Epilogue
PARIS
“Tell me why I need this skill when I have a perfectly good chauffeur right here?” I eye the dashboard of the dusty SUV like it might bite me.
“Because you wanted to, remember?” Knox sits beside me in the passenger seat, his body angled toward mine. “And your chauffeur might be unconscious or busy shooting zombies someday.”
“Right. Cheerful thought.” Learning to drive wasn’t on my apocalypse bingo card, but here we are, on an empty stretch of road with nothing but time and a tank full of gas. “You really know how to motivate a girl.”
I’m doing this.
Telly would be proud.
“Okay, first step. Adjust your seat.” Knox’s voice is all business, but there’s that undercurrent of softness he reserves for me. At least I think he does.
“I think I’m good.” I wiggle in the driver’s seat, trying to tap the pedals.
“No, you’re not.” He reaches between my legs, searching for something beneath the seat. My breath catches as his knuckles brush my thigh. “Relax, princess. Just moving you up so you can actually reach the pedals.”
The seat jerks forward, and suddenly the dashboard and pedals are much closer.
“Better?” he asks.
“I can touch stuff now, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He smiles at me, the happiness in it spreading through my body.
It’s been three months since we escaped from the hellhole, and Knox’s face has filled out again, the bruises faded to nothing, leaving only the permanent marks of battles fought long before he met me.
I trace the line of his jaw with my eyes, memorizing him for the thousandth time.
“Earth to Paris.” He snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Focus on the lesson, not the teacher.”
“Can’t help it if the teacher’s distracting.”
“Concentrate on this.” He taps the gearshift between us. “P is for park. R is reverse. N is neutral. D is drive.”
“I know what the letters mean.” I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t living under a rock before the zombies came.”
“Knowing what they mean and knowing how to use them are different things.”
“So I put it in D and go?” I reach for the gearshift, but his hand covers mine.
“Not yet. First, you need to start the car.”
“It’s already running.”
The engine purrs beneath us, a steady mechanical heartbeat.
“Because I started it.” He dangles the key fob in front of me. “When we’re done, you’ll do it yourself.”
I slump back in the seat. “This is a lot of steps for something that’s supposed to give you freedom.”
“Freedom requires discipline.”
“That sounds like something you read on a motivational poster in a dentist’s office.”
He laughs, the sound warming me from the inside. “Maybe. Brake pedal is on the left. Gas on the right.”
I stretch my toes toward the pedals, tapping them experimentally. “Got it. Brake, then gas.”
“Perfect. Now, foot on the brake, move the gearshift to D.”
My fingers close around it, sliding it down until D lights up on the dashboard. The car hums, ready to obey my command like an obedient metal steed.
“Good.” Knox nods approvingly. “Now ease off the brake, and gently—and I mean gently—press the gas.”
I lift my foot from the brake, and the car immediately rolls forward. My heart leaps to my throat. “It’s moving!”
“That’s the idea. Now a little gas.”
I hit the pedal, and the car lurches forward like a startled animal. Knox’s hand shoots out to brace against the dashboard.
“Shit!” I slam on the brake, throwing us both forward against our seatbelts. “Sorry!”
But I’m not sorry. Not really.
I did that. ME. With just my foot, I made this massive metal thing move.
“I said gently.” He isn’t angry, just amused. “The car responds to the lightest touch. Like a nervous horse.”
“I’ve never ridden a horse either.” I blow a strand of hair from my face, frustrated.
“You’ll get it. Try again.”
I take a deep breath, my fingers flexing on the wheel. “Okay. I think we started on the wrong foot. First things first.” I pat the dashboard. “We need introductions. Hello there, I’m Paris. I’ll be your driver today, God help us both.”
He stifles a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “It’s just…”
“What?” I stroke the steering wheel. “I’m being polite to our mechanical friend here. Someone should. Poor thing’s probably been sitting abandoned for years.”
“What’s its name?”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I tilt my head, considering the dusty but sturdy SUV we’re sitting in. “Thumper.”
“Thumper?”
“Because of how it thumps along when I drive it.”
He chuckles. “Alright, introduce me properly to Thumper, then let’s try again.”
“Knox, this is Thumper. Thumper, Knox.” I move my lips closer to the middle of the steering wheel. “He’s bossy, but he means well.”
“I’m not bossy.”
“Says the man who just gave me a fifteen-minute lecture on the proper following distance.”
He crosses his arms. “It’s important.”
