Chapter 3
There’s a little orange cat outside the window, sitting in the rain.
“Think he’s hungry?” Emma asks. “He looks skinny.”
“We don’t have anything for him. There are mice out there. He’ll be okay,” Addison replies.
“Lots of cats around here. I saw a whole colony on my way in,” Wyatt cuts in. “We can give ‘em the leftovers from breakfast tomorrow.”
Emma’s interest doubles. “There are leftovers?”
“Just organ meats and bones, but cats will eat anything.”
“Won’t they choke on the bones?”
“I wouldn’t give it to them if they would.”
Addison hates that her daughter is talking to this stranger, but there isn’t much she can do about it. It would be rude to force Emma to ignore him, and he hasn’t done anything outwardly suspicious yet.
Yet.
“Can we go with him to feed the cats tomorrow, Momma?”
Addison sighs. “Maybe. Now go get ready for bed. It’s getting dark.”
Reluctantly, Emma leaves the window and disappears down the hall.
Wyatt’s the next to vanish in the opposite direction with a mumbled comment about being tired before she can tell him goodnight.
Addison isn’t sure what to think about him.
All she knows for certain is that he’s been too kind.
Offered shelter, food, and hunting lessons.
None of that comes for free. The world didn’t work that way before it all went downhill.
Not that she’s got a solid grasp on what used to happen outside the compound walls.
She’s fairly certain men are the same regardless of location, though.
They both know she has nothing to offer except herself, and she’s decided she isn’t going to wait around for him to make a move.
The deal they made earlier might be hindering his original plan if he’s true to his word.
Being too eager to get in her pants would ensure she pulls that trigger when the time comes, which means the minute she fails to do so… she’s fair game.
On the flip side, he could spring it on her tomorrow as a way to win her over and play it off like he’s truly interested.
She needs to maintain some semblance of control over the situation. If that means she offers her body as payment to avoid having that payment taken later, then so be it.
At least she can distract him from Emma if she’s keeping him busy. Never mind that Wyatt hasn’t given her a single reason to jump to such conclusions. He is guilty until proven innocent as far as she’s concerned. To think otherwise would be dangerous.
One thing she’s learned about the apocalypse is that people operate in predictable ways. First comes panic, and then comes sex.
She can’t count how often she had to shield Emma’s eyes from the sight of people going at it like animals out in the open on their way here.
The couple in the diner off the freeway. The woman bent over the table in front of glass windows while the man behind her yanked a fistful of her blonde hair back.
The couple in the alley up against the dirty walls, blood from some earlier scuffle coating their skin.
The group in the gas station, having an orgy right in front of the expired milk.
In between death and chaos, every quiet space has been filled with people trying to find meaning for their last days on earth. She’s waiting for Wyatt to make it clear that she owes him for allowing them to remain in this house, and that he intends to fuck her like it’s his last day alive, too.
If she offers first, then she could convince herself it’s her choice.
Just like she convinced herself, it was her choice every time Vincent pushed himself between her legs, trying to get a head start on repopulating the earth from the very first night they said their vows.
That has always been the mission, after all.
She was raised to bring forth a new generation once the current one was cleansed from the planet, and no one ever let her forget it.
Being pregnant and throwing up every five minutes might be a turnoff for Wyatt, but there’s not much she can do about that.
He told her that there’s no one waiting for him left alive, and if he’s still grieving, that might put the odds in her favor if she can offer him a distraction.
That line of thinking sounds twisted even in her head, and briefly, she reconsiders.
Maybe giving it another day or two would be smarter before jumping to conclusions.
Her bravery might crumble before then, though. She must harness it before it slips through her fingers.
She stops at Emma’s room first, needing to make sure she’s settled before following through on her plan.
“Can we trust him?” Emma asks, at the bedroom window, looking for the cat again.
“I think it’s smart to be cautious until we all know each other better.” Addison points to the bed. “In. The cat will be there tomorrow.”
“He likes cats. That’s good, right? People who like animals can’t be bad?”
She smiles. “He does, and there’s some truth to that theory, but we can’t know for sure.”
“He shared his food with us.”
They just met, and her daughter is already trying to latch onto this stranger.
