Thank God.
I poke at it with the spoon. “This is mush.”
He flicks the side of my head as he heads back to the stovetop. “It’s Cream of Wheat. Eat up, your skinny ass needs the calories.”
I dig in, groaning at the first hot, creamy bite.
Fuck me.
I’m not sure if it’s because the shit is actually good or because I’m finally eating something hot after a few weeks of eating cold food, but I shovel it into my mouth as fast as I can.
“Slow down. No one’s gonna take it from you.”
“Shut it, old man,” I mumble through a mouthful, already scraping up the last bit from the bowl. “Gimme more.”
He brings the pot of Cream of Wheat over, then refills my empty bowl. I dig in, savoring the hot cereal.
As Rex joins me at the table with his own bowl, the blue-black ink on his left forearm catches my eye again. That tattoo, always peeking out from under his sleeves, intrigues me as much as it irks me.
"What’s it say?" I nod toward his forearm.
Rex pauses, spoon halfway to his mouth, then sets it down. He looks at me, maybe surprised I'm asking again or just weighing how much to share. "Fight as One. Fall as One. Rise as One. Meant that no matter what, we had each other's backs."
The words stir something in me. Sounds like they’re from a story, not real life. Not the life I've known anyway. “Your friends all dead then?”
“Not all.”
Rex resumes eating, his eyes focused on the table. Hate when he gets like this. Acts like he’s okay, but I catch the little things. And if I pry, he’ll do it right back, might even bring up last night.
So I go back to eating.
Rex stands and heads to the stove to start boiling water to refill our bottles. Can’t be too cautious about contamination. There’s enough shit out there to kill us.
While the water heats, we double check our packs, taking stock of supplies, and switching out to warmer gear.
“Gonna talk to me about what happened earlier?”
Fuck.
So much for not prying.
I zip my pack and give him a blank look. “What?”
“When you panicked. Where’d you go?” He holds my gaze, his eyes soft and patient. “Not the first time you’ve zoned out like that but definitely the most intense.”
My fingernails press into my now sweaty palms hard enough to pierce skin as my pulse thrums wildly in my ears. “None of your business.”
“Devon—”
I glare at him, nostrils flaring. “We fuck. That’s it. Don’t think I have feelings for you or anything.”
His face tightens, and a muscle twitches near his eye. He turns away in one fast move to grab the empty water bottles, his shoulders rigid, then stalks back to the kitchen without looking at me.
My chest seizes up, heart pounding against my ribs as I dig my teeth into my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Is he done with me? Will he tell me to fuck off now?
I wouldn’t blame him.
But . . .
