What did I expect? That he’d still be holding me, watching me sleep like some romantic movie scene?
I huff out a laugh and sit up. The dresser still blocks the door, but it’s shifted enough to escape.
It doesn’t mean anything. Why would it?
Last night was just practical. Body heat in a world without central heating.
Nothing more.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, testing my balance. Better than yesterday. The dizziness has faded to a distant pressure behind my eyes. My fingers probe gently at the back of my head, finding the lump tender but smaller.
The borrowed pajamas twist around my waist, and I straighten them before padding to the bathroom. My reflection looks better today—less ghost, more human. And thanks to Julien, the cut on my cheek is healing nicely.
After brushing my teeth with a stranger’s toothbrush, desperate times and all that, I change into clothes I’d laid out the night before.
Jeans that are a bit tight on my thighs, a top beneath a flannel, and sturdy boots that almost fit. Not my style, but practical.
Downstairs, the scent of food pulls me toward the kitchen. Julien stands at the stove, his back to me, stirring a pot. He’s changed, too. Dark jeans and a navy Henley that stretches across his shoulders.
“Morning,” I say from the doorway.
He turns, wooden spoon in hand, eyes quickly scanning me from head to toe. “How’s the head?”
“Still attached.” I move into the kitchen, drawn by the steaming pot that smells like porridge. “We have electricity?”
“Nope. Heated it up outside.” He gestures to the kitchen table, already set with two bowls. “Figured we should eat before heading out.”
We’re leaving. Right. This isn’t home, just a temporary shelter. We need to get to Pine Lake, to the others. To Amelia.
My sister’s pale and fragile face flashes in my mind. While I slept safely in Julien’s arms, was she sleeping at all?
I slide into a chair. “You’ve been busy.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugs, turning back to the pot. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”
“What time did you get up?”
“Dawn.” He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t mention leaving me alone in bed after holding me all night.
Why should he?
He joins me and spoons porridge into the bowls, the oatmeal thick and lumpy but smelling like heaven with cinnamon and brown sugar. My stomach growls embarrassingly loud.
“Sorry.” I wrap my arms around my middle. “Been a while since regular meals.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Eat while it’s hot.”
The first spoonful burns my tongue, but I don’t care. The sweet, starchy comfort food slides down my throat, warming me from the inside. I close my eyes briefly, savoring the simple pleasure.
We eat in comfortable silence, and after we’re done, I take our bowls to the sink, before remembering no one will care about dirty dishes in the apocalypse, and there’s no flowing water anymore.
“I packed some supplies.” Julien nods toward two backpacks by the back door. “Food, water, first aid kit. Found a map of the area in a drawer. Pine Lake is about fifty miles north.”
“That’s a long walk.”
“We’re not walking.” He stands, stretching his arms above his head, and my focus narrows to the V disappearing beneath his waistband. It takes a heartbeat too long for his next words to actually register. “Found a car at the neighbor’s house.”
“That’s convenient.” I force my eyes away, wiping my already dry hands on a dish towel. “Almost suspiciously so.”
