Twenty-Six
sadie
“It’s weird walking through someone else’s apartment with all their things in here.” I left the door to number fifteen wide open, following Theo into the kitchen with a laundry basket tucked under my arm.
I set the basket on the island bench and opened the first overhead cupboard, finding a collection of teapots and glassware.
“We don’t need to be in here long,” he said. “Empty the pantry. Check every cupboard. Grab whatever looks useful.”
“And stay away from the fridge,” I said. “Who knows what’s in there after all this time.”
Penny and Jasmine were our across-the-hall neighbours—identical twins in their sixties who’d spent their entire lives together. One had been an accountant and the other a retired high school teacher. They’d died within two weeks of each other during the first wave of the virus.
Their place was filled with antique furniture and ornaments. Decorative plates lined the walls, and a porcelain tea set had been arranged on the dining table as if they might sit down any minute to chat over steaming tea and biscuits.
When they died, I thought we’d eventually get new neighbours, not end up in an empty building.
Theo and I worked in silence, the faint smell of dust hanging in the air as he filled the laundry basket with boxes of pasta and tinned soup.
“It feels like they could come home any minute and catch us stealing their food,” I said, sorting through the overhead cupboards.
“They’d probably give it to us even if they were still here,” he said. “They loved me, remember?”
“They loved everyone—you just encouraged it. How many meals did they cook for you?”
“I wasn’t counting,” he said with a smile in his voice, “but sometimes it was like having my own meal prep service.” He had his back to me, rifling through the pantry for a while before he finally spoke again. “It feels good knowing you’re coming with me.”
The deep timbre of his voice had my fingers freezing on the handle of a first-aid kit, and I stayed quiet to see if he’d keep talking.
“I don’t know what we’re doing here,” he went on, “but it feels… big. Like it means something. I couldn’t have driven off without you, even if Kerger wasn’t around.”
My heart swelled as the weight of his words sank in. At one point, I thought Nathan would be the man I ended up marrying, but he was merely a crush who became a habit. We’d never had deep conversations. He didn’t put me first or make me feel important.
Theo and I weren’t even in an official relationship yet, and he’d connected to me more in the past weeks than Nathan had in years.
When he turned with a cereal box in one hand, his eyes found mine across the kitchen. As he looked at me, the air between us shifted and turned electric.
Total silence enveloped us. There was no humming fridge or dishwasher. No television chatter. Just the two of us in a space we didn’t belong—and I’d never felt more at home.
“It means something to me, too,” I said. A tremor rushed through me, and a sweet fluttering sensation stirred in my stomach. We hadn’t even touched yet, and it felt like every part of my body was being brought to life.
A hint of a smile played at his mouth as he set the box on the bench and wandered over to me. My heart pumped faster with his approach, and I held onto the first-aid kit like a lifeline.
Theo stopped when we were toe-to-toe. He reached for me, fingers brushing mine before slowly uncurling them from the handle. He took it from me and set it aside, his touch warm and careful, his nearness sending tingles up my arm.
I lifted my chin and held his gaze, my breath catching when he didn’t look away.
How would the twins feel about all the pheromones flooding their apartment? I hoped they wouldn’t mind us using their space this way. Since Theo had charmed them the same way he did everyone else, I had a feeling they’d approve.
His thumb traced lazy circles on my knuckles. For such a simple touch, it shouldn’t have made my pulse leap, but I couldn’t breathe properly. His hand slipped higher, caressing my wrist, then my arm.
Theo curved his fingers around the back of my neck, stroking the sensitive skin there until I shivered and pulled him closer. The edge of the bench pressed against my lower back, and his body caged me in, containing me.
I should have moved away. Stopped this craziness before it spiralled.
His uneven breaths matched mine, his grey eyes turning smoky in the low light.
When he leaned in, our surroundings faded to nothing.
He trailed his lips across my cheek, pressing a peck on the spot where he’d first kissed me, as if in memory.
Then his mouth hovered over mine with the most frustrating, exhilarating patience.
I would have laughed at my desperation if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in every little thing about him.
Was he waiting for me to meet him halfway?
If so, challenge accepted.
My hands fisted in the front of his shirt as our lips touched, softly at first. Slowly.
Then his stubble rasped my chin, and I almost lost my mind.
A moan tore through me, and Theo smiled against my mouth, angling his head and deepening the kiss.
His fingers shoved under the fall of my hair, and he grabbed a handful as his tongue swept through my mouth.
God.
Goosebumps skated across my skin, and I arched against him, unable to control myself.
His other hand moved to the hem of my top, dipping underneath and caressing my lower back. When his fingers danced up my spine, his touch so gentle and sensual, I almost begged him to open the clasp on my bra.
Theo broke the kiss and eased my head back to expose my neck. “I like the sounds you make,” he said, his voice rough against my ear. He trailed his mouth lower, leaving soft, damp kisses along my throat.
A surge of desire sped through me, and my entire body sang. “I can’t take much more.” I wanted him to devour me. Make me forget everything outside these walls.
“Hmm, we’ll see.”
His dry tone pulled a laugh from me. I sank my hands into his hair and told myself to treasure this before our world blew up. “Whatever you do to me, I’ll return tenfold,” I said. “Remember that.”
He lifted his head and frowned, his gorgeous lips puffy from our kiss. “Who says tenfold? And that’s… the opposite of a threat, sweetheart.”
