For me.
Stop it, Sorrel. Stop making this into something it’s not.
“I need to shut down the generator,” he says. “Conserve the fuel.”
See? Told you he wasn’t closing it for me.
I force a smile. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”
He grabs the remote starter, presses the button. The distant rumble dies.
And just like that, we’re cut off from the world again.
But it feels different now.
Colder.
Not because of the temperature.
Because for a few minutes, we got a glimpse of what’s waiting for us. His empire crumbling. My parents terrified and relieved. My ruined dissertation. The real world with all its complications and impossibilities.
“So rescue is tomorrow,” I whisper.
He nods, still not looking at me. Lost in his own thoughts. “Tomorrow.”
The word sits between us like a death sentence.
One more day.
That’s all we have.
I move closer to the fire, pull his hoodie tighter around me, and try not to think about how much it’s going to hurt when this all ends tomorrow.
When he takes back his hoodie.
When he takes back everything.
Why did I have to let myself fall in love with him?
23
Gregory
The silence after the generator dies is different from every other silence we’ve had this week.
Colder.
Heavier.
Like someone dropped a chunk of cesium ore between us.
Sorrel stands by the windows, staring out at the sunny sky. She’s taken off her coat so I can see my hoodie on her. Usually she has the sleeves rolled up, but the fabric droops over her fingers at the moment, hiding those hands whose knuckles I’ve kissed.
That hoodie... instead of making her look adorable andmine, it just reminds me that tomorrow she’ll give it back.
Tomorrow.
Less than twenty-four hours.
