“How many do you have left?”
“Uh… Maybe two weeks.” She sets the case on the nightstand.
“Still?” I turn to face her fully. When we first arrived, she had maybe three weeks’ worth. That was two weeks ago. The math doesn’t add up.
“Yeah.” Her fingers pluck at the bedsheet. “I’ve been taking one per day instead of two.”
The words hit like cold water. “Meli, you can’t just?—”
“I can.” She meets my eyes, chin lifted. “I’m okay. Better than running out.”
I’ve been dreading the day we’d need to risk a pharmacy run, but at this rate… We need to. Soon. Still. Her color’s better than it’s been in months. The dark circles under her eyes have faded. She’s moving easier, breathing without that shallow catch that used to worry me.
I sink onto my bed. “Okay, but the second?—”
“I will tell you.” She smooths her hair back, tucking loose strands behind her ears. “So, do you know what Julien’s doing today?”
“Why would I know that?” That was too snappy. “I mean—I don’t. Why?”
“Just wondering.” She shrugs. “I was thinking of asking him to help me sit by the water. Mom thinks it’s too dangerous to go alone, and I’m not asking Dad.”
I force my hands to stop shaking. “I can take you.”
“I know you can. But you’re already doing so much for me. Julien knows more about the area. And I haven’t really talked to him. We used to be very good friends, you know.”
If she really is still in love with him… This makes me the worst sister in the world.
“Before everything. Before Dad got involved with—” She waves her hand vaguely. “It would be nice.”
My stomach twists. “Right.”
“Unless…” Her eyes narrow. “Unless there’s a reason I shouldn’t ask him?”
Because I’m sleeping in his arms every night. Because he touches me like I’m precious. Because I think I’m falling for him, and I know you saw him first.
Because I want him.
“No reason.” I turn away, pretending to search for socks. “Ask whatever you want.”
“Okay. If you find him first, let him know.”
I nod, unable to speak around the lump forming in my throat.
This is why I don’t cross it.
TWENTY-SEVEN
JULIEN
The generator’s guts spill across the dirt at my feet, Cameron’s hands deep in its heart.
“Hand me that wrench,” he says. “The smaller one.”
I pass it to him, wiping sweat from my forehead with my arm. The mid-day sun beats down on us, turning the small clearing into an oven.
Dakota left three hours ago.
Every night, she curls against me like I’m her personal furnace, then bolts at dawn like Cinderella if Cinderella was running from feelings instead of a curfew. Every morning, I fight the urge to throw her over my shoulder and cuff her to my bed. Not kidnapping. Just… preventing her from leaving. There’s a difference.
