“Never, can’t, won’t.I don’t believe in those words.” She yawned. Her breath reached him—warm and sweet. He could get addicted to that particular combination. “Even metal melts if you get it hot enough.”
He huffed out a laugh. His next inhale expanded his ribs and pressed her closer and maybe drew a little hope into his body. She smelled like hope. Like another chance at life. Like the sweet thrill of possibility.
Resisting fatigue, he opened his eyes wide and shut them for a few seconds before focusing on the sky again. “You should sleep.”
Her response was a sigh. At their feet, Bo echoed it.
Time eked slowly by—he couldn’t say for how long—when she spoke again, surprising him. “Wish we’d been there for you. When it happened.”
“It was a long time ago, Leo.”
“Bet it doesn’t feel like it.”
“Does.” He considered. “And it doesn’t.”
“Tell me.”
He opened his mouth to tell her it was late and she should sleep, and then he closed it. She didn’t like being told what to do. He couldn’t blame her.
“It’s like I’ve been alone forever, like that old life—the one I lost. Job. House.Family.Woman who was supposed to…”Love me.He couldn’t even utter the words. She made a little move but didn’t speak, and he kept going. “It’s like I only dreamed it. Not even a memory anymore. More vague. Like I saw it on TV.” His brain gave him a kaleidoscope of moments from back then—opening mail, paying bills, getting drinks with friends after work. Watching football—caringabout football. Like it mattered who won the damn Super Bowl.
“So, that’s one side. What about the other?”
He scrunched up his face, not really adept at explaining stuff like that. “You ever lose someone special?”
She didn’t immediately reply, making him wonder if this would be a one-sided thing. Did Leo take but not give? Would he care if that was her way?
“My mom.” She swallowed audibly. “Killed herself when I was little.”
All the air left him, like a ball to the gut. There it was.Thatfeeling. He wanted to hug her, to tell her he was sorry. But he knew how little good that would do. If he could, though, he’d take the weight of it from her.Thathe would do.
After a bit, he found his voice. “You too young to remember waking up the next morning after it happened?”
“No.” Her voice was devoid of emotion. “I remember.”
He nodded with understanding. From his outermost layer of skin to his deepest entrails, he knew that feeling. “Every morning’s like that for me. Every day, I wake up and…”
After a couple of heartbeats, her hand moved low and found his. Her fingers slid through his and tightened into a fist.
She fell asleep like that, feeding him something he hadn’t had in forever.
Eventually, both she and Bo started snoring, the soft, steady sounds stirring up a messed-up mix inside him of equal parts warmth and the unbearable weight of responsibility.
***
Head throbbing, Leo woke in the dark, struggled to get out from under the blankets, and took a quick look around before settling back into her nest—a nest she shared with Elias—and staring up at the sky. It was brighter than before, the inky black from earlier more of a blue, the stars twinkling less, fading. She couldn’t see her breath in the dark, but she could feel the cold down to her marrow.
Elias sat quietly beside her.
“How long have you been keeping watch?” she finally asked.
His exhausted shrug gave him away.
“You planning to get any sleep tonight, Elias?”
“Wanted you to rest.”
“A lot of good that’ll do me if I have to drag your giant carcass back to Schink’s Station.” She sat up and yanked his arm until he slid into her warm spot with a sigh. “I’ve been thinking.”
