Chapter 23 Shopping
TWENTY-THREE
SHOPPING
LYLA
Since the high school, supply runs have stayed small—tiny convenience stores, quiet neighborhoods, and gas stations. No big risks. Everyone’s still raw from too many close calls.
Like Jacob is with me.
Since the bonfire, he’s been full of questions—favorite fruit, favorite movie, what my parents were like. If I could be one inanimate object for the rest of my life, what would it be? Each answer pulls me in further, and the way his eyes track me makes it harder to pretend I’m not attached.
And after that orgasm against his camper? Yeah, I’m in dangerous territory. Falling fast. I even went back a few nights ago to return the favor, only for him to lock the damn door and talk to me through it.
His voice was low, tight, vibrating through the metal like it physically hurt him to say no. “You’re testing my control, Lyla. I shouldn’t have even touched you. Not when you have a concussion.”
Talk about a hit to the ego.
And now? I’m jumpy. Frustrated. On edge. I shouldn’t be getting this close. Not when I’ve been leaving clues in the woods, markings and notes I hope da Vinci finds. Breadcrumbs meant to lead him back to me. Back to us.
I told myself it was the only way to end this.
Now I’m not so sure.
“Woo hoo, Lyla?” Trish snaps her fingers in my face.
I shake my head, adjusting the straps on my pack, and force my brain back to reality.
Trish and Joanie flank me as we continue our sweep of the small downtown area of Libertytown, MD. Joanie keeps scanning the rooftops, her eyes flicking down alleys.
One hour. Grab what we can. Try not to die.
Trish’s eyes light up at the next shop sign, Margaret’s Books and Trinkets.
Inside, the air hangs heavy with the musk of old paper, dust coating every surface. Light filters through a skylight, illuminating rows of shelves stacked with forgotten stories. It looks untouched. Guess books aren’t top priority in an apocalypse.
Shocking.
I’m about to leave, but Trish bolts down the main aisle toward the back.
“Two seconds!” she calls over her shoulder.
I chuckle as she beelines for the romance section.
Joanie drags over a stepstool, stretching to scan the high shelves. A minute later, she plucks down a handful of comic books and picture books.
“For Poppy,” she whispers when she hands them to me.
I take them, fingers brushing the worn covers, a lump forming in my throat. God, I love this kid.
We sweep the shelves, first-aid guides, survival manuals, road maps, even a pocket dictionary, because why the hell not? Joanie tucks away a comic.
I’m skimming a gardening manual when Trish heads toward us, her backpack bulging, straps digging into her shoulders. No way she’s carrying fewer than twenty books.
“That was more than two seconds,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, hush. Mama needs her spice fix.”
Spice, you say? “Got a collection in your van? Might need to stop by.”
Her grin explodes. “Please tell me you’re also a reader of the delectable genre?”
I shrug. “I’ve dabbled here and there. Might be nice to get back into it now that I have some free time.”
Joanie snorts.
“Well, my library is your library.” Trish points a warning finger. “Just don’t dog-ear the pages. I draw the line there.”
“Noted.”
She starts for the door, but a question itches at the back of my mind. “Trish.”
She pauses, curiosity flashing in her eyes.
“Can I ask you something?”
Trish perches in front of a section of battered cookbooks, arms folding over her chest. “Sure.”
Here goes nothing. “What’s Jessica’s deal?”
The warmth from seconds ago cools, strain creeping into the space between us. Joanie inches closer.
Trish exhales, rolling her lips together like she’s measuring her words. “Jessica is complicated.”
Understatement of the freaking year.
She pulls a dusty book off the shelf, flipping through the pages like she’s searching for the right words. Or stalling.
“As you know, she was a schoolteacher. Lost her family early on. She was friends with . . .” She hesitates, clearly uncomfortable.
“With who?” I press.
“Someone close to her. And Jacob.” Her voice tightens. “That’s all I’ll say.”
A weight drops in my chest. “I know about Jacob’s fiancée.”
Trish’s head snaps up, surprise lighting her face. “Did Jacob tell you?”
“No. Jessica did. Jacob just confirmed it.” And said I reminded him of her a little, which I keep to myself.
Trish’s eyes darken. “What did she say?”
I fill her in on the conversation, and by the time I finish, Trish’s fingers are digging into the edge of the table, knuckles white.
Trish shakes her head, jaw clenching. “Jessica’s always been protective of Jacob, and it annoys the shit out of me. I had a feeling she had a thing for him but never acted on it because, well—her best friend was his fiancée. Now?” Her voice runs cold. “She’s seizing an opportunity.”
“Well, that’s fucked up,” Joanie mutters.
Trish lets out a dry laugh. “Yep. You can say that again.”
Joanie doesn’t miss a beat. “Well, that’s fucked up.” She grins like she’s proud of herself.
I groan. “Really?”
Joanie throws up her hands. “What? She said it. You can’t expect me to not follow through on a classic.”
Trish shakes her head, rubbing her forehead. “I did walk into that one.”
Joanie sticks her tongue out at me. “See?”
Trish’s gaze snaps back to me, serious again. “You asking because you care about Jacob?”
I nod.
Trish’s eyes bore into mine. “Jacob’s like a brother to me. He’s come a long way from the angry kid I grew up with. He deserves someone who cares about him for who he is—not just for what he can provide.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Would it help if I said I’m looking for that too?”
“A little. But if I’m being honest, it’s Leon’s approval you’ll need in the end.” She winks.
Super.
“Just make sure you’re all in before you start something with him,” she adds, voice dropping lower. “Jacob loves hard when he lets someone in.”
My mind flashes to his grin, his steady hands, the heat of his kiss. Something hot, dangerous, but tender rolls through me like a warm ocean wave, settling somewhere deep in my chest. “I will.”
Trish nods. “And let’s both keep an eye on Jessica. Might be worth giving Jacob a heads-up—so he can let her down gently.”
I nod. “Already done, T-Dawg.”
“Yikes.” Trish sighs.
Joanie claps her hands together. “All right, enough of the heavy shit. Let’s wrap this up and move on. We’ve got an hour, remember?”
The door creaks as we step onto the street, the exit bell giving a soft jangle, a sound that feels absurdly out of place in the hollow quiet of a ruined world, but makes me smile all the same. I reach up and pull it down, stuffing it in my bag. This will be good for the stringed cans.
Joanie shades her eyes, scanning the block. “Clothing store up ahead. Think we’ve got time to snag a few outfits?”
I glance at my watch. We should if we hurry.
Then an idea sparks.
“Hey, Trish?”
“Yeah?”
“Did Jacob fill you in on our ‘date’ plans?”
She nods. “Yeah, why?”
“Wanna help me torture him a little? You know, for making me wait a whole week?”
Joanie grins. “I’m in if it means messing with him.”
Trish raises a brow. “What do you have in mind?”
I turn back to them, my grin wicked.
“Let’s go shopping, ladies.”