Chapter 16 #2
“See?” Jacob’s grin spreads. “Also, what was it someone just said?” He taps his chin, feigning deep thought. “Oh, right. ‘I like what I like, and I won’t apologize for it.’ ”
I huff, narrowing my eyes. “Good luck finding a pig for your nachos.”
Trish chuckles from across the fire. “Jacob would be the type to try and domesticate a javelina for the sake of his nacho cravings.”
Jacob laughs, all cocky charm. “Damn right.”
“Okay, but if we ever come across a pig, we have to name it Nacho,” Joanie adds.
Earl, clearly enjoying the energy around the fire, claps his weathered hands together. “All right, it’s the moment of truth, Lyla.” He strokes his scruffy chin, and I swear I can hear the wheels turning in his head. “Since you’re fed, was it the government who killed JFK? You must know.”
Edith groans, already massaging her temples like she’s had to endure this conspiracy theorist nonsense for decades. “Please don’t start.”
Earl ignores her. “Come on, you can’t tell me those documents just vanished when the world went to hell. You know something.”
I smirk. “Oh, I know plenty.”
Earl leans in, rubbing his hands together like he’s about to unearth some great, long-buried truth. “See? Knew it.”
“You wanna know the truth?” Everyone leans in, barely breathing. I deadpan. “The moon landing was real.”
A beat of silence.
Joanie groans, throwing her head back. “Oh, come on!”
Jacob chuckles, while Trish straight-up snorts into her bowl.
Earl crosses his arms, feigning deep offense. “I don’t trust you, Agent Lyla. That’s exactly what a government plant would say.”
Edith pats his knee. “Let the woman eat her chili in peace.”
Earl slumps. “Fine. But I’m keeping my theories wide open, and you and I are gonna talk more.”
I grin, scooping another bite of food. “You do that, Earl.”
Laughter ripples, warm and easy. It seeps under my skin before I can stop it. Almost makes me want to let it stay. Almost. But warmth like this comes with a price I’ve already paid.
Earl’s next question catches me off guard. “What’s the best thing about this apocalypse, if you had to pick?”
Some shift uncomfortably, others stare into the fire, searching for an answer. It’s easy to talk about what we’ve lost. Harder to admit that some things might actually be better now.
Trish stretches her legs out, tapping the cover of a worn paperback beside her. It’s different from the one I saw her with last week—this one has a dragon breathing fire at a knight. “More reading time.”
Joanie grins, raising her hands in mock praise. “No more school. Permanent summer vacation, baby.”
“No more chores.” Poppy beams.
Clair chuckles, tucking Poppy’s hair behind her ear. “No more overbearing parents,” she says, a shadow in her voice.
“The company,” Edith says warmly.
Earl chuckles. “I’m finally useful! Took the world ending, but my cartography skills are paying off.” He pats the folded map on his knee.
Leon signs. Jacob translates. “Hunting.”
We all raise our bowls in a toast.
“No work,” Pete mutters.
Jessica, however, speaks with more conviction, “Friends.” Her eyes jerk to Jacob’s profile.
I swallow the snort that is fighting to break free.
Jacob’s gaze slides to me. With a lazy smile he says, “New friends.”
The way his eyes linger makes my pulse stutter.
I hold his gaze, refusing to let him win whatever unspoken game he thinks we’re playing. My lips part, a retort already forming, something to wipe that self-satisfied look off his face, but before I can, he stands and stretches, his muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he rolls his shoulders.
“Tomorrow, we head into town for supplies.” His tone shifts to command. The warmth fades, replaced by responsibility. “Rest up.”
One by one, people peel away from the fire, murmuring quiet goodnights as they slip into vehicles or tents.
Trish hooks Joanie into a headlock, dragging her toward the ambulance while Joanie shrieks in protest, laughing between gasps.
Leon lingers just long enough to sign something to Jacob before melting into the dark like a ghost.
I rise, stretching sore muscles. “Hey, Jo, I’m heading to bed.”
Her muffled voice carries from under Trish’s arm. “Be right there! Just grabbing a book.”
I narrow my eyes. “Trish, she’s fourteen. Make sure it’s appropriate.”
Trish cackles, already vanishing into the ambulance. “Yes, Mom!”
I shake my head. Walking toward Lucy, the firelight dancing in her windows, I feel it—lightness. Rare. The night is warm but not muggy, laughter still hanging in the air. For once, just for a moment, everything feels almost normal.
Then Jessica steps into my path.
Son of a biscuit-eating bulldog.
The shift is instant. Warmth gone. The night feels sharper, hostile. She plants herself in front of me, rigid. Her eyes lock on mine, chin tilted in territorial challenge.
“Back off,” she murmurs, low enough for only me to hear.
I blink, deadpan. “Excuse me?”
She moves closer, not touching, but close enough to make her intent clear. “He’s been through a lot. He needs people who understand him.”
“I’m not doing anything to him.”
She scoffs. “He lost his fiancée right before the world went to hell,” she hisses. “It was brutal.” She lets that hang, like bait on a hook. Waiting to see if I’ll bite. “It was hard for him to see her displayed like that. Broken. Butchered. Taken from him. From all of us.”
The words are designed to hurt, to plant doubt. And damn it, they succeed, just for a second. Something inside me tightens, a flicker of hesitation winding its way through my ribs.
Jessica notices. She likes it.
She leans in, smug now. “Don’t think you can replace what he lost.”
Ah. There it is.
My pulse kicks up. “Why? Because that’s what you’re trying to do?”
Jessica’s head snaps back like I slapped her.
I step forward, forcing her to hold my gaze. “I’m not here to replace anyone. And don’t threaten me, Jessica.” My voice drops, blade-sharp. “Because I will show you just how threatening I can be.”
For a moment, uncertainty flares in her eyes. Then her lips press into a thin, bitter line. “Just stay out of my way.”
She turns and disappears into the shadows.
I stand there, fists clenched so tightly my nails bite my palms, heat prickling the back of my neck.
What is it with assholes confronting me before bed?
First Pete. Now Jessica. If one more person tries their bullshit before I sleep, I might actually snap.
I breathe out slow, but Jessica’s words keep circling back, laced with something venomous. Jacob’s past. His fiancée. Taken from him.
She wanted to rattle me. To make me second-guess everything. And dammit, I hate that it worked.
I’m not angry he hasn’t told me. I haven’t exactly spilled my own truths. But the thought worms in, what if I’m just a distraction? What if this pull between us is just something to fill a void?
My jaw tightens.
Stop.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I exhale sharply, forcing the tension out of my shoulders. Whatever game Jessica is playing, I’m not here for it. I’ve got more important things to worry about.
But she’s right about one thing, there’s more to Jacob’s story. And if I want to be the person he trusts with it, I have to be willing to give something, too. I just haven’t decided when or if I’m ready to share.
My resolve hardens. As I head for Lucy, every step feels heavier.
I veer off the path for just a moment—just long enough to duck behind a thicket of trees near the edge of camp. The bark is rough beneath my fingers as I nail another note into place, low enough to avoid the wind, high enough for the right eyes to see.
The low metal hum of the nail against wood makes something in me settle. Control. Choice. A reminder that I’m not waiting for the storm.
I am the storm.