Page 137 of My Undead Love Life

None of us had any arguments. We did our routine body checks in the new room, fast and tense, with the radio sitting silent on the crate like a threat waiting to speak again. After that, we heated dinner.

Keith and Spencer disappeared sometime while Mad ordered Oxi to get everything ready and told me to find them. We had canned chicken and potatoes heating over the little stove Luck had brought with us from the mall.

The building wasn’t huge, but it had enough corners and shadows to give people space when they needed it or wanted it. The tarp-covered leopard shapes were shoved away from the stairs, but I still avoided looking toward them as I passed.

I followed the soft, quiet laughter of Spencer. I loved her laugh. It brought me joy. I rounded a corner downstairs and came to an abrupt stop.

Spencer was pressed up against one of the support beams, Keith’s hands on her face, kissing her as if he’d been starving for it.

Which was totally fair. He probably had been.

She was just as into it, her fingers tangled in his jacket, pulling him closer like she wasn’t planning on letting go until he was inside of her. Just like I had been—almost a week ago.

My chest squeezed. It wasn’t jealousy exactly. I mean, it was, but not the ugly kind. More like an ache. Like looking at something beautiful but knowing I couldn’t have it right now.

I froze for half a second before I immediately turned around and went to head back upstairs. I made it three steps before my boot scraped against the concrete.

They broke apart.

“…Luck?” Spencer’s voice called, slightly breathless.

“Yeah, uh—” I rubbed the back of my neck, not turning around yet. “Dinner’s ready.”

Then Keith huffed out a laugh, “Good timing.”

“Terrible timing,” I corrected. “But you’re welcome anyway.”

Spencer giggled, and we went upstairs to eat.

We sat in a loose circle on top of a couple of crates and ate from dented cans and mismatched containers.

For a little while, the radio sat silent.

“Keith,” Spencer said after a few bites, her voice careful. “Why don’t you tell them your origin story?”

We all looked at him.

“Origin story?” Keith repeated, one brow lifting.

“You know.” She nudged his chest from where she sat beside him. “Your tragic backstory before you became a mysterious apocalypse hero with an M-4 and period supplies.”

He huffed out a laugh. “That’s an insane description.”

“It’s accurate,” I said.

“Extremely accurate,” Oxi added.

Mad nodded once. “Continue.”

Keith smiled slightly. “I grew up in a small mountain town, and my parents owned a small herbal apothecary. That’s how I learned about identifying plants and creating natural remedies. I loved spending time in the woods, foraging for edible mushrooms, wild berries, and medicinal herbs. It helped me out a lot once the apocalypse started.”

“I can imagine,” Mad commented.

“My dad used to say, ‘Nature provides, Keith. You just have to know where to look.’ He was right.”

“What happened to your parents?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

His smile dropped into a grimace. Spencer set her food down before he even answered, like she already knew the pain coming.