25. Long Goodbyes
Long Goodbyes
The morning dawned, crisp and painfully beautiful.
Fresh snow glittered across the ranch, its surface undisturbed save for the tracks running between the barn and the farmhouse. The mountains stood brilliant against a cloudless sky—the kind of morning Josie's father would have declared perfect for drinking coffee by the fire.
"If we find one more crate, you're going to insist it fits," Cara said, shoving another duffel into the back of the Beast.
Jay just grinned. "And I'll be right."
She laughed, shaking her head. "You are impossible."
"And yet, here we are."
Jay watched her instead of answering.
"What?"
"You've got hay in your hair."
"I do not."
"You definitely do."
She reached up instinctively. "Where?"
He stepped closer. "Right..."
Instead of brushing away the imaginary hay, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek.
Cara giggled involuntarily. "Jay!"
"What?"
She swatted his shoulder, laughing harder now. "We're supposed to be working."
"I am working."
"No, you're distracting me."
"I can multitask."
"Oh, I know you think you can."
He kissed her neck, lingering just long enough to make her shiver. She shoved him back with both hands, cheeks flushed pink from more than the cold.
"Stop."
"But you're cute when you laugh."
She rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous."
"And yet..." He pulled her gently back against him. "...you love me anyway."
She rested her forehead against his chest, smiling despite herself. "I might've questioned that decision once or twice."
"Only twice?"
"Maybe three times."
Jay put a hand to his chest. "I'm wounded."
"You'll survive."
He wrapped his arms around her waist. "I hope so."
For a long moment they held each other, the world shrinking to the space between them as the ranch stirred to life; A horse nickered from the pasture. One of the goats protested loudly, breakfast apparently taking too long. Smoke drifted lazily from the farmhouse chimney.
Cara sighed. "I wish we had another day."
"So do I."
Her smile faded. "You think Seth's really going to leave?"
Jay glanced toward the farmhouse. Through the kitchen window, he could see Seth at the table with Josie, their heads bent close in quiet conversation while Layla colored beside them.
"He hasn't smiled like that in months," Cara said, following his gaze.
"I know," Jay said. "He's going through the motions of leaving."
"But you don't think he will?" Cara asked.
Jay just shook his head. "His heart isn't in it. Not anymore."
Cara's voice softened. "I've been watching him. When he looks at Josie..." She searched for the words. "...it's like he's remembering how to live again."
Jay looked toward the house once more. "I remember that feeling."
She slipped her hand into his. "When?"
"The first time I saw you smile after everything."
Cara rested her head against his shoulder. "You think they will?"
Jay watched Seth through the window one last time. The man sat listening to Layla with complete attention, smiling at something she'd said while Josie looked on with quiet affection.
"If anyone deserves a second chance..." His voice nearly vanished into the cold morning air. "...it's those two."
Seth stood at the edge of the bed, folding his last spare shirt into his pack. Each item was a familiar weight: socks, a sharpening stone, the clothes he'd worn for months. Everything had its place, a logic he clung to because it was the only thing that made sense when his own chest felt so gutted.
He cinched one strap tight, then paused, his hands resting on the canvas bag.
Just stay.
The word was a physical blow, loud enough to drown out a week's worth of logic. Stay. Images flood through him: waking up beside Josie, Layla laughing as she gathered eggs, the simple work of mending a fence in the cold sun. A whole life, right here, waiting to be lived. A life that wasn't his.
His jaw flexed. He couldn't—no matter how badly every selfish part of him wanted to.
A soft knock barely brushed the door before it opened, and Josie slipped inside, closing it quietly behind her. Neither of them spoke. The silence between them had long since stopped being awkward; it had become familiar, comfortable. Dangerous.
Seth looked back down at his bag, pretending to adjust a buckle already fastened.
"You came to make sure I packed?" he asked, forcing a crooked smile.
She leaned against the closed door, arms folded loosely across her chest. "I came to make sure you didn't sneak out without saying goodbye."
His smile faltered. "I wasn't going to."
"I know."
Another silence settled over them before she crossed the room slowly and stopped beside him.
"So..." she whispered.
"So."
She glanced at the half-packed bag, then back at him. "You really have to go." Not a question.
Seth's chin dipped once. "Yeah."
She swallowed hard. "I guess I knew the answer before I asked."
He let out a quiet breath. "I have people waiting for me. I promised I'd come back to them."
