Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Asia
I kept walking not knowing where I was going but not surprised at where I ended up.
“You sleeping, Uncle Levi?” I asked as I knocked on his door.
“Naw, come on in,” he said.
I cracked the door and the hot stench of sickness almost made me step back.
But I swallowed back the nausea and the tears and walked into the room.
“You get some rest?” I asked as I went to his dresser and grabbed a clean rag. I wet it and went to Uncle Levi’s bedside.
“Little bit. But I’ll be out in a few minutes,” he said.
“Don’t worry. We have everything under control,” I lied as I wiped his forehead, and pretended not to feel the heat radiating off his skin or notice the rings of sweat darkening his dingy T-shirt.
“Didn’t sound like it,” he said.
My hand froze in midair, and I met Uncle Levi’s eyes.
“There was…some ugliness. Jack handled it.” I looked away and wiped his forehead again.
He harrumphed. “Sounded real ugly,” he said. “What happened?”
“I—Jack—He—”
Uncle Levi let out a humorless laugh that shifted to a cough. I handed him a glass of water and kept my hold on it even as Uncle Levi lifted it to his lips.
“You develop a stutter, girl?” he asked.
“Travis was stealing food. Jack killed him,” I said, watching Uncle Levi for a reaction.
“Hmm,” was all he said.
“That’s it?” I said.
“What do you want me to say? You want me to condemn him? Be disgusted? You want me to give you permission?”
“What if I do?” I asked.
Uncle Levi laughed, the sound dry, raspy, but still, somehow, him. “Then too bad.” He locked his eyes on mine. “I never told you this, but you scared me when I met you.”
My eyes bugged out as I stared at him. “Me? I was a dumb kid with sticky fingers and a terrible attitude.”
“Yeah, but you were also brilliant, insightful, capable of anything,” he said.
“Well thank you, but what was scary about that?” I asked.
“Because having those qualities meant you’d be effective but it was no guarantee you’d use them for good. I wanted to make sure you did. Kathleen finally told me it wasn’t my choice. I could’ve shown you the way, but you had to make your own choices. That kept me up for more than a few nights.”
He leaned back against the pillows.
“You tired?” I asked.
“Yeah, more than I thought. I think I’ll try for that nap again,” he whispered.
I kept my gaze on Uncle Levi, Jack, Travis, everything else fading into the background.
He lay down, his movements simultaneously weak and jerky.
Wrong.
Just like everything else.
I sat with Uncle Levi until I was brave enough or worn down enough to talk to Jack.
I found him in the storage shed he’d claimed as his own.
He spent most nights in my room, but he came here often to grab a few precious minutes of solitude.
I wasn’t sure, but I thought I was the only one who dared enter when Jack was here.
Maybe everyone else was too afraid.
He and Miles disposed of Travis.
Didn’t even bury him, just dumped him in the pit we used to burn zombies and trash.
Now, he had Travis’s pillow case and returned the stolen canned goods to their rightful place.
His hands didn’t shake.
His chest rose in calm, even breaths.
Some people were good at pretending to be unaffected, but my years in the courtroom had taught me to see through bravado.
Jack wasn’t pretending.
He cared nothing for Travis’s life.
Besides irritation, the stupidity that led to him getting caught and the inconvenience of having to deal with his corpse, Jack wouldn’t think of the man again at all.
I stared at him, letting that realization sink in.
Let my gaze trace the slope of his broad shoulders.
Watched muscle play under the thin fabric of his T-shirt.
Waited for the revulsion.
The fear.
Waited for anything but the want that gripped me every time I looked at him.
It didn’t come.
But what did come was that anticipation, the way my skin prickled, ready for—needing—his touch.
That aching flutter deep inside me that only Jack could soothe.
And with every step I took toward him, feeling disgust at myself.
Because I wanted him.
Would always want him.
Was ashamed because I wasn’t embarrassed by that even though I should have been.
