I glance around at the broken fences, the overgrown fields, the peeling house.
I wipe a smear of dirt across my pants and grin.
"Hell yeah, I can."
He laughs.
For real this time.
A deep, rough sound that shakes something loose in my chest.
Gods, I missed that laugh.
We spend the afternoon hauling supplies off the crawler, making rough plans.
The house needs repairs.
The roof leaks.
The water pump wheezes.
The solar collectors are half-dead.
But it’s ours.
Every broken board.
Every rusted hinge.
Ours.
Silpha's sacrifice paid for this second chance.
And I’ll be damned if I let it slip through my fingers.
Later, after the kids pass out in a nest of blankets we throw together in the front room, I sit on the porch with Traz.
The stars here are bigger.
Brighter.
Like they’re close enough to touch.
Traz hands me a battered mug of something hot and bitter.
I sip it, grimacing.
"What the hell is this?"
"Starter pack," he says, deadpan. "For frontier living."
I snort, bumping his shoulder with mine.
We sit like that, side by side, watching the stars burn cold and fierce overhead.
"You think we’ll make it?" I ask after a while, voice barely above a whisper.
He turns, studying me like I’m the only thing worth looking at in the whole damn universe.
