When I leave the bedroom, I shut the door.
Aspen’s still at the table when I get back to the kitchen and peek at the pancakes with the light from my phone.
Not quite cooked all the way through, and with the heat off, the pan’s cooling rapidly.
“Aspen?” I say as I will the pancakes to keep cooking.
She shakes her head. “I’m good.”
No, she’s not.
Not with that tremble in her voice and her stiff posture and the way she’s staring at her mug.
“We’re gonna be okay.” I abandon the pancakes to go squat in front of her, wanting to touch her and absolutely not daring to. “Lucky you, you’re with a guy who’s survived three apocalypses, two famines, and a few dozen alien invasions.”
“You wereacting.”
“It felt real when you watched the movie though, didn’t it? Plus, one night at poker with the guys, I was being an ass about wiping the table with them, so they started reading all of the criticisms ofWhen Comes the End, and I have been corrected on every basic survival skill that movie taught me. I’ve got this.We’vegot this.”
She eyes me.
And it’s not one of thoseyou have something on your facelooks.
It’sI don’t know if I believe youin her wary expression.
“We do. We’ve got this,” I repeat.
She glances at her wine, then at me again. The shadows from the fire and my flashlight are making her look even more unsure, and that has my heart pounding.
I want her to believe in me.
It matters.
Even though I know it shouldn’t, it does.
It’s so damn hard to not touch her. “You said it yourself earlier. You would’ve made do on your own. You’re fine.”
“You’ve never yelled when I break stuff in your house,” she says quietly, “so I don’t expect you to yell now, but I’m not used to emergency situations where no one’s yelling.”
“Do you…want me…to yell?”
“No! No. I just—I expect it, and I don’t like it, and it’s not—it’s not you, okay?” She huffs out a laugh that’s not funny at all. “This is why I should’ve handled this alone.”
Fuck it.
Justfuck it.
I lean forward and wrap her in a hug. “No yelling, I promise.”
Her body shudders against mine. She drops her head to my shoulder. “Thank you.”
Anything for you, Aspen. Fucking anything.
Her hair smells amazing, and I don’t care that it’s tickling my nose. I could hold her like this for eons.
But she tenses like she again knows what I’m thinking, and I drop my arms. “You want an almost-cooked pancake or three? Nothing like that hot runny batter surprise.”
Another small, forced laugh slips out of her lips. “Sure. Thank you. Do I—can I do anything else to be prepared here?”
