But when I sit up from where I was curled up on the floor, the electric clock on the mantel is still dark. I crawl over to the couch and fumble for the lamp switch. Nothing happens.
So why isn’t it freezing in here?
A footstep thuds behind me, and I jerk my head around to find Theo standing in the entrance to the living room. He’s changed his clothes, and it looks like he might have taken a shower, too. There’s no trace of filth left on him.
Plenty on me, though. From what we did.
I rip the blankets away and find I’m still naked underneath, dirt and blood streaking my skin. Warm air settles over my shoulder.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Theo points to the picture window, still covered by the curtain. But I realize Ihearsomething. A low, mechanical rumbling.
“What’s that?” I sweep up one of the blankets and wrap it around me, more to hide my nakedness than to keep warm. Theogives me a shy, pleased-looking smile, and something about it makes my heart tremble.
He’s a monster, I tell myself, as if I didn’t just fuck him for hours. Willingly.
I cut across the living room and drag back the curtain. The first thing I notice is the snow—piles and drifts of it, like what happens up north, all bright white and untouched. The sky is grey with early dawn, but the snow itself seems to glow.
Then I see the generator.
When I turn around to look at Theo again, he’s standing right behind me. I jump, startled, and he smiles again.
“Found it in one of the empty houses,” he says. “No one was using it there.”
Yeah, no one was using it because everyone fled because he murdered five fucking people. I don’t say that, though.
“It’s running the heater,” I say instead. “Isn’t it?” I realize I can hear that too: a soft, constant hum in the background. I think that’s what woke me up. What made the house feel alive.
Theo nods. “It’s not strong enough to power everything, but I thought the heater was the most important.”
He signs more quickly than he did earlier, and I’m six months out of practice. But I still manage to get all of it.
We stare at each other. I tug the blanket around my shoulders, trying to decide what to say. My entire body is aching, and I know it’s not from the cold. My heart is aching, too, and I don’t know if it’s from his kindness or from the fact that I let myself give in to him the second he walked through my door. That I begged him to fuck me even though I’m supposed to hate him.
“Thank you,” I finally say, the words stiff. Then, half-heartedly, I sign it, too.
“I don’t mind if you talk,” Theo says. He holds his hands still for a second, then adds, “I like the sound of your voice. I missed it.”
I jerk my gaze to meet his eyes, as bright and piercing as the snow. “Missed it?” I echo.
“While I was underground.” He tilts his head. “Do you know about that?”
My chest tightens, and I pull away from the curtain, back toward the center of the living room, where the fire is still casting a dim pool of orange light. “Yeah,” I say. “My friend Penelope, she told me that’s how you—how you come back.”
Theo’s footsteps thud against the floor. So he can make noise when he wants to. He puts his hand on my shoulders until I look over at him.
“Yes,” he says. “I’m aware, when I’m dead. Sort of.” His eyes gleam. “Usually, all I think about is the void. But this time, I thought about you.”
My breath lodges in my throat and wobbles there. My eyes feel heavy.
“Why?” I whisper.
In response, Theo reaches over and brushes his hand over my hair, lank and greasy from three days without power or a proper bath. God, none of that occurred to me when he was fucking me into unconsciousness. Mostly because I wasn’t thinking about anything. Just—him.
Now, with the heat on, the storm over, and some semblance of a civilization seeping back into my home, it’s all I can think about.
“The hot water is working,” he says. “Would you like a bath?”