It only highlights how starved she’s been for attention when her own father rarely offered her a sentence that didn’t come covered in annoyance or anger.
“I want you to listen to me, okay? We have to be smart, and that means we trust no one but each other until they prove to us that it’s safe to do so. Understand?”
Emma nods. “What if Dad comes back and hurts him? He won’t be happy someone else is here.”
“Wyatt can take care of himself. I wouldn’t worry about that.” She tugs the blanket up higher, pressing a kiss to Emma’s forehead before blowing a raspberry into her neck until she laughs. “Now go to sleep.”
“Can I help tomorrow when you work on the fence?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll be good. I’ll stay out of the way.”
“It isn’t you that I’m worried about, sweetheart. Soon. You can help soon, but for now, I need you to stay here where it’s safe.”
She tells her that she needs to speak to Wyatt, but she’ll be back soon, and not to come looking. Then Addison leaves her child behind and detours into the bathroom. Washes her face and pushes her breasts up. Sniffs her armpits and takes a washcloth to them just in case.
She can do this. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it won’t be the last. Sex is only a means to an end. A practical solution. An orgasm or two might ease some of the tension in this house.
Her knuckles tap on the wood, and her stomach flips when he opens it.
“What’s up? Did something happen?” He tilts his head with a slight scowl.
“No. Everything’s fine. Can I come in?”
He stares at her a beat before stepping out of the way.
The door clicks shut behind her, and she’s never felt so trapped, but she’s done this to herself. He didn’t ask her to come here. He stands across from her with his arms folded. Waiting.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” she begins.
“You don’t have to keep saying that.”
“I’d like to pay you back.”
He squints as if she’s not making sense.
She steps forward, and he steps back as if they’re doing a poor imitation of the tango. His attention flits to the cleavage she shoved up before coming here, and he averts his eyes like she burned his retinas.
It’s not the reaction she expected. Clearly, Vincent was wrong to worry about her cheating when she’s such a mess that she can’t even throw herself at someone.
“The toothpaste in the bathroom is still good.” She’s trying to make it clear she got rid of any lingering vomit scent without actually saying it. “Minty.”
“I don’t think that expires,” he replies, watching her like she’s speaking another language.
She takes another step forward, and the backs of his knees hit the bed, prompting his ass to meet the mattress.
“It’s the size of a grape,” she blurts out. “An almond, maybe.”
“What is?”
“The baby. Small, barely there.”
He scratches the back of his neck. “You came here to tell me your baby is grape-sized?”
She can’t tell if he’s being willfully oblivious, but all she can do is double down. “So you know you won’t have to worry about it. It’ll be like it’s not there.”
“Why would I wanna pretend it’s not there? Are you sure you’re okay?”
She’s getting frustrated, assuming he’s bullshitting her to see how far she’ll go. “If you want to….” She makes a vague gesture to his crotch. “You won’t have to worry about the baby because it’s only a small almond. That’s what I’m saying.”
His eyes blow wide with more panic than she’s ever seen, and that’s saying something considering she spent the last few months watching the world end.
He’s up off the bed and backing into the wall a second later.
Tension hangs thick, catching them in a moment that’ll determine how everything else goes like flies in a spider web.
His eyes flicker down to the tops of her breasts again, in a move that might be against his own will if the guilt that crosses his face a moment later is any indication. Her gut flips at knowing she was right. He does expect something from her.
He does want to shove her onto this bed and take payment for all that kindness she knew was too good to be true.
“It’s cold in here. Are you cold, too?” An old throw blanket is tossed at her from a distance, nearly smacking her in the face as she tries to make sense of what’s happening.
Addison coughs from the dust cloud it kicks up.
“You can take that with you,” he continues. “It’ll only get colder tonight when the temperature drops.”
Perhaps he’s a bit more oblivious than she originally assumed, and she’ll have to come right out and say it.
“I think we should have sex, Wyatt.”
“Is that what you think?”
“If you’re on board for that idea, of course. Consent should never be overlooked.”
He runs a hand over his face with a sigh, sending her an exhausted glare. “And why do you think we should do that?”
“Well, things are awkward between us.”
“That they are.”
“And, to be honest, I feel a bit uncertain about your intentions.”