Page 103 of My Undead Love Life

“No,” I said immediately. “No, I don’t.”

Mad searched my expression like he needed to be absolutely certain.

I met each of their eyes. “I want this. With all of you. Not just physically. Emotionally, too.”

The words felt terrifying once they were said because Keith still existed in my heart, and he might still exist somewhere in the world. I didn’t know what that meant for any of us. I didn’t know what kind of person I was if I could hope Keith was alive and still want Mad’s arm around me, Oxi’s mouth on mine, and Luck’s careful hand holding mine. But all of those things were true, and I was so tired of lying to myself.

“Then consider me your boyfriend, flare,” Mad murmured before pressing a kiss against my lips.

Oxi didn’t wait long before pulling me into him, pressing a kiss just under my cheekbone. “Me too, snowfire.”

Luck leaned in after, brushing his lips against mine with a sweetness that made my stomach twist. “Same here, slayer.”

A bright smile spread over my lips. “I’m happy with that.”

“So are we,” they said in sync.

We all paused.

Then, Luck grinned. “That was weirdly coordinated.”

“Don’t ruin it,” Oxi muttered.

“I’m enhancing the joy of it, Oxi. Hush.”

Mad shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

For a few seconds, it was easy to pretend we were normal. That we were four people waking up after a messy, complicated, beautiful night and not survivors in a firehouse with bodies downstairs, a winter storm creeping closer, and miles of danger between me and my family.

The rest of the morning was spent eating crackers, refilling our water, and repacking what we could. Mad had found a new fire axe in one of the lower storage spaces. This place had been his before it had become a tomb for people who had kicked him out. Every time his eyes lingered on a wall, a mug, a folded blanket, or a scuffed place on the floor, I knew he was seeing ghosts.

I hated that for him.

It only took about thirty minutes before we were standing near the entrance again, geared up and prepared to move on. The station smelled like old smoke, oil, dust, and the rot of zombies we couldn’t erase from downstairs. The smell was rancid—much worse than last night. The storm outside had not fully arrived yet, but the sky beyond the doors had gone much darker. Snow moved in restless bursts across the street, and the wind rattled the metal frame around the bay doors.

“Guys,” I called out, squinting through the gray light beyond the doors. “Is that…?”

Four figures were running toward the station. They came out of the shifting snow, stumbling through slush and debris, arms pumping, and coats flapping open. One of them nearly fell, and another grabbed them, dragging her upright.

“Somebody, please, help us!” a woman screamed.

Behind them were about seven zombies.

We all looked at each other.

Mad exhaled sharply. “Let’s take the undead out. Then, we’ll figure out the rest.”

“They look completely unarmed,” Luck added, gripping his shovel tighter. “How stupid are they?”

Oxi went still beside me. Completely still. “Fuck,” he breathed.

I turned toward him. “What?”

His face had gone pale in a way I’d never seen before. All the color drained from his skin, leaving his green eyes too bright and too fixed on the people running toward us.

“I can’t do this,” he said, shaking his head once. “No. No way.”

A cold dread settled in my gut.