“We’re the only ones on the road!” I gesture at the empty stretch of asphalt ahead, the abandoned buildings on either side a testament to the world’s emptiness.
“Other survivors drive too.” He shifts in his seat, his expression softening. “But fine. Less lecture, more practice. Ease off the brake again.”
I do, and this time, when I tap the gas, I barely touch it. The car moves forward smoothly, picking up speed gradually.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “Keep it steady.”
For the first time, I’m the one controlling where we go.
Not Knox, not Gabriel, not the zombies.
Me.
A rush of something like joy, something like power, overcomes me.
“Good job, Thumper.” I hobble up and down on the seat. “We’re doing it!”
“Turn’s coming up,” Knox says. “Ease off the gas, brake gently, and turn the wheel in the direction you want to go.”
I follow his instructions, and the car glides around the bend with only minor wobbling. “I did it! I’m fucking driving!”
“Eyes on the road,” Knox says automatically, but he grins. “And yes, you are.”
I pick up speed, the wind rushing through the cracked windows. “How fast can Thumper go?”
“Let’s stick to basics for now.” Knox’s hand covers mine on the wheel. “Remember, we’re still in zombie territory.”
We drive for miles, Knox gradually introducing new skills. Three-point turns in a wide spot in the road. Parallel parking between two logs he drags into position. Reverse, which makes Thumper grumble in protest until I get the hang of it.
“See that tree line?” Knox points ahead. “Pull over there. Let’s take a break.”
I ease onto the shoulder, putting the car in park before taking my hands off the wheel. Pride swells in my chest. “How’d I do?”
“Not bad for your first time.” He leans across the console, kissing my cheek. “Natural talent.”
“Thanks.” I stretch my arms above my head. “Does this mean I get a gold star? A certificate? Special driving privileges?”
“Special privileges, definitely. Cars are useful for all kinds of things, you know.”
“Oh yeah?” I twist in my seat to face him fully. “Like what?”
“I can think of a few things.” His hand finds my knee, fingers drawing lazy patterns up my thigh. “Now that you’re healed…”
Heat that has nothing to do with the summer day flushes through me. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
It’s been too many weeks of careful touches and chaste kisses while my body mended. Weeks of Knox treating me like I might shatter if he breathed too hard.
Being so super extra careful, it was starting to be annoying.
“Depends.” His gaze drops to my lips. “What do you think I’m suggesting?”
I unbuckle my seatbelt, bending across the center console. “That Thumper might be a good place for activities that don’t involve driving.”
His mouth finds mine, three months of being together doing nothing to dull the electricity that sparks between us at every touch. I hang awkwardly across the gearshift, the position less romantic than movies.
“This is—” I break away, laughing as the steering wheel digs into my side. “Not as sexy as I imagined.”
“Backseat.” He already opens his door. “Much more practical.”
I follow his lead, climbing to the backseat from the front. He joins me, his larger frame making the space suddenly much smaller.
“Better?” He guides me into his lap so I straddle his thighs.
“Much.” I loop my arms around his neck, peering down at him. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself.” His hands settle on my hips, thumbs slipping beneath the hem of my tank top to find bare skin. “Proud of you today.”
“For not killing us with my driving?”
“For everything.” He leans up, dropping a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. “You know I love you, right?”
“I know.” I trace the line of his jaw, the stubble grazing my fingertips like tiny needles. “I love you. Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re real. For months, you were this mysterious figure I’d spot through my binoculars, like watching a movie character.”
His thumb caresses my cheek. “And now?”
“You’re solid. Real. Up close.” I study each of his eyes in turn. “Bino never captured the exact shade of your eyes.”
His finger traces the delicate skin beneath my eye, the callus on his thumb catching slightly. “Your eyes were the first thing I noticed when I woke up on your couch. Glitter everywhere, but those eyes—fuck, Paris.”
“Were you scared?”
“Cautious.” His hand travels down to cup the back of my neck. “Curious why someone who looked like you would risk her life for someone like me.”
“Best choice I ever made.”
Hot Guy isn’t so bad, right, Telly?
Outside, the world remains empty, quiet except for birdsong and the gentle rustle of leaves. Gabriel might be alive. Zombies still roam. But here, in this moment, with Knox, I’m not alone anymore.
I’m home.
He’s my home.
My world.
“Ready for your next lesson, princess?” Knox whispers against my lips, and the whole car warms by several degrees.
I draw him closer, finally—finally—exactly where I want to be, and I know…
Happiness isn’t a luxury reserved for the pre-apocalypse world.
Just like glitter isn’t.