"I know."
"But..." His voice caught.
"But?"
He met her eyes. "I wish I didn't have to."
The words settled in the air between them enough to make her eyes glisten. She reached for him first, her fingers slipping into his hand and fitting there so naturally it seemed unfair.
"I've spent a long time convincing myself not to need people," she admitted. "It came easier that way."
Seth ran his thumb across her knuckles. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For showing up."
A tear escaped, despite the smile tugging at her lips. "I don't regret it."
His chest tightened. "That almost makes this worse."
She laughed softly through watery eyes. "It really does."
They stood in silence, hands intertwined, memorizing each other: the roughness of his palms against the warmth of hers, the tiny scar across her thumb, the faint freckles across her nose he'd only noticed from spending so many mornings watching her before she woke.
"I keep trying to tell myself this isn't goodbye," Seth said.
She looked up at him. "What does your heart say?"
He smiled sadly. "My heart's an idiot."
Her laugh broke into a sniffle halfway through. "Mine too."
He reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You deserve someone who can promise to be here tomorrow."
"I don't want guarantees." She laid a hand over his heart.
"I know."
She stepped closer until no space remained between them. "I forgot what it felt like to want something," she whispered. "And then you walked in and I remembered how to want a tomorrow."
He rested his forehead against hers. "You did the same for me."
Neither of them noticed the tears anymore. Seth cupped her face gently.
"If this world gives me even half a chance..."
She nodded before he could finish. "You'll come back."
"I'll come back."
Josie broke. The quiet composure she'd worn since he arrived shattered as she wrapped both arms around him, holding on with everything she had. Seth held her just as tightly. Neither wanted to let go first.
Minutes slipped by. Outside, voices drifted through the house—someone laughed, a screen door creaked. Life continued while theirs hung suspended.
Eventually, Josie leaned back just enough to look at him.
"You know what Layla asked me this morning?"
He shook his head.
"She asked if I thought you'd become part of the family."
His throat tightened. "What did you tell her?"
Josie smiled sadly. "I told her... I hoped so."
Seth kissed her then. He pulled away, forcing himself to grab the rucksack. Every step through the farmhouse felt like a betrayal.
Layla burst into the kitchen, her socked feet slapping against the weathered boards.
"Seth!"
He barely had time to brace himself before she crashed into him, her arms wrapping around his waist with the stubborn force of a child who refused to let go.
He let out a soft, fractured laugh, as if the sound itself didn't want to break.
"Easy there, peanut."
"You said morning," Layla mumbled against his jacket. "Morning came."
"It did."
She squeezed harder, as if her grip could rewrite their plans.
"You have to go now?"
He glanced at Jay, who had turned to give them the illusion of privacy.
"Yeah."
Layla didn't answer. She just held on.
After a long stretch of quiet, Seth knelt in front of her and brushed a loose braid back over her shoulder with careful fingers, the motion gentle enough to slow the world.
"Do you remember what I told you?" he asked.
Layla sniffled, then nodded.
"Keep practicing with the bow."
"And?"
"Listen to Mom."
"And?"
She rolled her eyes dramatically through fresh tears, as if the performance might convince the universe to change its mind.
"Don't wander into the woods by myself."
"There it is."
A tiny smile flickered across her face—bright, then gone.
"Will you come back?"
Seth looked at her for a long second, searching for something sturdier than hope, a promise he could keep without lying.
"There isn't anything that could stop me from trying."
It wasn't the answer she wanted, but it was the only one he had.
Layla threw her arms around his neck again, and Seth wrapped his hands around her back, anchoring her in place for as long as he could.
"You'd better," she said, her voice breaking at the edges.
"I'll try."
When she finally let go, Liz, stepped forward from the doorway.
She hugged Seth tightly, startling them both with the sudden steadiness of it, with a gratitude that couldn't wait for the right words.
"I owe you more than I can ever repay," Liz said into his shoulder.
"You don't owe me anything," he answered, his voice rough around the edges.
Liz's smile turned sad, but she stepped back without arguing again. Pride and relief sat side by side on her face.
Josie remained on the porch, motionless, watching. Taking one step closer felt like it would make the goodbye more real than it already threatened to be.
Cara crossed the yard quietly, careful not to disturb the fragile moment. Reaching Josie, she slipped something into her hand without ceremony: a folded map.
