Until the World Stops - L.A. Witt Page 0,60

us both sane while everything was a mess.

But I wasn’t going to lie—I couldn’t help wishing it was real.

Chapter 17

Casey

“It’s kind of ironic, you know?” I leaned back on the couch, one arm behind my head as I absently played with Tilly’s tail with my other hand. “I’ve spent most of my adult life wishing I could be at home. When I’m at work, I’m counting down until I can go home. When I’m on cruise.” I groaned. “Oh my God, I can’t wait to get home.”

Tristan laughed halfheartedly. “But then you suddenly can’t go anywhere, and you want to get the fuck out of the house.”

“Yes. Exactly. I would seriously cut off a limb just to be someplace other than work or home.” I turned to him. “You must be going out of your mind.”

“Eh, it could be worse. I could still be going to the base.” He feigned gagging. “Losing the paycheck and all that shit sucked, but I gotta say—I do not miss the Navy.”

I made a face. “Yeah. About the only thing that keeps me sane is knowing that sooner or later, either I’ll get transferred or Chief will.”

“There is that.” He rubbed his eyes. “Being home all the time, though—it really is tiring. And now they’re talking about this lasting through the summer, or maybe even longer.” Lowering his hand, he turned to me. “Another couple of months of this, and I might suggest we move to another apartment or something just for the change of scenery.”

I laughed dryly. “You and me both. Ugh. We should get out of here for a while.”

“And go where?” Tristan sighed. “Places that are open are full of people who don’t understand how pandemics work. Everything else worth going to is closed.”

I thought about it, then grinned. “Not everything else.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I gently picked up Tilly off my lap. “Get your keys. I know where we can go.”

Tristan looked a little dubious but shrugged. “Hell. Why not? Let’s go.”

I’d been coming to these remote beaches for peace and quiet ever since I’d moved to Maine. More than once, I’d come here to escape Tristan.

Gotta say, I never thought I’d be grabbing on to one of these strips of rocky sand to kill some pandemic-induced cabin fever, never mind happily doing that with Tristan.

But here I was. Here we were. And it didn’t feel as weird as I thought it would, taking him to a place I’d gone to get away from him so many times. Maybe because it wasn’t the exact same beach, but it still seemed like I should have been uncomfortable letting him into a place that was, on some level, mine.

It didn’t feel weird. It felt right.

We’d driven about an hour from Providence Point until we hadn’t seen another car for miles. At my direction, Tristan took a random turnoff, followed it toward the water, and took another turnoff. From there, the truck bumped down a dirt road to a state park I’d never heard of with a boat launch that probably hadn’t been used in years. He parked, and we got out, left the truck by the boat ramp, and wandered down to the shore.

Across the inlet, there were a few houses. Maybe year-round homes. Maybe vacation rentals. It was hard to say, though at least one had a car parked outside.

Some boats bobbed on the water beside a couple of buoys. I didn’t know if they were pleasure boats, or if they were used for fishing or lobstering, but they weren’t in use right now.

There was no one else here, and that wasn’t a surprise. Everything was empty these days. Parking lots. Streets. Restaurants. Tristan said even the grocery stores barely had any customers most of the time. It all felt dead and haunted, like how I’d imagined the cities and towns must have been after the plague had swept through in The Stand. Well, minus the corpses everywhere, anyway.

Down here at this beach, there wasn’t another human being in sight except for Tristan, but it didn’t feel deserted. Just quiet and peaceful. Like everything was the way it was supposed to be. Taking in a deep breath of salty air through my nose, I could almost convince myself the world was normal right now.

Tristan leaned down, picked up a smooth, round rock, then straightened up and, with a flick of his wrist, skipped the rock three times across the water’s surface.

“Nice,” I said. “I’ve never been able to get them to skip.”

“Just takes practice.