Page 9

We eat dinner as we walk south through the mountains. Wish we were back on flat land. However, Rex feels it’s safer going this way. But the damn rocky paths are never-ending today.

Thank fuck for the small town up ahead. The sun’s already low in the sky, and with the temperature dropping, no way I want to be sleeping outside. Plus, my legs burn something fierce from all the uphill walking.

Most of the buildings are run-down and looted, but at the end of a street is a small house with faded white paint that’s peeling off the wood siding in curling strips.

Kinda reminds me of a town not far from the shithole where I grew up.

Not that I visited often.

My father didn’t like goin’ anywhere. Didn’t stop me, though. Would cut school sometimes and walk for miles, only to hide in the park and watch the people.

Sometimes I wished I lived there . . . with a different family.

Rex grips my shoulder, steadying me when my legs buckle. “This house should do for the night. Looks secure enough.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t need your help walking.”

He quirks a brow. “Sure about that?”

I huff and head toward the house.

The musty scent of mildew wafts out of the crooked, half-closed front door. Inside, the floorboards groan under our feet. Moth-eaten curtains hang askew over cracked windows so dirty the last rays of sunlight barely penetrate. Cobwebs shroud the corners, and a fine layer of dust coats every surface.

While Rex scopes the place out, I collapse face first onto the lumpy bed in the back room, old springs creaking loudly beneath me as I groan into the limp pillow, every muscle aching.

This thing is kinda like my old mattress growing up—until my father took it away, making me sleep on the floor with nothin’ but blankets after he’d caught me touchin’ myself one day.

My dick had gotten hard. Didn’t understand why.

All I did was touch it for a second, but my father lost his shit. Choked me and I’d gotten so scared I pissed the bed. He’d said if I’d wanted to act like an animal I can sleep on the floor like one.

Rex’s footsteps approach and the bed dips as he settles in. I grumble as he shifts me to take off my jacket.

Once we’re both under the blanket, he wraps his arms around my chest, then tugs me close. “No other signs of life. We can rest easy tonight.”

“I ain’t your fucking teddy bear.”

He just chuckles, the bastard, and hitches his leg over mine. “No, you’re my psychotic little shit.”

Dammit.

I ain’t into all the cuddling, especially since the asshole clings to me like a freaking octopus all night, every night. But I can’t deny how I like the way my skin tingles everywhere we connect.

Plus, I never slept so good before, even when I was a kid.

Mom died before the sickness, not sure how. I was too young. But her and my father were always fightin’, always yellin’.

After she was gone, he’d pick on me, sometimes even waking me up in the middle of the night to punish me for something.

Rex is different. Never goes to bed mad. And having him nearby makes me feel . . . safe. Something about his steady presence is soothing, makes me trust him.

And that scares the hell out of me.

Vulnerability gets you killed. Makes you weak.

My jaw clenches tight as my father’s words invade my thoughts. I burrow back into Rex and he tightens his arms around me.

His breath deepens as he conks out first, and soon my eyes grow heavy, his light snores like a lullaby, chasing away the rotten voice that haunts me.

Glad Rex ain’t groping me or whipping his dick out either. Just cuddling. I kinda need the break. My legs and ass are sore as shit.

I yawn big, letting my eyes fall shut. Rex’s steady warmth along my back keeps me cozy as I start drifting off.

Maybe this cuddly sleep stuff ain’t so bad.