“Are you sure you’re okay out here?” he’d ask.
Ruby would wave him off, her lips twitching into a half-smile. “Go. Sleep. I’ll be fine.”
Still, his concern lingered, even as he turned in for the night.
They spent mornings watching TV, Jonah perched on the couch with his breakfast while Ruby sat beside him, not eating but enjoying the easy rhythm of the moment. He’d glance at her occasionally, offering a bite of his meal despite knowing she’d decline.
In the evenings, she smoked in the backyard, the faint scent of her herbal cigarettes mingling with the fresh night air. Jonahjoined her sometimes, leaning against the railing, and they’d talk about everything and nothing.
RUBY DISCOVERED THEjoys of barbecue smoke. They were at a food truck festival when she felt it—this faint hum of energy, like a spark catching in her chest. She hadn’t realized what it was until Jonah pointed out the grill nearby, its tendrils of smoky air curling toward the sky.
“You’re kidding,” he said, watching her with wide eyes as she lingered by the truck, breathing deeply.
They found a rhythm, compromising and adjusting as their lives tangled together. Jonah gave her space, and she tried not to rearrange too many of his things. They found ways to make it work, even when it wasn’t easy.
Some mornings, they sat on the back steps, watching the sunrise paint the sky in shades of lavender and gold. Ruby leaned her head against his shoulder, the world still and perfect for just a moment.
Later, they strolled through the farmer’s market, Jonah chatting with the vendors while Ruby listened, her fingers brushing over fresh produce she didn’t eat but liked to touch.
Sometimes, she couldn’t stand him. His smug smirk drove her up the wall, his jokes pushing just the right buttons to make her blood boil. But even then, even when her frustration bubbled over, she loved him fiercely.
He was her best friend.
The one who made her stalled time move forward.
THE AIR SMELLEDfaintly of rain as Ruby stepped out of the car and into the grocery store. Unusually quiet for a Saturday morning, the fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the aisles. She wove through them with practiced efficiency, a gallon of milk clasped in her hand within minutes.
Jonah stayed at home, packing clothes for their next hunt. She’d finished hours ago—years of hotel living had made packing second nature—and offered to grab the milk he needed for his coffee. A simple errand, a mundane reprieve from their constant movement.
Ruby’s attention drifted to her phone as she stood in the checkout line, her thumb idly scrolling through her social media feed. A notification caught her eye—a concert clip from an artist she’d been dying to see. Her lips quirked into the faintest smile as she tapped the video.
The stage lights burst across the screen, and the artist hit the splits, earning a wince from Ruby. She let the video play, her eyes wandering to the sea of blurry figures in the crowd as the camera flipped to the person recording. They were singing along, their voices blending with the muffled audio.
But then she froze.
A face. Familiar.
Her breath hitched as her grip on the milk tightened. She rewound the video, pausing it with a flick of her finger, and then zoomed in.
No.
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. They should be dead. No one lived once the TCA got their hands on them.
She rolled her shoulders back and looked away, deliberately fixing her gaze on a garish poster tacked above a market stall. She exhaled sharply, willing her mind to settle. Perhaps a trick of the light. A misinterpretation.
But when she glanced back, nothing had changed. The screen still showed the concert-goer, clear as day.
Her pulse quickened as she captured a screenshot, zooming in further. She examined the contours of the face, the curve of the mouth, the tilt of the head.
“Next in line.”
The prompt startled her, and she looked up at the cashier. She shook her head, her thoughts spinning.
“Ma’am?”
Ruby swallowed hard, forcing herself to place the milk on the counter. Her hand trembled as she slid it forward.
And then, without another word, she turned and ran.
