Page 24 of When the Living Fall

Even with the window cracked, stale air clings to my skin. Buddy’s large head rests against my leg, where he fits his entire large body on the seat between me and Emily. I glance sideways, catching her gaze for a heartbeat before she looks away, her lips pressed tight. She doesn’t realize it, but just having her this close winds my tension tighter, an edge of frustration and something else I can’t quite name building with each mile. All I can do is stare out the window, counting down the minutes until we reach the colony and, hopefully, some kind of relief from this suffocating, infuriating journey.

I have half a mind to open the door, roll out, and take my chances with the hot asphalt. But I won’t do it, despite how crazy this whole situation is driving me.

To be fair, a lot of people drive me crazy, but she drives me to a whole different level. One where I can’t decide whether I want to push her as far from me as possible or pull her close and never let her go. The things she’s said about her colony make me want to waltz in there with Debbie as my dance partner and kill every single last person who made her feel unwanted, unseen, Tut that probably wouldn’t sit well with her—not with a friend of hers still inside those walls. The one this whole mess is about. The friend she risked her life for, going back into that place to drop off insulin instead of washing her hands of them all like she should have done.

That friend doesn’t know how lucky she is. To have someone who wouldn’t leave her, even when it would’ve been easier to walk away. Maybe, just maybe, one day I’llhave someone like that. Or maybe not. I could settle for killing everyone who’d ever think of leaving me. Then no one could ever leave.

“What are you thinking about back there?” William’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts, and I look up to catch his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Eyes on the road, William.”

“‘William’? Okay, something’s definitely up. I’m pulling the car over.”

“No!” Emily and I exclaim in unison. It’s no surprise we’re on the same page there. She wants this ride to end so Griffin can get the help he needs while I want it over with, so I can either walk away and never look back—or maybe take her with me and bury myself so deep inside her no one will ever find me again. Fuck, I can’t decide.

Then Emily’s voice breaks, soft but sharp. “Why are you pulling at your hair again? You’re going to be bald before long, and…I quite like your hair.”

My hands drop to my lap, now aware of what I’d been doing. I didn’t even notice. I’d ended up tearing most of my hair out after Nathan left me for dead. It took the combined persistence of both Griffin and William to bring me back from the brink until I stopped hurting myself as much and turned that anger toward hurting others instead. Not innocent people, only those who deserved it. Rotters and dregs. The occasional asshole. Once it was someone wearing a tie. Who in this world wears a tie anymore?

My hair had grown out past my shoulders by the time Emily danced her way into our lives. It’s still long now, brushing past my shoulders. Or, well, sort of. Right now, it’s a tangled mess, half pulled out of the ponytail I had it in.

Shit.

I tug the hair tie free, working my fingers through the knotted strands to smooth it back down. I’m not sure what to make of the fact that Emily noticed—that she’s payingenough attention to catch me in these self-destructive habits when I don’t even notice I’m doing it myself. It stirs something uneasy in me, something I’m not used to. Not only noticing my hair pulling, but she showed concern when she realized I was hurt from my tumble down the cliff. All I did was twist my ankle and add some scrapes to my rugged good looks, but still. She noticed.

She shouldn’t be doing that. Or maybe she should. I don’t know. Dammit, I don’t know anything.

Once my hair is half-sorted and I’m satisfied that I somewhat won the battle with the wild strands, I twist it back up and secure it with the hair tie…until it breaks a moment later. “Fucking hell.” I slam my fist in the back of the driver’s seat in front of me, causing the car to swerve.

“Watch it, will you? I’d like to get us all there in one piece.” William scolds me through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, yeah.” I fall back against my seat, resigned and defeated. I’m slipping back into my internal self-destruction when a slight movement shifts my eagle-eyes to the source of my torment.

Without a word, Emily tugs her own hair tie free and holds it out to me. Buddy lifts his head and sniffs it before setting his chin on top of his paws again and licking his chops.

My heart slams against my ribcage when I eye her small offering, which is far bigger than she knows. When I hesitate, she raises an eyebrow and shakes the hair tie as though I didn’t see it, until finally I reach out and hook my finger through, claiming the object. She returns to looking out the window again, but I can’t stop watching her. My internal battle is turning into an outright war, and I don’t know if I want to set the world on fire or pick her some damn flowers. Not even the lavender roses she likes, but the one that smells like death. Griffin told me about that conversation with her. Sounded like a fun flower.

Once I tie off my hair and I’m satisfied it won’t explode again, I decide to pass the time with a sequel to my previous internal battle. I always win these. I also always lose them.

The silence in the car is so heavy it’s suffocating. My fingers twitch with the need to keep moving. I tap them against my thigh, fidgeting while I scan the worn patch on my jeans. It’s a small spot on the right leg that’s getting thinner and will soon turn into a hole. Huh, it wasn’t like that a few days ago. What a shame—it’s my favorite pair.

I’m about to roll down the window to get some fresh air—or maybe throw myself out of it, still undecided—when I catch a glimpse of Emily out of the corner of my eye. Her head bobs forward, jerks back, then gets tossed to the side while William navigates yet another obstacle in the road. Broken-down cars, dead bodies, rotters—one time, there was even a boat. My lips try to quirk into a smile when I think about someone trying to outrun some rotters in a boat on land. Clearly, they didn’t get very far.

After another minute of watching Emily’s head lurch around and fearing she’s going to kill her neck in her sleep, I can’t take it anymore. I unbuckle my seatbelt.

The locks on the car door snap shut. “You’re not jumping out,” William says in a deadpan voice, his eyes on the road.

“Shhh, you’ll wake her.” I ease Buddy down to the floorboard, but after a slight whine of refusal, he settles into a comfortable position. Then I unbuckle Emily’s seatbelt. Ignoring William’s muttered protest, I draw her down toward me until her head rests in my lap. After buckling both of us back in, I adjust her until she’s settled, securing her head and her neck. She lets out a soft sigh, her face relaxed, and I find my own tight muscles relaxing when I look down at her. She looks so peaceful sleeping in my lap.

Without thinking, my fingers find their way into her hair, gently combing through the strands. It’s soft, finer than I’d expected, and somehow the rhythmic motion calms me. I’llhave to find her a brush sometime. Not that she needs it, but also, she needs it.

While watching her sleep, anger swarms me. Not at her—no, this time it’s for him. For my brother. For the twisted mess he left behind in me. He’s the reason I can’t get past my own issues, the reason everything that should be simple with her feels like chaos. He infected every part of my life with a single action, and he did it all with joy. It shouldn’t be like this at all.

I can’t seem to string together the right words when she’s awake, but here, with her asleep and nestled against me and I’m touching her with such ease? Everything seems quieter, clearer, and all that’s left is the desire to pull her behind a tree and have my way with her again. I wonder if there are many trees outside her colony.

I’m notsure how much time slips by before William’s voice breaks the silence. “I’m pulling over for a bathroom break.”

Griffin, looking half-awake and as though he made love to a cactus, rubs his eyes from the passenger seat. “How are we on gas?”

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