She hates watching him disappear into the woods. She’s still capable of holding a gun and swinging a knife, but she can’t risk the baby. So she waits, scanning the treeline, heart hammering in her chest as the minutes tick by.
When he finally appears again, she’s the one who needs to put something in that damn jar. She curses in relief, shaking out her arms like they’re lead weights.
“I knew he’d be fine,” Emma smiles. “He always comes back.”
“I put another one down at the break in the fence, but it looks clear for now. I’ll have to go back and patch it, or who knows what else we’ll see in the morning. It might be a herd wandering through. We’re lucky we’ve got layers of paddock.”
She’s preoccupied with scanning him for imaginary injuries before convincing herself he’s still in one piece. “We have the supplies?”
He nods. “Think so. Won’t take me more than half an hour.”
He must see how shaken she is, and that’s when his businesslike tone softens. “We’re good. Don’t worry. Stuff like this is gonna happen from time to time. We can fix it.”
“I’m not worried about the farm. I was worried about you. I’ll worry again when you leave to patch the fence and every time after that. It’s sort of part of the deal at this point. I’d go with you and help if I could.”
“Once the melon is here, you’ll have plenty to do. I’ll have you out there plowing the fields. Patching fences. The whole nine yards,” he says in a deadpan tone.
“Plowing the fields?” She purses her lips.
“Yep. Both of you. The baby, too. Gotta start ‘em young. If she can’t run a tractor before she walks, we’re failing.”
“You’ve got jokes now,” she teases.
“So many. You ain’t seen nothing.”
“Okay, we were having a moment, but now I’m about to shove you off this porch.”
He snorts under his breath, leaning in to pepper a soft kiss to her lips. “Seriously, I’ll be careful, and I’ll be back soon.”
This is their life now. Even after six years, it never gets easier to watch him leave. The dead will always be here in some capacity. They’ll spend most of their spare time fortifying barriers and gathering supplies. It’s still safer than anywhere else.
* * *
By the time Emma is in bed later that night, and Wyatt has finally returned from fence repair duty, Addison can’t lock their bedroom door fast enough.
She doesn’t bother taking her shirt off, opting for the easiest route of shoving her pants off her legs after searing her lips to his in a fierce warning.
He needs no other encouragement to follow her lead. Backing her up until her legs hit the bed and her back finds the mattress.
“You gotta promise me something, okay?” he says.
“Okay.”
“You have to tell me if I’m too rough.”
She nods, instinct spreading her legs in invitation. “I promise.”
The sound of him fumbling with his zipper is obscene, then firm hands grab her hips to tug her to the edge of the mattress before filling her completely with a single, deep thrust.
There’s nothing slow and sweet about what they’re doing now, not like this morning, when they lingered together for what felt like forever.
The whole day has been foreplay in itself, and she’s more than ready. Doesn’t hesitate to rest her ankles on his shoulders, while she loses all ability to do anything but squeeze her eyes closed and revel in the sensation of her body bouncing in time with his efforts.
He’s found a spot that has her toes curling until she’s certain she’ll burst, and the haphazard mashing of his thumb above where they’re joined triggers the relief she so desperately needs. Her legs shake, and muscles clench, that telltale rush of warmth within her signaling that he’s not far behind.
He leaves her quickly, if only because his knees buckle as he collapses onto the bed beside her. “Fuck.”
Finally, she is sated and comfortably numb.
