by Eve Langlais
But his phantom actions would never give her the family she longed for.
Part of her now wished she’d thrown responsibility to the wind and enjoyed those few blissful months with him before tragedy stuck, but who would have taken care of her family?
And why did gardening always make her thoughts turn to her memories of the past?
She ripped at the weeds that had cropped up in more aggressive numbers than the vegetables, an ongoing battle she used to vent her frequent frustration. Why do I bother? We’ve got enough canned vegetables to last us a lifetime. Hannah shuddered at the thought of eating mushy peas for the next forty or fifty years. With renewed vigor, she hacked at the thick root of a dandelion.
It took her a moment to register the sound in the distance. Like an audio mirage, her ears didn’t believe what they heard and when she did clue in, her jaw dropped.
That sounds like a motorcycle.
Pulling off her gloves and with a rapidly beating heart, she strode to the front of the house to see Uncle Fred peering at a cloud of dust fast approaching.
“Get the gun,” Fred said, his eyes squinting in the sun. “And help me get into the house.”
Hannah wanted to protest that they couldn’t be sure whoever approached meant them harm, but the wild eyes of her assailant in the spring floated in her mind and she might have whimpered.
Wheeling her uncle’s wheelchair quickly into the house, Hannah bolted the door and called for her sister. “Beth! Get down here.”
The long, tanned legs of her sister, followed by the rest of her, came skipping down the stairs. “What’s got your panties in a knot?” asked her blonde sibling. “I thought you wanted that bathroom clean.”
“I still do, but someone’s coming. Quick, get into the cellar and take Uncle Fred with you.” She grabbed the shotgun from its spot in the corner by the front door.
But Beth didn’t budge. With bright eyes, she asked, “Why are we hiding then? Maybe they’ve got news of other survivors. Maybe it’s a man.” She clasped her hands together and bounced a bit in excitement.
Fred snorted. “You’ve got less brains than most blondes, Bethie. What if it’s a scout for some gang looking for gals to sell? What if-”
Hannah cut off her uncle before he listed all the possibilities that could befall two girls in a lawless land-it tended to be lengthy. “Just get your ass downstairs now. I’m not taking any chances.”
“That’s the problem,” Beth grumbled as she grabbed the handles to Fred’s wheelchair. “We finally find someone alive, and we’re going to hide like rabbits in a burrow instead of befriending him.” Even as she complained, Beth wheeled their uncle down to the cellar using the rickety ramp they’d built for emergencies.
With the door shut behind them and the sounds of the motorcycle closer, Hannah cracked open the shotgun and made sure it held some casings before she snapped it shut. Sliding the pump forward, she chambered a shell and then stood behind the front door, resisting an urge to go on tiptoe and peer through the half-moon window.
I hate to say Beth is right, but what if whoever is coming is friendly? It would be nice to see other people again.
Or the person coming could be a psycho rapist who would hurt her and Beth before killing them all. Hell, it could even be the man she’d maimed, looking for revenge.
Safety lay in staying here, undiscovered. She wouldn’t chance the well-being of her family, no matter how lonely it got.
The sound of the revving engine echoed loudly in the still house, and Hannah found her hands sweating around the stock of the gun. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm down. The chances of the person stopping where small, infinitesimally so.
Hannah’s heart stuttered when the bike stopped right out front. What had they left lying around that had given them away? At Uncle Fred’s urging, they’d made sure the front of the house looked abandoned with the lawn growing wild. But, to her uncle’s chagrin, she drew the line at breaking windows for a more authentic look. When she’d taken the rock from his hand he’d claimed was for staging, he’d pouted until she let him trash the Jeep Cherokee that no longer had gas to run it.
Boards on the front porch creaked as someone stepped on them. Hannah’s breath came fast as she moved back and shouldered the shotgun, aiming it at the door. Silly, because the door was locked and whoever stood out there couldn’t get in.
