lifted a bag of fresh carrots. “They aren’t wilted or moldy or anything.”
What little hope that had sprouted at the sound of the doorbell withered and died at the mention of Merdon’s name and the sight of those roots. Woodenly, I moved closer and peered into the box. There wasn’t a single bottle among the supplies.
My stomach churned sickeningly, and I fisted my hand so Emily wouldn’t notice the tremble.
“Looks like some decent food. Hopefully, he doesn’t try to leave anything tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
Her agreement didn’t sound that sincere.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you think we should do something to thank him for saving you last night?”
Weeks of hiding what I was really feeling was the only thing that kept my anger and frustration from showing.
“He carried me all the way to the house. You know how they are about touching. That much holding time was reward enough. Don’t encourage him, Emily. That’s the last thing we want.”
“I know. You’re right.”
She started putting the supplies away.
“Instead of making breakfast here, I thought we could go eat with James and Mary. You know how Mary is about company. She’d love it.”
“Sure,” I said, dying just a little more inside.
When Emily finished, we both bundled up and trudged outside. She paused and looked back at the house.
“Too bad it snowed,” she said.
I looked around, realizing I’d missed that little detail while I’d been cleaning.
“Why is that too bad? You miss seeing the bloodstains?”
“Of course not.” She pointed to our roof. “I just wanted to see your epic wipeout mark.”
“It wasn’t that impressive,” I mumbled, striding away.
She hurried to catch up to me.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of it. It must have been scary, falling like that.”
I noted a fey across the street and fixed a smile on my face as I waved at him.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?” There were too many ears to lie now and get away with it.
“Sure.” Emily smiled at the fey and waved as well.
The rest of the walk to James and Mary’s was made in silence. When we reached their house, Emily knocked twice then let herself in.
“Hello,” she called. “It’s Hannah and Emily.”
“Come in, come in,” James called. “You’re just in time. Ma’s cooking up a feast.”
I shucked my jacket and boots and followed Emily to the living room where James was comfortably seated in the chair he favored.
“Hannah, we’ve missed you,” he said.
I dutifully gave him a quick hug.
“I’m sorry about that. I got caught up in my own head again.”
He nodded in understanding.
“It’s an easy thing to do nowadays. Sit down. Ma said the food won’t be ready for a bit.”
“I think I’ll go help her,” Emily said, moving toward the kitchen.
The old couple had grabbed one of the more dated homes in the subdivision. The house hadn’t been converted to an open concept living plan like so many of the others, which suited the pair just fine. After fifty-some years together, they valued their separate space as much as they enjoyed spending time together.
“You don’t look like you’re holding up,” James said bluntly as I sat on the couch. “Dreaming again?”
“I never stopped.”
He shook his head in that way old men did when they didn’t like the news they were hearing.
“That’s a damn shame. A girl your age should have happier thoughts in her head. Damn hellhounds and infected. Who would have thought we’d end up in a world like this?”
“Not me.”
“Me, neither. Mary thought we’d get bored in our retirement.” He snorted. “I’d welcome bored just about now.”
We both knew that was a lie. While he didn’t like the threat of death that the hellhounds or infected brought, neither he nor Mary minded the visitors. It was probably more than they’d had before the earthquakes.
“It’s better not to play the ‘what-if’ game,” I said, dully. “That kind of thinking can mess with your head.”
James studied me for a long moment.
“Are you all right?”
“I’ve been up long enough to clean the entire kitchen, top to bottom. I’m just tired.”
He grunted in a way that was far too reminiscent of the fey.
The door to the kitchen swung open, and Mary bustled out with a stack of plates, which she immediately left on the dining room table so she could come give me a hug.
“I was so worried about you,” she said, smoothing her hands over my curls.
“I’m fine.”
She clucked her tongue, her doubt clearly showing in the look she gave me.
“I’m fine,” I repeated. “And I’m sorry for not showing up yesterday.