Chapter 1
ONE
Jack
“I presume that’s mine.”
Asia didn’t flinch at the sound of my voice.
She didn’t drop the dish towel.
Didn’t spin around in shock.
She just moved across the kitchen, her steps silent, deliberate, even though she wore a pair of heavy tan work boots.
She reached for the upper cabinet, her long fingers plucking a cup from the shelf, the soft clink of the glass against the wood discordant in the thick silence.
When she stretched up, the hem of her shirt lifted just an inch.
I saw it again.
That gentle, barely there slope everyone else would have missed.
Not me.
I knew every inch of that stomach.
Remembered exactly how it looked and felt the morning I walked out the door.
Knew exactly how many weeks had passed since I’d been inside her.
The math was violent in its simplicity.
She laid the dish towel down on the counter and then filled the glass with water, the faucet the only sound in the weighted calm of the house. The pipes groaned, the deep rattle a new and not welcome addition.
She turned then, her face a mask of terrifying calm, and set the glass on the table between us.
She didn’t push it towards me. She just left it there.
A peace offering?
A weapon?
For the first time since I’d met her, I looked at her and didn’t know.
The sun was fully up now, the bright light cutting through the window and splitting her face in half. The frilly white curtains I remembered from before had been replaced with heavy burlap held back by a hook on the wall.
Smart.
It made the kitchen darker, less homey than it was the day we’d arrived, but that loss was worth the trade.
I huffed in a breath and caught a faint scent, one I had tried—and failed—to recreate in my mind.
I thinned my lips, trying to suppress the urge to smile at the memory of presenting Asia with that soap.
Levi had what appeared to be an inexhaustible stash of boring white bar soap, and when I had given Asia eight bars of glycerin soap, she had been spectacularly creative in showing her thanks.
I pressed my thumb into my chest, trying to rub away the sudden ache.
That was before.
The memory had no place anymore.
My hand curled into a tight fist as I glanced down at her stomach. All those times before when I’d been so careful… Not that night, though. That night I’d given in fully to my deranged need to possess her.
Now came the consequences.
I lifted my gaze to her face again.
She met my eyes, and I braced myself for the scream.
For the tears.
For the rage I deserved.
I didn’t get it. Instead she tilted her head, her gaze dropping to my hands, then moving back up to my face.
“If you’d been here,” she said, her voice flat, “you would know.”
I nodded.
So a weapon then.
One she wielded with precision.
One she’d earned.
I held her gaze. “I’m here now.”
Her face hardened for just a split second, and then she smiled. She turned abruptly, and then walked towards the kitchen door. “In that case, make yourself useful. The animals need to be fed.”
She was gone then, her booted steps echoing through the living room, the squeak and then slap of the screen door slamming behind her.
I should have fixed that before I left. The noise of the screen door didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things, but every little bit helped.
Soon that sound faded, and I was like I had been so many times before.
Alone.
Always alone, except with her.
How fucking ironic.
The world had fallen apart, but I hadn’t been alone.
Because of her.
I looked towards the spot she’d vacated, and even though I was sure I still smelled that soap, I felt her absence as much as I had her presence.
Needing to do something, I grabbed the glass of water.
Heard a faint crack, felt the cool wetness of water on my hand.
I loosened my hold, and the shards of glass crumbled into a pile on the table.
It was the same table that was here the first day we arrived, but this wasn’t the same farm.
She wasn’t the same Asia.
I stared down at my hand, watching the blood gather around the shard of glass poking out of my skin.
Felt the sting of the slice.
Welcomed it.
I clenched my fist, then flinched, forcing myself to relax. “Gonna sit here feeling sorry for your fucking self, asshole?” I grumbled.
I pushed out of the chair, the scratch of the metal feet on the floor distant but welcome.
After I picked the glass out of my hand, I wiped off the table, sweeping the shards of glass into the white plastic trash can with sunflowers etched on it.
Not the welcome I would have prayed for if I was dumb enough to pray.
But it was the welcome I deserved.
I put the trash can back next to the long-dead refrigerator and rinsed off my hand, happy to see that the wound was superficial, so I wouldn’t have to worry about an infection.
I looked out the kitchen window and spotted Asia in the distance. She stood at the fence, far enough away that it looked like the morning mist that hadn’t been burned away by the sun might swallow her.