She watched in terrified fascination as the handle turned, first one way then the other. A muffled curse and a thump sounded as the visitor kicked it. Hannah stifled a scream, her finger trembling on the trigger. More creaking was heard as the person went back down the steps and then silence.
Hannah let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Safe. She hadn’t heard the sound of the bike starting back up. But why isn’t the stranger leaving? What is he doing?
The tinkling of glass breaking in the kitchen made her swing around to the doorway that led into the kitchen. Hannah had a clear view of the side door and the hand that came through the opening and turned the knob. She stared in frozen disbelief as the kitchen door swung open, the tall, dark figure entering her home. Suddenly terrified, not just for herself, but for her family in the cellar, Hannah pulled the trigger.
Chapter Three
The blast took him by surprise. He’d thought the house vacant, but he hadn’t survived the apocalypse by being foolish or slow. Ducking, he covered his face, even as splinters flew from the doorjamb above him. When a second blast didn’t follow, he peered around the edge of the door that had changed little since the last time he’d seen it.
He heard the slide of a shotgun click as someone chambered a shell. The barrel came poking through the kitchen archway, followed by a miracle he hadn’t expected and certainly didn’t deserve.
“That’s the only warning I’m giving you, mister,” said a voice he’d dreamed about and never thought to hear again. “Get out before I blow your fucking head off.” Her vulgar language made him want to laugh. The little kitten he’d left had grown into a tigress.
As he watched the nervous waver of the shotgun, it occurred to him he’d better declare who he was before he found out if she meant her threat. “Hannah, is that you?”
He heard her gasp of surprise, and he stood up slowly in the doorway, showing himself to the woman he’d foolishly left behind. A wide smile spread across his face, a motion so unfamiliar this past year, he could feel his muscles stretch even as his heart stuttered in his chest.
She’s alive! And she’s more beautiful than ever.
“Brody?” Uncertainty colored her familiar features, and she lowered the barrel of the gun.
Brody drank her in, from the golden curls forming halo around the face he’d never forgotten to her upturned nose sprinkled with freckles. Bright, brown eyes regarded him with confusion, and she bit one of her full, luscious lips. Lips that tasted sweeter than any dessert. His gaze flicked over her figure, still generously proportioned with a bosom he’d loved burying his face in and rounded hips he’d held onto to for many wild rides. A tightness in his groin showed that more than one part of his body remembered the passion they’d shared. He took a step toward her, wondering if he dreamed, aching to touch her but scared she’d disappear, leaving him to wake once again to dreaded loneliness.
“It’s me, kitten,” he said, using the nickname he’d given her because of her penchant for snuggling and making a sound like a purr. He took another step.
“I’m not your kitten,” she retorted, her eyes sparking with anger. The shotgun swung up. “Get out.”
Brody raised his hands and took another step toward the only woman he’d ever loved, hope blossoming in his heart, unafraid of the danger she posed with her shaking finger on the trigger. “I’ve missed you,” he said softly and thought, more than you’ll ever realize.
“Then you shouldn’t have left.”
He wanted to reply, but a commotion behind her took both their attentions.
A feminine voice squealed.
“Hannah, are you okay?”
“I’m okay, Bethie,” said Hannah, turning around to speak to her little sister who had to be about nineteen now if Brody remembered correctly. The gun lowered at Beth’s appearance, and Brody briefly though of taking the weapon from her. Somehow this new, harder Hannah didn’t seem like the type who’d be happy about that. And the one thing he’d decided in the last few moments was that from this point on, her happiness and well-being were his new purposes in life. He’d made the biggest mistake of his existence once in letting her go. He wouldn’t make that error again.
Judging by his less than warm reception, it might take some convincing to get her to take him back, which was fine with him. He had all the time in the world to give her.
Damn is it good to be home.
* * * * *
Hannah turned to face her sister, trying to regain an equilibrium that had been shot out from under her when Brody showed up at the kitchen door. And I almost took his head off. She hadn’t been aiming to kill of course, just scare, but still, her body shook.
