“Good.”
“Things feel a little less stressy tonight,” I say. “Five new people who I’m guessing know how to help with our situation.”
“They know how,” he confirms. “George wouldn’t allow us to see the location of his setup. We had to wait outside of town while they packed up their stuff. But Pedro showed usthe basement where he’d been sheltering in place. Could have comfortably lived there for a decade and defended it for at least as long. He had a lot of weapons. Not a tank, though.”
“Remember, it’s good to share your toys with your friends.”
He gives me a look. “No. It’s my tank. They can get their own.”
I just smile.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier,” says Dean. “We need a dog like Honey.”
“That’s a great idea. Soph would love one.”
“No. I mean for security. The house you’ve chosen—”
“The housewe’vechosen.”
“Whatever. It isn’t very defensible. There’s no perimeter. We’re not hidden during the day, and even at night there’s light and noise that betray where we are. We’re too exposed.”
“And a dog would help defend us?” I ask. “Are they really that dangerous if people have guns?”
“As a fast-moving threat, yes. But literally any dog that can bark is a help,” he says. “They hear everything. They can smell strangers, even after they’ve slipped away. Some dogs can even track if they catch a scent. Dogs make us a hard target.”
I think it over. “There must have been some dogs in town originally. They either died from lack of water if they were locked inside or wandered away if their food ran out. But they might not have wandered too far.”
“We should start looking. Leave some food out on the edges of town and see if any show up.”
“That’s a good idea. Come here,” I say, patting the empty mattress beside me.
He pauses, and his mouth opens and closes. Like he’s not sure what to say. Then he wisely shuts his mouth and lies down beside me. I don’t think I have ever seen him look so ill at ease. The man absolutely believes I am setting him up forannihilation. That he will say or do the wrong thing and be banished from my sight.
“Look.” I point to the white-painted ceiling high above our heads. “Do you see?”
It takes him a moment, but then he understands. “Somebody drew stars up there with a pencil.”
“Yeah, and a crescent moon.”
“Huh.” And a small smile curves his mouth. From this distance the bruises beneath his eyes are obvious. He’s had another long day in a series of them lately.
“Close your eyes. Go to sleep. You look tired.”
He snorts. “Astrid.”
“What?”
“I am not getting any sleep lying on a bed with you the way things are between us.” He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed.
My limb isn’texactlyworking of its own volition. However, I don’t remember making the decision to grab hold of the back of his shirt to stop him.
He gives me this look over his shoulder like he doesn’t know what’s going on, and honestly, me too. The words that come out of my mouth, though, make perfect sense.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
He pauses, and his expression is so controlled. I hate how he’s holding back and hiding whatever he’s feeling. How fucking dare he do that when I clearly can’t. “What do you want, then?” he asks.
“I already told you. I don’t want you to leave.”