A rush of affection took over, and my gaze lifted from his mouth to his eyes. “Am I your sweetheart?”
“Haven’t I made that obvious?” He ran his thumb along my lower lip, and a slight smile formed. “Better keep trying then.”
He dived onto my lips again, ramping up the passion, keeping it just shy of chaos.
The hand he’d slipped beneath my shirt swept around to the front, skimming the underside of my breast, trailing down to caress my clenched stomach. His touch left shivers in its wake. His tongue teased and taunted. All the while I clung to him and kept myself standing on trembling legs.
It took the slam of a door downstairs to pull us apart, and our breaths wrenched from us as we stared at each other.
“How are you two going up there?” Tim yelled, his voice ricocheting off the walls.
Theo covered my ears with both hands and shouted back, “Making great progress.”
With a shocked laugh, I shoved him off me.
“I don’t want to know what that means,” Tim called out. “It sounds dirty. Let me know if you find anything good.”
Theo palmed the back of my head as he calmed himself, his grin ridiculously appealing.
“Proud of yourself?” I asked, still panting.
He kissed me again, then looked me over. “You’ve changed from a cactus to a clingy koala, so yeah… I’m feeling pretty accomplished.”
“Good old Gav,” Theo said as we entered the last empty apartment on our floor.
Gavin Sturgess. Work-from-home IT specialist and part-time gamer. Sometimes, if the acoustics were just right, I could hear him shouting from across the hall—not in a rage, just… high-level excitement that seeped through the walls.
Theo carried another empty laundry basket, and I followed him inside, breathing in stale air and stillness.
“Woah.” My mouth parted, and I shot a glance at Theo. “He was a collector. A big time collector.”
“Is that surprising? All he ever talked about was tech stuff and comics.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said, remembering the way he used to scoot past me and avoid eye contact. “He barely said a word to me.”
Figurines were lined up with meticulous precision on the floor-to-ceiling shelving dominating one wall of the lounge. Superheroes, villains, knights, horses. He’d arranged comic books on the bookcase below it, labels marking each shelf like his own personal library.
The care he’d taken tugged at something inside me, and I almost felt sorry for the abandoned objects without him here to care for them, each piece waiting for someone who’d never come home.
I shook my head and stared, struggling to match the obsessive neatness with the wild-haired, bushy-bearded guy who’d lived here.
“I’ll head into the kitchen,” Theo said. “Why don’t you do a sweep of the place? King Arthur’s sword might be stashed somewhere.”
With an amused huff, I wandered over to the wall.
Dust had settled on the shelves and shoulders of the figurines, but I didn’t dare touch anything out of respect. His prized possessions were organised in groups to keep the themes separate, and my eyes settled on the knights in chain-mail on horseback.
With Theo’s comment about King Arthur in the back of my mind, I turned and scanned the other walls, but the rest of the room was sparsely decorated. Leather couch. A couple of gaming posters and a chair that looked like it belonged in a racecar. Nothing interesting or useful.
I pushed my hair back from my eyes and locked onto the only other place I might find something. “I’ll check his bedroom,” I said. “He must keep his Renaissance costumes somewhere.”
“Gav would have loved knowing you were in his bedroom,” Theo said over his shoulder.
A smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. “I’d rather be in yours.”
He pinned me with a stare, putting a little heat into it and stirring my nerves. “Sadie.”
“Yes, I know. I’ll behave.” I left him before it could turn into something we didn’t have time for.
The air changed when I entered Gavin’s bedroom, turning cold and oppressive, dimming the lightness Theo had left in me.
He’d spent his last days here, the bedside table filled with medications and tissues. The covers were rumpled and pushed back, and the blinds were rolled shut, isolating him from the outside world. I absorbed the silence, reminded again of how lucky I was to survive the virus.
Before my thoughts could turn too bleak, I crossed the room and twisted the blinds open, the afternoon sun chasing away the darkness.
I faced the room, and my gaze locked onto the wall beside the door. I blinked, not quite believing what I was seeing. Electricity charged through me, and I let out a whoosh of air.
Another display—only this time, there were four racks bolted to the wall, each cradling a weapon.
Swords, a medieval axe, and even a mace.
I’d never seen anything like it in person, and my stomach swirled with nervous energy.
They had to be replicas, but every etched line gave the impression of quality craftsmanship.
With my heart in my throat, I approached the wall, carefully touching the blade of a lethal-looking axe. I gasped and yanked my finger back, checking the tip and making sure I hadn’t drawn blood.
“Everything okay in there?” Theo called from the kitchen.
“You need to come look.” With a breathy laugh, I pictured how Gavin would feel knowing his weapons were about to kill actual zombies—not in video games or in comics. Right here in real life, wandering the streets.
“What’s up?” Theo appeared in the doorway and gave me a curious glance.
Arms crossed, I nodded at the wall. “Check it out.”
As he stepped into the room and followed my gaze, I watched his features rather than the objects on the racks. His eyes met mine briefly. “I was joking about the sword,” he said. Then he moved closer and let out a low whistle. “Gav, you beautiful bastard.”
I laughed.
Whenever something positive happened, I reminded myself we could still create these moments for ourselves, even while society was falling apart. We could choose to be happy.
As Theo removed the sword and performed a shallow practice swing, I smiled and waited, in no rush to be anywhere else.