There was something on his hands, blood I realized.
I reached for him anyway. Squeezed his hand and then pulled him close to me.
His expression was stoic, but he squinted, something like a question in his gaze.
Whatever the question, I didn’t wait for him to ask.
Didn’t want to answer.
Instead I kissed him.
Or planned to.
The second my lips touched his, Jack let out a guttural sound and snaked his tongue into my mouth, pulling my body flush against his.
That calm of seconds ago was gone as he lifted one of my legs to his hip and pulled me closer. We both sighed at the contact, the hard ridge of his cock at the apex of my thighs making my pussy cream.
I huffed with surprise when I realized Jack lifted me and laid me down.
I cared nothing of the dirt floor or the damp air.
Jack would keep me warm.
He worked my pants down with blood-stained hands and his own open.
I cried out when he pressed his cockhead against my clit, saw stars when he did it again.
I clutched his shoulders, silently begging for what only he could give, could tell from his ragged breaths he wanted it to.
But he denied us both, instead rubbing his cock against my slit until I was a soaking mess, so needy for him I couldn’t even form the words to beg.
My eyes flew open when he entered me.
I kept my eyes locked on his as he fucked me with deep, slow thrusts that had us both crying out.
I looked down at the bloody hand gripping my thigh and came apart.
I let my eyes drift closed and rode the climax, allowing nothing but thoughts of Jack and what he made me feel when he touched me.
He pulled out and came on my stomach, the sight of it, the feeling, triggering a series of miniquakes in my pussy.
He helped me up, but then pulled his hand away.
When we were dressed, I reached to touch him.
He caught my hand.
“Jack—”
“Don’t,” he said, his voice flat.
Emotionless.
Then he was gone.
Asia
I didn’t see him the rest of the day.
Night either.
By the next afternoon, I felt like I was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. Finally collapsed under the weight of it all.
The weight of the hushed whispers.
The people who wouldn’t meet my eye.
Not even Bridget.
I sat at the kitchen table, and by the third time, she looked at me furtively and shook her head, I’d had enough.
“Bridget, just say it.” I sighed and leaned back against my chair, exhaustion hitting me like a sledgehammer.
“Asia, I don’t need to say anything,” she said.
I huffed, the sound a pathetic imitation of laughter but all I could manage. “But you want to.”
She smiled, hers genuine. “Fine. It isn’t worth it. He isn’t worth it.”
I leaped to Jack’s defense. “He got us here. Kept us alive.”
“And I appreciate it. But what’s the point of living if he’s breaking you down day by day?”
“He’s not—”
She tilted her head. “Oh, so those bags under your eyes are just accessories?”
“Bridget, we have mouths to feed. Hayes breathing down our necks. Uncle Levi—” I cut off, not able to say the rest.
“Yes, and you’re doing your best to handle it all. A partner would lessen your burden. He’s dragging you down.”
I tried again. “He’s not—”
“He is. I just hope you see that before it’s too late.”
She patted my hand and left me and my sad lunch and the thankfully empty kitchen.
By dusk, I’d had enough of resisting and went to find Jack.
There was barely any light, but he still worked doggedly on the fence, sealing one of the infinite holes that always seemed to pop up.
He twisted the metal and then looked at me.
Waiting.
“What did you mean yesterday?” I asked.
“Can you be more specific?” His tone gave nothing away, so I wasn’t sure if he was deflecting.
It didn’t matter. I refused to be deterred.
“When you said ‘don’t,’ what did you mean?”
“I meant don’t look at me like that. Like I’m broken,” he said.
I sighed, tilting my head.
“Jack, I don’t think you’re broken.”
He smiled the saddest smile I’d ever seen.
Grabbed the same wrist he’d held yesterday.
Kissed it.
“Yes, you do.”
He went back to the fence.
I wanted to contradict him.
Tell him that he wasn’t the broken one at all.
I stayed silent.