Page 15 of My Apocalypse Mountain Man
But what I say is, "We should clean up the bodies. Burn them before they attract scavengers."
"Kole."
"Yeah?"
"You're deflecting."
"I'm being practical."
"Are you?"
I look at her—beautiful, competent, alive despite everything we just survived—and realize I'm tired of being practical. Tired of pretending I don't want things I can't have.
"No," I admit. "I'm being scared."
"Of what?"
"Of wanting something I might not be able to protect."
She steps closer. "Who says you have to protect me? Who says I can't protect myself, protect us?"
"Yesterday you almost died."
"Yesterday we both almost died. Multiple times. And we saved each other. Multiple times." Her hand finds mine. "Kole, I'm not asking you to protect me. I'm asking you to let me stand beside you."
"As what?"
"As whatever we want to be."
The simplicity of it breaks something open in my chest. Three years of isolation, of telling myself it's safer to be alone, and this woman shows up and makes partnership look like the most natural thing in the world.
"I don't know how to do this," I admit.
"Neither do I. But we figured out how to fight zombies together. Maybe we can figure out the rest too."
Instead of answering with words, I cup her face in my hands and kiss her.
It's tentative at first, testing, asking permission. But when she melts against me, her hands fisting in my shirt, the kiss deepensinto something desperate and necessary. Somehow, it’s even more intense than when we fucked last night. The adrenaline is gone. Now it’s just pure emotion.
"Okay," I say, somewhat stunned.
"Even though it's dangerous?"
"Everything's dangerous now. Might as well be dangerous together."
She grins, and I realize I want to spend the rest of my life making her smile like that.
"Good. Because I wasn't planning on leaving anyway."
"No?"
"Kole, I've spent three years moving from place to place, never belonging anywhere. Yesterday, fighting beside you, protecting this place with you—that felt like home."
"This place?"
"This place. You. Us."
The word hangs between us, full of possibility.
