Slowly, he nods. “Fuck.” His voice is a groan. “The hell was that?”
I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. And then they’ve reversed. And driven over me again.
But I drag myself to my feet, testing my balance. My head is clearing more with every moment, and I head over to check on Rafe. His pulse beats strong and steady beneath my fingers, and I close my eyes in relief before heading to check Ellen.
Both of them, still here. I stop next to Stasi, kneeling down and brushing hair away from her face. Her eyes are closed, but her breathing is quiet as she sleeps. I don’t wake her.
“She’s alright?” Kit asks drowsily.
I have no idea how long she’s been going without sleep. If she was the only one left… my chest tightens. “Yeah. I’m going to have a shower. Freshen up. I’ll be back.”
She took care of all of us.
I plug in my phone in the study before carefully heading to the bathroom, testing my balance. The last thing we need is for me to pass out in the damn shower. But it passes without incident, and I quickly dress before heading back to the study.
I stare down at the phone, counting backwards in my head to the morning we put the sitting room together.
Seventy-two hours, give or take.
Jesus.
I stop at the kitchen. The soup feels cold on the cooker when I brush my hand against it, so I opt for sandwiches, making a stack even though the bread feels slightly stale.
Better than nothing.
Kit is sitting up when I return, his face groggy. “How long?”
“We found Ellen three days ago. When did you go down?”
He squints. “Next morning, I think. Early.”
That makes it two days. I wonder when Rafe went down. Ellen is older, so it makes sense that she’s not roused yet. And if Rafe was last… maybe Stasi wasn’t on her own for long.
I pass Kit the plate of sandwiches and a bottle of water. He bites into one as I check on Rafe again. His eyes flicker. “Rafe?”
“Stasi.” He rasps her name, and I look down at her.
“She’s right here,” I say softly. “She’s asleep.”
He coughs, a grinding, horrible sound. “Everyone ok? Kit?”
Kit leans over, a sandwich in his mouth. “Here. Everyone’s fine.”
“Good,” he breathes. Coughs again. “That’s good. I was… outside.”
I frown. “When?”
“Passed out,” he whispers drowsily. “Orchard. Who… who brought me in?”
Kit and I stare at each other. And then we look down.
At the sleeping girl.
“Fucking hell,” Kit says softly. “You don’t think…,”
“You think she wouldn’t?” I murmur. He groans. “She absolutely would.”
It’s a fucking hell of a trek to make with an unconscious man. How the hell she managed it, I don’t know.