Josie looked from the map to Cara. “Like the one Seth drew yesterday?"
Cara nodded, a warm smile touching her lips even as worry shadowed her eyes. "He wants to explain it."
Seth walked over, unfolded the map across the porch railing,. Josie immediately noticed its clarity. It was nothing like the vague sketch Seth had given Cade weeks ago, a collection of missing landmarks and estimated distances.
This map held details.
Roads and creeks were traced carefully, old logging trails marked, and bridges to avoid were noted.
Paths that offered less risk were highlighted, routes designed to keep people from stepping straight into danger.
Places to hide if the dead gathered too close were indicated.
Notes filled the margins—small, deliberate reminders: where water ran clean, where it was safe to stop overnight, which paths might hold after the weather changed, where a collapsed bridge could never be trusted again.
Near the center, a circle—dark ink, gone over multiple times, checked and rechecked until it stopped being uncertain.
Cabin.
Not an area. Not a guess. The exact location.
Josie lifted her gaze. "You trust us that much?"
Seth met her eyes without flinching. "I do."
Jay leaned closer, curiosity finally drawing his attention to the map. "You didn't even give Cade that."
Seth folded his arms, his posture tightening with something like pain and restraint. "No."
"Why?" Jay asked.
"Because if somebody took Cade," Seth explained, "they could've forced it out of him."
He looked back at Josie, his voice lower, steadier. "I'm giving this to you because I know you'll protect it."
Josie took the map with both hands and folded it carefully, as if its creases were fragile seams.
"If things ever go bad here..." Seth said, his eyes on Josie's face, "...don't stay because you're stubborn."
Josie's smile trembled at the edges. "I am stubborn."
"I've noticed."
His expression softened in spite of everything. "If food runs out, if too many dead reach this place, if people become the bigger threat,"
He nodded toward the folded map. "Come find us."
Her eyes filled again, and she made no attempt to hide it. "You'd take us in?"
Cara answered before Seth could second-guess himself. "In a heartbeat."
Jay added, simple and absolute, "No questions asked."
Liz's hand rose to her mouth, and tears spilled freely now, unhidden. "You've barely known us."
Cara only smiled, steady and honest. "We know good people when we see them. That's enough now."
A heavy, respectful silence settled over the group, no one ready to break it, to be the one to finalize the leaving,
Josie finally stepped off the porch, crossing the space with purpose to stop directly in front of Seth. Neither cared that everyone watched; the world could look on, but this moment belonged only to them.
Josie reached up and picked a piece of lint from the shoulder of his jacket.
"I guess this is it," she said, her voice careful.
He nodded. "I guess it is."
She looked at him as if to memorize every line of his face before the road swallowed him. "You survive. That's all I'm asking."
Seth's smile came slow, soft at the corners. "I know."
"I'm holding you to that."
"And you..." His eyes flicked toward the ranch. "...keep this place standing."
"I'll try."
He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folding knife. The wooden handle had been worn smooth by years of use, carried through many years.
"My dad gave me this when I was sixteen," he said.
Josie frowned, relief and grief warring in her expression. "Seth..."
"It's been with me everywhere," he added, offering it without pressure. "So a part of me stays."
He placed it in her hand and gently closed her fingers around it, guiding her grip until she held on with certainty.
Josie shook her head, tears finally winning. "I can't take this."
"I want you to."
Her eyes dropped to the knife, and she tightened her fist around it, choosing the burden because she understood what it meant.
"I'll keep it safe," she said.
"I know you will.”
For one suspended moment, neither moved. Then Josie stepped forward and wrapped both arms around him, fierce, as if her grip alone could defy what was coming.
Seth held her just as tightly. His eyes closed, and he let himself stand in her embrace, letting the goodbye stretch as long as it could before snapping back into reality.
When they finally pulled apart, they stayed close enough to breathe the same air, swallowing words they didn't trust themselves to say.
Jay climbed into the driver's seat.
Seth shouldered his pack, then climbed into the drivers seat of beast.
The SUVs rumbled to life.
As the truck rolled slowly down the long dirt drive, everyone stood motionless on the edge of the yard. Liz held Layla with one arm, steadying her. Josie clutched the folded map and the worn pocketknife against her chest like a lifeline.
No one waved. The decision felt wiser than pretending it could change anything.
They watched until dust settled in the tire tracks, until the engine faded into the trees, until the ranch returned to silence.