Page 66 of Uprising

Noah needed space; he needed to find his friends on his own. That doesn’t mean I willingly let him go like he thought. He barely made it five feet out of the cabin before I was following him.

My hands curl into fists as I watch Noah sit next to Jake. I have no right, but jealousy burns slow and sharp in my chest. It coils itself around my ribs as they sit next to each other. Noah’s too close, closer than I like. Why couldn’t he just sit across from him like he was five minutes ago before he started showing Molly some weird cheerleading moves?

I try to tell myself it’s nothing and that I have no reason to feel this way. But it doesn’t stick. All I can focus on is the way Jake leans closer to Noah.Too fucking close.

I step forward, my fingers twitching at my side, the restless energy burning a hole in my body. Why doesn’t Noah lean away? I could just simply walk over there and sit down. I’ll join the conversation, reminding Noah that he’s still mine, becausehe is still mine.

Noah stands up, his gaze shifting to the woods before taking off.

“Hey, I uh haven’t seen you around here,” someone said beside me. Ignoring the question, I move past the fire towards the woods.

The trees close in around me, branches hitting me as I move through. Why is he going this far out? Noah doesn’t have his mallet; he has nothing. And if a zombie comes out of nowhere, he’ll have nothing to defend himself with.

Anger spikes in my veins. How is he being so stupid?

I don’t stop following him until he comes across a small riverbank. Stopping near a tree, I hide most of my body behind it, waiting to see what his plans are. The river moves slowly and quietly. Only the pale touch of the moon leaves enough light that I can see the shadows, as well as the tension in his back. Noah hunches over the riverbank; I already know what he’s doing—he’s too deep into his own mind. He’s lost in thought that’s clawing at him, breaking that little spirit he has.

I want to go to him, to drag his body into mine, to remind him that he’s not alone. I’ve been here the entire time, watching and waiting. I don’t even remember why I’m hiding anymore. He doesn’t need those people—I’m his guy.

It’s then I see it. Off in the distance, the dull gleam of ruined flesh, the slow jerky movements.

My pulse hammers, my gaze bouncing between Noah and the dead thing.

He has nothing to fight with, no weapons, absolutely nothing to defend himself with. I roll my neck, letting out a shaky breath. I’ve stayed away for a reason, one I can think of. So when my feet move before I can stop them, I ignore the ping of guilt of letting him walk off in the first place. Branches beneath my feet crack, twigs catching on my boots. The rush of outing myself gives me enough adrenaline that when I tighten my grip around my knife's handle, I throw the blade at the zombie's head, embedding it in his forehead. The zombie crumples to the ground, unmoving.

My gaze stays on the corpse, waiting for the thing to move. Only it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t; the knife is rooted into the dead man's head. He’s not going to come back, not again.

Suddenly the world feels too small, the air being sucked out, leaving my heart pounding in my ears. My hands curl into fists, my breath sharp and ragged, but none of it matters.

I feel his eyes on me. There’s no undoing this now. I’ve outed myself, and it’s too late to hide now. My body goes cold, a creeping dread that wraps around my ribs. I wasn’t supposed to let him see me, not yet. And now there’s no hiding, no pretending I’m not here. My throat locks up as I lift my gaze to his.

“Oh, you son of a bitch.”

CHAPTER40

Noah

“Oh, you son of a bitch,” the words fly from my mouth. I knew I felt someone's eyes on me since I left that stupid cabin. I coughed it up to just missing him. I should’ve known it was him.

Too many mixed feelings hit me at once. My heart races, adrenaline thrumming in my veins as I fight the urge to jump into his arms. Reed is here, standing before me, alive and—fuck, he’s here.

I take a step towards him, barely registering the trembles in my body. Anger forces its way through the happiness I feel. He’s here. He’s been following me, watching me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” My voice is low and rough. Emotions threatening to spill over.

Reed doesn’t answer; he only stares at me, making everything feel worse. It shouldn’t hurt this much. I told myself I was doing the right thing; I had to leave. But that didn’t stop the crushing absence I felt the moment I walked out the door. He could have stopped me; he could have said anything, and I would have broken and come back. Instead, he followed me.

Anger surges through me; it’s hot and uncomfortable. It burns away any rational thought until all that’s left is a sheer need to make him feel the hurt that I’ve been feeling.

Before I can think clearly, my finger curls around the rough, solid rock I had picked up before he showed up. I throw it at him.

It cuts through the air with force, hitting him in the chest. It’s not enough. Not nearly enough, especially when Reed just looks like it was a fly that hit him.

“We’re back to your rocks again? I thought we moved on from those to anactualweapon.”

My mouth falls open. Out of everything in the world he could say to me, he decides my rocks are the focus?

I turn around, picking up another rock before throwing it at his stupid head this time. My chest heaves as I bend down, gathering up more before throwing every single rock at him. The sound of them hitting dirt, the trees, everywhere but him. My pulse roars in my ears so that I can barely focus on anything but making him feel the slight bit of pain I do.

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