“Thought it would be safe, and I was out of options. I dunno how much you’ve seen of it out there, but it’s gone from bad toworse. I was exhausted and hurting, and I knew this place was here waiting.”
“How did you get all the way here from Alaska?”
“I flew.”
“You must have left right at the beginning of the outbreak if the airlines were still running. Where did you—” She pauses when he levels her with an even stare.
“I was in the cockpit, not the cabin. Lost the plane back in Wyoming, so don’t go getting excited thinking I can take you anywhere because that ship sailed a long time ago.”
“You’re a pilot?”
“If it’s got wings, I can fly it.”
“But you didn’t mention that yesterday when I asked what you did.”
“Yeah, well, we didn’t know each other yesterday. Still don’t. Do you tell everyone everything about yourself the moment you meet them?”
She supposes that’s fair, though it’s slightly irritating that she feels a little annoyed at his dishonesty about something so trivial. “Why did you tell me now?”
“Hell if I know. Maybe I just don’t want you to think…”
He doesn’t continue, but she fills in the space for him in her head. He wanted to give her a positive fact about himself so she might stop assuming he’s some opportunistic asshole, like so many of the men left alive now.
Before the turn, being a pilot was the type of job that would earn some respect. After the turn, it’s the kind of skill that could save lives.
The tea kettle whistles, and she quickly takes it off, filling their cups and sitting across from him, changing the subject from past career choices to something harder. “About earlier—”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not. I made the wrong assumption. I’m not used to anyone being kind to us without there being strings attached.”
“Don’t go thinking I’m some kinda saint just because I know how to keep it in my pants.”
She raises her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, you’re a terrible person. Better?”
He huffs, staring down at his tea as the steam billows up. “Much. Is this place getting to you? I know it’s creepy as hell. Is that what’s keeping you up?”
“It’s not that creepy.”
“We got different definitions then.”
“I keep having nightmares that this baby bursts out of my stomach like some kind of alien. That’s what keeps me up.”
His brows raise. “That’s…”
“Vivid? Horrifying? Yes, yes, it is. I can’t decide if it’s better or worse than all the times I dreamed she was a full-grown adult when I gave birth to her.”
“Damn,” he winces. “Showing up ready for a job and a briefcase?”
Addison huffs. “Pretty much. Then there are the ones where she’s a watermelon, or a cat, or a basketball. Or…one of those dead things out there. The absurdity of what my brain does at night is never-ending.”
“She? You already know?”
“No.” She lays a hand across her belly. “It’s just a feeling, but I could be wrong.”
He’s even more handsome like this, she thinks suddenly. Illuminated by moonlight, his expression soft instead of disgruntled. He’s worn a permanent scowl since she met him, but the absence of it highlights an innocence she hadn’t noticed before.
He watches her almost shyly as they talk about the baby like she’s creating something magical instead of a burden. It’s thefirst time a man has reacted to it with something other than smugness, as if her child were a trophy. Softness looks good on him, she decides, hoping she’ll see more of it.
