“What are you thinking about?” Jack’s voice is rough and sleepy-sounding, but he’s looking at me with a soft, crooked grin.
I blink, caught off guard. “Nothing. Just the birds.”
He laughs, that deep, dangerous sound that makes me want to jump his bones right there. “You’ve been staring out the window for a while. Are you plotting your escape?”
I smirk, rolling back over to face him. “Only if you try to feed me those nasty-ass beans again.”
He grins, stretching. I watch as the muscles tense and bunch under his skin. My mouth goes dry. “Hey, beans build character.”
“They build something,” I mutter, pulling the covers over my face and giggling. He yanks them back, kissing me slow and sweet.
“You hungry?” he asks.
I sigh. “Depends. What’s on the menu?”
He stands, grabbing a pair of jeans off the chair. “I’ll give you two guesses, and the first one doesn’t count.”
“Refresh my memory.”
He shakes his head, laughing. “Well, my lady, we’ve got beans, obviously. We’ve got, what I like to call…chicken of the sea, and soup. Or we can risk heading out and see what’s left at the gas station down the highway.”
I groan. “If I eat another can of tuna, I’m going to lose my mind. I’d kill for a real breakfast.”
Jack pulls the shirt over his head. “I’ll go see if the truck’s still out of the mud. Maybe we can take our chances.”
He picks up his phone, thumb swiping over the screen, frowning. “Nothing from Trent. I don’t like it.”
I pull on a pair of leggings and a hoodie that were left here for us. “Maybe he’s lying low, too.”
Jack shrugs, but I can see the tic in his jaw and the way his hand hovers near the gun on the counter. He’s always on edge, even when he tries to hide it.
I’m halfway to the kitchen when I hear a twig snap outside. I freeze mid-step. Jack’s head whips around. In a blink, he grabs his gun and motions for me to stay back.
My heart leaps straight into my throat as he creeps toward the window. I yank on my shoes and grab my backpack. Ready to run if we have to.
There’s a soft knock on the door. “It’s me, man. Trent.”
Jack doesn’t relax. He keeps the gun raised as he moves the chair wedged under the knob. He eases the door open while keeping most of his body out of view.
Trent steps in, hands up. His face is a mess, bruised, split lip, one eye nearly swollen shut. “Jack. Relax. I’m alone. Jesus, you two are jumpy.”
Jack doesn’t lower the gun until he’s checked the porch and scanned the tree line surrounding the property. Only then does he let out a breath and shut the door.
“Who sent you?” Jack’s voice is sharp and dangerous.
Trent just stands there for a second, looking beat to hell, older than I remember. Then he shrugs.
“Relax, man. No one sent me. I never actually left.”
Jack narrows his eyes. “What the fuck does that mean? Where have you been for the past three days?”
Trent lets out a tired breath. “After I dropped off the supplies, I crashed at the old groundskeeper’s shack. Hid my car in the shed out back and kept my head down. Figured you two shouldn’t be out here alone. Somebody needed to keep watch. Just in case shit went sideways.”
He glances at both of us, a little sheepish under all the bruises, but his voice is sincere. For the first time, I believed him.
“I wasn’t going to bail on you. Not now.”
He hesitates, jaw tightening, and I see the weight of something ugly behind his eyes. “Look, there’s more. And I should’ve told you that day on the phone, but I didn’t, and…”