What is he doing here? Why is he back after all this time?
The coward had never contacted her once he'd departed and, too proud, she’d never asked his family if they had heard from him. The betrayal of his departure had run deep and left emotional scars that had never completely healed. He’d ruined her ability to trust men.
The irony of her last words to him didn’t escape her.
Of all the eligible men to show up in this new post-apocalyptic world, it had to be him. The one man she’d sworn she’d never take back, the one who’d broken her heart. He also was the only man she’d ever met who could make her tummy do flip-flops and her panties go wet.
How can he still affect me like this? I hate him.
Beth tried to peer around Hannah’s body, which blocked the entrance to the kitchen. “What happened, Hannah? Did you kill him? Are we safe? Are-”
Hannah held up a hand to cut her off. “Everything’s fine.” No, it isn’t, screamed her heart. “It’s just Brody.” She turned around to face him when she said this and enjoyed the look of consternation on his face as she relegated his status unimportant.
Beth squealed again as she shoved through the doorway and launched herself at him. “Brody,” Beth cried, jumping on him exuberantly. She hugged him enthusiastically, a hug which he returned.
Hannah stifled an urge to yank her sister away. She most definitely was not jealous. She’d gotten over Brody a long time ago.
So why am I digging my nails into my palm?
“What are you doing here?” Beth asked, her eyes shining bright in the familiar hero worship she’d relegated to him when he’d been a regular visitor in their home. Hannah’s irritation grew, especially when Brody smiled at Beth in obvious pleasure at her warm reaction to his arrival.
“I came back to see if anyone else had survived.”
“You’ve been elsewhere. Is it true? Is everybody dead?” Beth seemed suddenly subdued, giving voice to the question that had plagued the three of them since their section of the world had disappeared.
“Not everyone, but close,” he said, his eyes showing a bleakness and hardness that didn’t used to be there.
Hannah took a good look at his face now that most of the shock had worn off and noted the changes. His hair had grown longer and shaggier-self-cut due to an obvious lack of barbers-and his features appeared leaner as if he’d lost weight. Even given his mid-twenties, he had lines on his face that gave him a weary, travelled look. He’s seen things that have changed him, she thought almost sadly. Gone was the optimistic boy she’d once loved and in his place was a man.
An urge came over her to run her fingers down his new masculine face, to kiss away the lines he’d so harshly earned. Creases she knew would increase when he learned what else had happened. A secret she suddenly dreaded sharing.
A commotion and a bellow sounded, pulling her thoughts away from the past.
Brody’s body went tense, and Hannah hastened to reassure him. “It’s just Uncle Fred. I had him and Bethie go down to the cellar as a precaution when we heard the motorcycle.”
“That old coot’s alive?” Brody’s face lit up. “I’ll go give him a hand.”
Brody brushed by Hannah, his memory of their home apparently intact as he headed for the basement. Hannah’s breath sucked in at the brief touch of their bodies. He’d kept in shape and still felt hard as ever, a noticeable fact that made her flush with heat.
“Oh isn’t it wonderful? Brody’s back and more handsome than ever.”
Hannah frowned at her younger sister. “He’s not back for long. You watch, he’ll be gone before the day’s out. There’s nothing here for him now.” She didn’t quite believe her own words. She said them because she had to, anything to try and stop the hope that had taken root since she’d heard his voice and the tingles that even now ran through her body at the thought of being able to touch him again. She couldn’t allow herself to fall in love with him-she wouldn’t survive his leaving a second time.
For a moment Beth lost her smile, only to replace it with a sly one. “You’re just saying that because he left you. It’s a new world now, and a man like him is going to be looking for a woman to settle down with. You know you could get him back if you wanted to.”
Hannah looked at her sister in disbelief. Take him back? After what he did to me. Has Beth lost her mind?
“Not even if he was the last man on earth,” Hannah replied although her body and heart protested otherwise.
