Page 27 of Dating After the End of the World
I twist my hips back and forth, trying to roll him off me, but he’s too heavy, and it just results in me slowly dry humping him while he pins me down with even more force.
Blake stares at me like a lion ready to go in for the final kill. Part of him hardens against my body, instantly changing his demeanor. The smoldering look on his face fades and his cheeks flush, betraying the truth of what he would like to do to me.
“Are you done?” he asks, trying to keep his composure.
I twist and squirm under his weight a few more times, fighting until I have nothing left to give. “I guess I better be, before you finish on my leg,” I wheeze.
He coyly smiles, releasing me from his death grip. Blake stands and pulls me up with him, forcefully drawing my head into his chest. Lowering his mouth to my ear, he whispers, “Maybe next time.”
His hot breath on my skin sends a wave of warmth through my body. I push off him, creating a few feet of distance. The look on his face is like that of a cat who’s decided to let the mouse go, just so it can catch it again later. I groan and stomp my foot.
Blake turns and heads for the truck, tossing a cocky grin over his shoulder. “Later, Doomsday! I’ll be sure to bring you back something pretty,” he teases.
I reach down and pick up a clump of dirt, then hurl it at him. It doesn’t reach Blake, and he doesn’t even notice it.
My father wraps his arm around me and pulls me into the crux of his shoulder. “You did good, Casey. Now let’s go work on making you great.”
Defeated, I let out a heavy sigh and nod, knowing he’s right. I am rusty, and rusty isn’t going to cut it if I want to beat Blake, and right now, that’s all I want to do.
Chapter 12
Leaves crunch beneath our feet as we walk the property I once called home. But I guess that’s what it is again. The trees are taller, and the undergrowth is fuller. Years of the forest having been untouched have allowed it to become wild and beautiful as well as haunting and foreboding.
My father walks tall and proud, pointing out the things we built together, engendering a fondness for the times we shared while also highlighting all the new things, as if to say,Look what I did. There are chicken coops and several structures for geese and ducks, many of which roam free, quacking and honking. He’s even installed a man-made pond out back for the ducks to swim and play in. We didn’t have any of this growing up, so the old man has clearly learned a lot since I’ve been gone.
“Remember when we first put in all that fencing?” he asks, pointing along the edge of the property, as far as the eye can see.
“How could I forget one of my favorite childhood memories?” I look to my dad, smiling to let him know I’m joking—or half joking, at least.
“I’m sure you’re glad we have them now, though.”
The grim reality of what life would be like here without all the things we built and all the prepping sinks in. The fence alone is responsible for so much peace of mind. No one would ever be able to sleep safely knowing that anything out there could just wander into the house or the guestcabins. I’m not ready to concede that he was right about every single choice he made, but about this one thing ... definitely.
“I am, Dad,” I say.
He smiles back and then continues pointing out more of the new additions. The trails he added so it’s easier to patrol the fence lines at night. The rainwater runoff trough and tank so that he could cycle more fresh water. The additional solar panels to help keep everything running. All the projects he had been talking about for years, the ones I had always made fun of him for, saying he would never need any of this stuff. Now, without them, we would have no power, no clean drinking water, no extra food supply, and we would be on guard twenty-four seven, fearing for our lives.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“It’s impressive.”
“Thanks.” He beams, basking in this moment that he’s been waiting decades for. I know he isn’t happy about what the world has become and that we actually need all these safeguards. But I can see that part of him is glad he was prepared.
“Casey?”
“Yeah.”
“How come ... how come you never came back to visit?” His eyes show a sense of longing. The two of us spending time together back here on the property has likely brought a mixture of joy at me being in his life again and also a deep sadness. A realization of the years we didn’t spend together back when the world was normal. How many of these walks exist only in the world of “what if”?
I don’t have it in me to tell him the truth, because what good would it do?Hey, Dad, guess what? I didn’t come back here because I resented you for making me waste my childhood. For being the reason I relentlessly got picked on and why school was a living hell for me.Even the one summer I did come back, after freshman year of college, all I felt was sadness. Like it was seeping up through the ground, growing roots into my body and sapping the joy right out of me. I didn’t come back because all wehad was prepping, and I hated that more than anything. When I left for sophomore year of college, I knew I would never return ... not unless I absolutely had to, not unless he was right.
“Oh, you know. Life happens. I was busy. Between med school and residency, I never even had time to go to the gym or go see a movie, let alone drive all the way up to Wisconsin and back.” I say it as chipper as I can, emphasizing words likebusy,med school,residency, trying to convince us both at the same time that it’s the truth so we can move on.
He doesn’t answer, though, and I can tell by the disappointment on his face, he isn’t buying it, but he is accepting it for now. I feel so bad for cutting him out of my life, minus short texts here and there. His texts to me were always diary-length, and I barely even read them. I was just so angry at him, and I wanted my old life completely separated from the new one I had created. Actually, I didn’t want anything to do with my old life. I was ashamed of it, and I was ashamed of him—but now, I’m only ashamed of myself.
I hang my head, fighting back the tears welling up in my eyes.
“Hey.” Dad moves in front of me, placing his hands on the sides of my arms and gently squeezing. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
