Chapter 13 First Steps #2
But before I can find something to soften the blow, the moment’s gone. Her grin returns, shameless, like she never felt the sting at all.
“Face it,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You just wanted an excuse to hold me close, eh, Gorgeous?”
Trish’s soft laugh cuts through the air. I shoot a glare at her, but she doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. She just continues toward the ambulance with Joanie.
I sigh, turning back to Lyla. “You’re pretty cocky for someone who looks like she got into a brawl with a pack of hyenas and lost.”
Lyla arches a brow, her full-blown smile making my heart stutter. “That’s because I know my glowing personality is enough to dazzle you.”
Damn her.
“More like blind me,” I mutter.
By the time we reach the ambulance, her weight feels like it’s pressing a little heavier against me, her posture relaxed.
I pull open the passenger door, setting her down gently in the seat.
Her sassiness fades, replaced by something quieter, almost vulnerable, as she watches me buckle her in.
I keep my movements careful, afraid she might shatter if I handle her too roughly.
“There you go,” I say, stepping back to give her space.
She frowns, her gaze darting around the cab. “I thought I was going in the back.”
I shake my head. “I need you where I can keep an eye on you.” I pause, leaning in just enough that to make her breath hitch, her body go still. “Besides, this way, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other. And for you to tell me who you needed to see in that prison.”
Her lips part as fire sparks in her gaze, and she straightens, arms crossing. “Well, get ready for a quiet car ride. I hope you have some good music to drown out the silence.”
The bright smirk she flashes me does something low in my stomach, heat curling in my core. But just as I’m about to push her a little further, Mom steps up beside me, her quiet presence dousing that heat like an ice bath.
I clear my throat, shifting aside as she reaches out, her hand settling gently on Lyla’s arm. The change in Lyla is instant—her frustration fades, the sharp edges of her expression smoothing as her good eye meets Mom’s with a kind of warmth I haven’t seen from her before.
Mom smiles, her voice warm as though she doesn’t want to spook a wild animal. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?”
Lyla hesitates, the usual fire in her gaze faltering, her walls lowering just enough to reveal the cracks underneath. “I’m better,” she says, her voice quieter than usual. “Thanks to you.”
Mom chuckles, shaking her head. “Oh, don’t give me too much credit. You’re the one who kept fighting.”
Lyla glances down at the hand on her arm, her fingers twitching like she’s not sure what to do with the contact.
When she looks back up, there’s something raw in her expression.
“You came back for me,” she says, and it’s not just gratitude—it’s disbelief.
Like the idea of someone choosing her, of coming back for her, still doesn’t quite make sense.
Mom’s brows scrunch with confusion. “Lyla, you saved my life. Of course I came back for you. That’s what we do. We look out for each other.”
Lyla just stares at her, like she’s trying to process the words, to believe them. “Well, thank you,” she murmurs, like she’s not used to saying it. “For not leaving me behind.”
Mom gives her arm a gentle squeeze, her own smile turning knowing, almost amused.
“You remind me a lot of Jacob.” She glances at me with that mix of pride and fond exasperation she’s had my entire life.
“Stubborn as hell, always acting like you don’t need anyone.
But deep down, you’ve got a good heart. You just don’t like showing it. ”
Lyla snorts, rolling her eyes as she gestures toward me. “Great. Just what I needed, to be compared to him.”
Mom leans forward in a mock whisper. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re tougher than he is. But don’t tell him I said that.”
Lyla chuckles. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
I cross my arms as I look between them. “All right, enough bonding time. We’ve got to start moving if we want to make good time today.”
Mom tuts at me, then winks at Lyla before heading to the truck, leaving the two of us alone.
The silence stretches, and when Lyla turns her head toward me, her eyes playful and knowing.
“What?”
She tilts her head, pretending to think. “Just wondering, does it bruise your ego a little? Knowing your own mom thinks I’m tougher than you?”
I huff a laugh, stepping closer, resting one hand on the open doorframe. “You think I need her to tell me that?”
Lyla blinks, caught off guard for half a second, and I use the opening, leaning in just enough to watch the goose bumps spread across her arms, the way her fingers twitch against her lap.
“You’re impossible.” she says.
I tilt my head a little closer. “And you love it.”
This close I catch whiffs of woodsmoke and rain-drenched earth. It clings to her like she belongs out here, something wild, untamed.
I like it. A lot.
I lock my gaze with hers, my voice low. “Besides, if I decide to take you up on your offer for that date, I might just let you see how impossible I can be when we’re alone.”
Color blooms high on her cheeks, her pupils darken, and her eyes flick—quick, instinctual—to my mouth. Her lips part, but before she can fire something off, I straighten and shut the door.
I smirk, satisfied.
Through the window, her voice rings out, loud and indignant, “I take back the offer!”
“Too late,” I yell back.
Her glare sharpens, lips moving fast, no doubt throwing every insult she can think of, but I don’t stick around to hear them.
I just turn, heading back toward the clearing, my grin stretching wider.
Leon is leaning against his truck, my camper already reattached, with his arms crossed. As I approach, he raises his hands, signing, “I saw that.”
“Don’t you have something better to do?”
Up ahead, Earl stands by the hood of his beat-up red Ford, a map spread out across the dented surface. He’s squinting at it, one hand braced on the hood, the other gripping a pencil. Hopefully, he doesn’t notice the faint cup stain I left on one of his precious maps.
I stride up beside him, leaning over the hood to get a better look at today’s route. “What’s the verdict, Earl?”
Earl jabs the pencil at a crooked line on the map.
“This one here’s faster—cuts straight through the back routes up toward DC—but there’s a good chance it’ll dump us into a nest of walkers or worse.
” He shifts the pencil to another line. “This one’s safer.
Follows the old highways, but will take longer.
And we sure as hell don’t have unlimited gas. ”
“True, but safety is what we need, especially after this past week.” I’m not risking our people again. If that means we have to hit smaller towns with fewer supplies, so be it.
“US Route 301 it is then,” Earl mutters, rolling up the map.
I head back to the ambulance, pulling open the driver’s door. Joanie and Trish are already in the back, their voices a faint hum.
Behind us, Leon’s truck rumbles to life, Clair and Poppy already settled inside their own car. Beyond, Jessica and Pete are climbing into her beat-up Volkswagen.
Earl’s truck kicks up dust as he rolls out of the clearing, and I follow, the ambulance bouncing over the uneven dirt road.
We don’t even make it a full minute before Joanie’s voice drifts up from the back.
“So, what snacks do we got for this trip?”
Un-freaking-believable.