* * * * *
Brody caught her words as he wheeled Fred toward the kitchen to join the girls.
“Well, kitten, seeing as how few of us are left, you might want to rethink that stance.” He couldn’t resist goading her, and the flush on her cheeks and sparkle in her eye made it well worth it, even if he knew she was spitting mad. Folks always said love and hate didn’t lie far apart.
“You,” she said, pointing at him. “Outside. Now.” Off she stalked, that plump ass he’d loved and never forgotten swinging sassily in front of him. If she hadn’t been so pissed he’d have slapped it.
Out the front door they went to stand on the porch. Hannah crossed her arms over her ample chest and regarded him with a pinched expression, her full lips tight with ire.
Brody just grinned and leaned casually against the porch railing. He figured she had a right to vent. And besides, the way he saw it, she wouldn’t be so pissed if she didn’t still care.
“I want you to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t belong here.”
“Says who?” Brody enjoyed watching her, even though right now she exuded anger, an emotion which made her cheeks bloom with color. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and kiss her ‘til her eyes glazed over.
“Says me. I don’t know why you came back, but there’s nothing for you here, so please leave.”
Brody detected a crack in her facade when she said the last. Proof to him she still felt something. He arched one brow at her. “And I say there’s plenty of reasons to stay.”
“Name one.”
“You.”
Her derisive laughter hit low. “Oh please. If I wasn’t enough to keep you a year and a half ago, why would you think I’d fall for that now? I realize the pickings are slimmer these days, but I refuse to be the last choice.”
Brody’s heart stilled at her words. Did she really think she could ever be his last choice? She’d always been his one and only. “I made a mistake. I know that now. I never should have left.”
It was Hannah’s turn to arch her brows. “Really? And it took you this long to figure that out?”
“I knew it the day I left.”
“I don’t believe you. Now go.” Her lips trembled, and her eyes brimmed with tears.
“No,” he said, taking a step toward her.
She took one back, trepidation on her face. “You don’t belong here.”
“I do, I w
as just too young and stupid to realize it at the time.” She crept away from him even as he drew closer, unable to fight the magnetic pull she exuded.
“You’ll just leave again.” She whispered those words, the pain in them stabbing him. It was his fault she wore this wounded look. I never meant to hurt you.
“I won’t leave you again,” he promised, his voice tight as he closed the distance between them.
She scuttled from him, stopping only when her rear came up against the far porch rail, but he invaded her space so she had nowhere left to go. He cupped her face and peered into her eyes where he could see confusion warring with desire. He leaned in to kiss her. Her lashes fluttered, and he felt her soft breath flutter over his hovering lips. Lightly, he pressed his mouth against hers, willing them to part for him.
For a moment, she relaxed and her lips softened under his. Brody reached a hand up and brushed the back of his knuckles across the downy skin of her cheek, which proved to be a mistake as she stiffened and shoved at him. While he didn’t move-he didn’t want to-the railing behind her did. With windmilling arms, she fell backward. Brody reached out to grab her, managing to grasp only the thin linen of her top. The sound of cloth tearing almost drowned out her shriek. He stared at the ripped blouse in his hand and then down at his plush kitten flailing in the tall grass in her bra and laughed even as she cursed him.
You’re not immune to me, kitten, and I think I might even enjoy those new claws you’ve grown while I was gone, especially if you dig them into my back.
On that thought-and with a painful erection-he hopped down to help his spitting mad kitten.
Chapter Four
Hannah fumed in her room, the sounds of revelry below making her hide. Brody hadn’t left-yet. She knew it was just a matter of time. If he’d found the town small and stifling before, then what would he think now when only Hannah and her family had survived?
She paused in her internal ranting. Did he know about his family? He must. She couldn’t see him not going to his home first. But he had to have expected it or part of it, at least. The plague had spared so few. Hannah knew it had to be something in their genes that allowed her small family to survive. She wondered which of their parents had given them the lifesaving gene, one that most of the world lacked.
