging from the sunroof by one paw, and the car is smoking out its last breath.

They’re caught in a clusterfuck and the grumble of rotters emerging from the trees leaves them no choice but to abandon their only ride .

Cole grabs their bags from the back, pops the trunk, and snatches out another that the care home nurse stashed there.

Then they’re rushing onto a separate side road, putting distance between them and the herd.

It’s not difficult to get away, their enemies are slow and stupid, and breaking line of sight is most of the battle.

Lucy continues to wail, though, and others are sure to follow.

“Over there, see it?” He points to a small, crumbling house peeking out from overgrowth and she follows his lead to the front door where he busts open a window and grants them entry.

It’s an older home, maybe a summer cottage, she thinks as they clear the rooms one by one.

Dust coats the furniture and shimmers across beams of sunlight.

If anything in here wanted to hurt them, it would have come rushing out by now, but she stays plastered to Cole, a baby in one arm and a cat on her shoulder, as they methodically check anyway.

In the end, they’re gifted good news when it’s confirmed deserted. Desperately, she settles on a worn sofa once it’s safe and offers Lucy the only thing that’ll earn her silence. A meal.

Cole busies himself shutting all the curtains, checking locks, and raiding the pantry. He’s got a table full of canned goods when she finds him later in the kitchen, staring out the window toward a withered, sun-drenched garden.

“I think there are tomato plants out there, and that big tree in the back will be full of walnuts in the summer,” he says.

“We scored. Those are my favorite nut.”

He shakes his head. “Is that right?”

“Yep.” There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere, and she purses her lips in a tease before changing the subject. “Did you see the playpen? They had children here. ”

“Lucy can use that?”

“Not yet, but eventually.”

“I’m really sorry,” he says. “I gave your baby a whole lungful of smoke. Dunno, what I was thinking.”

“Cole, she’s okay. It was two seconds before you moved away. She’s not holding any grudges.”

He nods, but remains unconvinced.

“Will you take her a while? I’m gonna get started on one of these.” She unceremoniously hands over the baby, proving she still trusts him when he’s having a hard time trusting himself. “You hungry? We’ve got plenty of canned ravioli from the looks of it and…six cans of cat food.”

He sighs, sitting at the table while she searches for a can opener. “I could eat.”

“This is a nice place. Maybe we can rest here a while.”

“Mhmm. Couple days if we’re lucky.”

She expected more push back, but he’s as eager for some downtime as she is.

They make it through half their meal before he forgets to keep pressure off his back and leans against the chair, gasping in regret at his mistake. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

She hasn’t asked yet, but he’s already cutting off her concern. “You should let me take a look at it. If it needs stitches, I know how. We’ve got the supplies. Once it begins scabbing over, it’s too late.”

“How’d you get this skill? First aid classes?”

“YouTube. It’s the kinda thing you need to know when going to the ER too often makes people ask questions.”

She’s stitched herself up more than once.

Jason even bought her the supplies, delivered directly to their door in a happy little box.

A deep cut above her brow, a slice across her hip, and an open wound in the meat of her thigh all could have used a doctor’s skill. That luxury wasn’t worth the risk.

For a moment, she thinks Cole might agree and has to keep herself from leaning forward in anticipation, but that flicker of acceptance quickly fades.

“Don’t think it needs ‘em.” Is all he says, shoveling food into his mouth while she rocks Lucy.

“Okay.”

She’s walking a thin line already. Surprised he hasn’t bolted clear across the house the moment she brought it up. If she tries again, he might. It’s better to pick her battles than risk crumbling the tentative trust they’ve pieced together.

“Did you see what I found in the corner?” He points to a large bow propped against the wall, hefty enough to take down a deer and then some.

Her eyes light up and a smile blooms fast. “You can use that?”

“Hell yeah. We’ll be eating good soon. There are plenty of woods around here. Should be easy pickings.”

“This is a windfall,” she says, wistfully. “Maybe we were meant to find this place. Look at all it has to offer already.”

“Dunno if I believe in all that fate and ‘meant to be’ stuff, but I’ll take this bit of luck.”

He might not believe it, and she has her own moments of doubt, but the longer she spends with him, the more she thinks they were placed on this path together for a reason. That isn’t something she’ll voice, though. Not a chance.

They finish eating in comfortable silence and spend the afternoon in an arrow crafting lesson.

Plenty of branches to pick from in the yard and he’s a good teacher.

Her first arrow is a little lopsided but usable and he high-fives her as if she did something amazing.

Olivia soaks up the positive reinforcement like a dry sponge.

Having someone root for her success instead of cheering on her failure is a welcome contrast from what she’s used to.

Tells herself she’s not trying to impress him, but that’s a lie, at least on some buried level she doesn’t want to acknowledge yet.

“I didn’t know the army taught DIY arrow crafting.” She smiles.

Cole shrugs. “They don’t. One of my foster sisters taught me back in the day. Her father taught her before he…”

She squints. “Before he what?”

“Depression made him eat a bullet, and he was the only family she had.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He holds an arrow up to the sunlight, checking the smoothness of the point. “No shortage of horror stories back then. We all had one. I only spent one summer with her and then she was off to some other house.”

“Can I um, and you can ignore me, or refuse to answer, or anything else. No pressure, but—”

“You wanna know how I ended up in the system?” He finishes for her.

Olivia nods.

“Never knew my real parents. They left me on the steps of a church when I was a few days old and that’s all the story I’ve ever gotten.

” His gaze lands on a sleeping Lucy swaddled on the sofa.

“I never understood it then and I still don’t now, but it is what it is.

People leave, that’s how the world works. Even more so now.”

She wonders if this obvious sense of deep-rooted abandonment is part of the reason he refuses to abandon her and the baby. There’s an odd feeling simmering in her chest, squeezing her heart. It begs her to offer him some security, no matter how ridiculous that might be.

“Not everyone leaves,” she replies gently, before her tone turns teasing, always wary of toeing the line. “I mean, you’re certainly never getting rid of me. Apocalypse tour guide and now free arts and craft classes? You know how to woo a girl.”

He snorts, ducking his head. “It was the arrow whittling that hooked you, huh?”

“Oh yeah, big time. You’re stuck with me now.”