Close enough that I could finally touch her again.
The urge to run to her was there as always, as strong as ever.
Stronger even.
I centered my gaze on her, unblinking as she moved.
She didn’t want me here.
I didn’t blame her.
Didn’t even deserve to breathe her air.
But shit like that never stopped me before.
It wouldn’t now, either.
Asia
“Is it true?”
I was at the fence, checking for holes. Always checking for holes.
I knew this fence better than I knew my own body. Knew every patch that was rusted, where the wire started to fray.
Knew that the fence was not protection against what could hurt me, but I tended to it anyway.
Energetic steps sounded behind me, and I smiled.
I knew those steps well and had been expecting them.
The strides were confident, eager in a way I wasn’t sure mine ever had been.
My face turned up in a smile automatically, but I didn’t look at Miles.
I shook my head. “Guess we can’t keep secrets around here.
” My voice was light, playful, while my mood was anything but.
“So it’s true!” At his exuberant outburst, I finally looked at him, the smile on my face this time genuine.
“Yes, Miles. Jack is back.”
The boy returned my smile, the little fuzz above his upper lip catching the early morning sun. “That’s the best news since…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I was gonna say since you found that stash of gummy bears at that grocery store, but this is way better than that.”
I turned back to the fence. “Glad to hear you’re happy, Miles.”
He moved into my periphery, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he cracked his knuckles despite Lourdes scolding him every time he did. “You need help with that?”
I chuckled. “What? Make you help me rather than run off to find Jack? I wouldn’t dream of it!”
“Thanks, Ms. Newman. I’ll finish my chores and then go find him,” he said.
I patted his thin shoulder and smiled as I watched him run off towards the barn, weaving through the obstacles we’d built.
Despite everything, Miles was still a good kid.
A good person.
I could only hope my son—
I shook my head, squeezing the wire cutters tight in my grip, the red plastic handles simultaneously gummy and cracked. On instinct, my gaze drifted towards the house, towards where he was.
My home, the siding weathered but resilient, the swing on the porch shifting in the wind like this was an ordinary day, and all I could think of was him.
I hated that, seeking him still, even after everything.
It didn’t matter.
This baby was mine.
I would do whatever it took to protect him. Jack, his presence—his absence—didn’t change that. I stood up straighter and turned more fully to the fence.
Still, as I moved, the motions methodical by now and no longer requiring thought, I couldn’t help but remember that day.
The one where I’d finally realized that it wasn’t grief and disgust that had me sick. With the combination of things, the absolute exhaustion, the inexplicable craving for lasagna, the realization that the limited supply of feminine hygiene products was holding up remarkably well.
A compelling picture of the undeniable reality.
I didn’t have an obstetrician. Didn’t even have one of those dollar store pregnancy tests. But I knew. And even then, I was unable to stop myself from thinking of Jack.
Jack.
Even now, after what he had done, the very thought of his name set off a flare of heat in my chest.
Made me hate myself all the more for it.
I finished my section of the fence, then walked along the rest, looking out towards the pasture, always alert, waiting for a zombie, a straggler, the next threat to come.
Same as I did this morning, when I spotted him.
I was at my favorite spot, the top of the world.
It had been my place long before Jack, but like everything else, I couldn’t help but think of him whenever I was there.
I was sure it was happening again. I was halfway convinced I’d conjured him with my imagination when I saw him walk out of the tree line.
Because it couldn’t have been anyone else.
Even in the predawn morning, those strides were unmistakable. Jack, taking up space, walking like he owned a world that we both knew belonged to the dead.
I finally lost it.
That was my first thought, the realization that finally, after everything, I had come apart at the seams.
I remembered how I’d laughed, the sound light, almost joyful.
Scary.
Remembered how quickly I’d shut it off.
My baby needed me, which meant I couldn’t fall apart.
I stopped walking and gripped the wire cutters tight again, the metal solid against my palm, the new calluses there stinging with the pressure.
Jack was here.
I couldn’t fall apart.
And besides, he would be useful.
I didn’t like that, didn’t want to admit it, but knew that denial was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
What Jack had done to me didn’t matter.
My feelings about him mattered even less.
I just needed to make sure I remembered that.