Page 184 of My Undead Love Life

“Always.” Keith kissed the top of my head.

Dad made an exaggerated gagging sound. Mom elbowed him.

Tori laughed. “Welcome back, Spencer.”

We moved toward the treehouse together. Keith stopped at the bottom. His hand tightened around mine. The treehouse stood exactly as we had left it, weathered but intact. Smoke rose from the small chimney. Someone had kept the snow cleared from the platform and the rope bridge. Our home.

Keith’s throat moved.

“You okay?” I whispered.

He nodded, but his eyes shone. “I didn’t think I’d see it again.”

“Neither did I.”

We climbed. Keith went first, testing every rung before I followed. Mad came behind me, then Oxi and Luck, who complained loudly about ladders being hostile to his injured toe. When Keith reached the platform, he stopped again. The door was unlocked. He pushed it open, and warm air escaped. Someone had also been keeping the stove going. The inside smelled like woodsmoke, dried herbs, and us.

My chest cracked open. Everything was exactly as we’d left it.

The blanket Keith and I had stolen from the abandoned cabin was folded across the bed. His boots sat near the door. Bundles of medicinal herbs hung from the rafters, labeled in his handwriting. My books remained stacked beneath the window. A mug I had chipped months ago sat on the counter.

Keith’s fingers brushed one of the hanging bundles. I wrapped my arms around him from behind. He covered my hands with his.

Mad, Oxi, and Luck stayed near the doorway.

I looked back at them. “What are you doing?”

Luck gestured around the small space. “This is yours.”

“It’s all of ours.”

All three looked at me.

I moved away from Keith. “This is yours too, now.”

Mad’s gaze moved around the treehouse. “Five people will be tight.”

“We slept in a van with four.”

“Good point.” Luck stepped inside first. He looked at the bed, stove, shelves, and narrow loft with open delight. “This is the cutest apocalypse house I have ever seen.”

“It’s a treehouse.” I smiled.

“That makes it cuter.”

Oxi followed more slowly. His fingers brushed the edge of the counter. His gaze moved over the carved wooden walls, the blankets, the herb bundles, and the family photographs pinned near the window. He breathed in and smiled. “It feels like home.”

Mad entered last and closed the door behind him. The click of the latch settled through the room. “It is home.”

Keith looked at the three of them, then at me. “We’re going to need a bigger bed.”

I laughed, and the sound filled the treehouse. Home had become the four men standing around me. I had left the Oasis with Keith and came back with him, Mad, Oxi, and Luck. We made it home with more love than we started with.

29

SPENCER

EPILOGUE