by Kyla Stone
“I know.”
Odin and Thor pushed the bedroom door open with their noses and wandered into the room, looking lost and forlorn. Milo patted the mattress, and both cats leapt onto the bed and curled into furry balls at his feet.
A minute later, Loki and Hel followed suit. They sauntered up to Ghost and nested themselves in his white fur. Gentle purring filled the room.
“Quinn?”
“Yeah, Small Fry?”
“Can we stay here for a while? Like we used to?”
They used to lay like this in the days and nights after the massacre, when the nightmares invaded and all they had was each other. How they’d clung to each other, then.
Milo had needed her so desperately. The truth was, she’d needed him.
He’d brought her back to herself. She’d forgotten that. Forgotten how love was a two-way street and people couldn’t help you if you didn’t let them in, if you didn’t let them come into your messy ugly places and love you back to life.
She’d forgotten. Milo reminded her.
The tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. The trickle became a stream which turned into a waterfall, and then she was weeping, sobbing, shuddering with grief.
Milo wrapped his thin arms around her and held her tight. “It’s okay, Quinn. I’m holding onto it now, too. It’s okay.”
This hole in her heart was too big for her, but together, together they shared it. And somewhere deep inside, she understood that it was enough. It would be enough.
This time, she didn’t run from it. She felt it all, let the pain roll through her in waves.
She wept and Milo held her, and after a while, the waves of sadness relented, rolled back a little. Her tears dried, the great hiccupping sobs subsiding.
She felt the jagged and broken pieces of herself slowly, slowly fitting themselves back together.
Not today, not tomorrow, but they would.
She rubbed the wetness from her eyes and stared blearily at the painted monsters decorating her walls. Every square inch of wall and ceiling covered in bright murals, including her bookcases, desk, and bed. King Kong, Godzilla, the Minotaur. Gremlins and harpies.
Her gaze landed on the unicorn painted across her closet doors. Milo had christened him Jeff the stabby unicorn.
“Milo.”
“Yeah?”
She cleared her throat, struggling to get the words out. “I know I’ve been…I messed up, Small Fry. I wasn’t here for you after…after Noah. You needed me, and I let you down. That wasn’t cool. I’m sorry.”
She felt his shoulders shrug. “I forgive you.”
“That’s it? Seems too easy.”
“What else is there?”
“Like, you aren’t going to hold it over me or make me do your chores for a year?”
“Tempting, but nope.”
Quinn gave a pained snort. “Well…thank you.”
“We can share,” Milo said.
“What do you mean?”
“You need a family, but you don’t have one. I’ll share mine with you. Then we can be brother and sister, for real.”
“You really want that?”
He snuggled into her neck. His mop of unruly curls tickled her cheeks. “More than Christmas. More than peanut butter.”
It was several moments before she trusted her voice enough to speak. Her broken heart pulsed with affection and sadness, love and sorrow. It was almost too much to bear.
Damn, but she loved this kid.
“Okay,” Quinn whispered. Then, louder. “Okay.”
“Pinkie promise?”
Milo held up his pinkie finger. Quinn hooked hers around his smaller one. “Pinkie promise.”
“We’re family now,” Milo said with such sweet confidence that Quinn nearly dissolved into tears again. “My family is your family. Mom and baby Charlotte. And Ghost. Can’t forget Ghost.”
Ten minutes ago, she thought she’d never smile again. Yet amid misery and heartache, she felt it. That spark of joy, a promise of something more.
That no matter how bleak things seemed, tomorrow would be better.
“Do you wanna listen to music? Mom borrowed the iPod, but I got it back.” Milo pulled it out of his pocket and showed it to her. “I even remembered to charge it.”
“Only if it’s not Elvis.”
He grinned. “You can’t fool me. I know it’s your favorite.”
They spent an hour lying next to each other, an earbud for each of them, listening to Aerosmith. U2. Pink Floyd. Journey. The Beatles. And of course, Elvis Presley’s “Love Me Tender” and “Heartbreak Hotel.”
The songs she’d grown up with, that Gramps had loved. He’d danced with her when she was a little girl, Gran looking on, pretending to disapprove but nodding her head to the tune.
The same songs Hannah had once sung to Milo. The music connected them, a gossamer thread leading them to each other.
By the time the sun had set and darkness crouched outside the windows, Quinn’s tears had dried to salty tracks on her cheeks, and Milo lay curled against her side, breathing contentedly, fast asleep.
48
Liam
Day One Hundred and Fourteen
Liam had blood on his hands.
He’d been forced to kill the soldiers manning the helo. The moment they’d fired a shot, they’d become the enemy. They had attacked innocent people. They had killed Molly. For that, they deserved their fiery death.
Fall Creek had eliminated the threat of the Black Hawk, but at great cost. The town was once again reeling, left to pick up the pieces.
It wasn’t over yet.
After another endless day working to solidify their fighting positions, consolidate resources, and take stock of the wreckage, Bishop had forced him to take a break.
Fear, uncertainty, and dread formed a hard knot inside him. A crushing weariness threatened to overwhelm him, but for the moment, the imminent danger had receded.
For a few precious minutes, he was a man, not a soldier.
A man with the woman he loved.
Liam sat on Hannah’s sofa with Charlotte. She smelled clean, of baking soda and lotion. He bobbed his knee and Charlotte giggled, the sound as pure and rich as ringing bells.
Rain drummed the roof. The wind scoured the corners of the house and rattled the tree branches.
Inside, the fire crackled in the living room fireplace. Candles placed around the room scented the air with vanilla and lavender.
Ghost sprawled before the fireplace, panting like he’d spent the day running a marathon, not dozing.
His apparent indolence was misleading. When his people were awake and alert, he rested. When they slept, he came alive, spending the nights patrolling his domain, protecting his herd.
Hannah’s singing drifted from the hallway as she finished up her usual bedtime routine with Milo. Quinn was here, too.
After finding them sleeping in Quinn’s bed, Liam had brought them to Hannah’s house. They awoke just long enough to inhale a supper of potato and carrot soup with the cooked rabbit that Quinn had caught earlier.
Hannah insisted Quinn stay with her. It wasn’t healthy—or safe—to be alone.
Charlotte cooed, grinning. Her chubby arms flailed as she reached for him, grasping for his face. Her crooked knit hat toppled onto the couch cushion, and her chocolate-brown fringe stood up all over her head with static.
It was adorable. She was adorable.
“Too warm for that hat now,” he said. “You’ve grown so much. Guess I’ll have to make you another one. Maybe pink this time? I’ve heard little girls like pink.”
She wrapped her tiny fingers around one thumb, then the other, and looked up at him with wide bright eyes. Her face alight, her whole being radiated joy.
His heart clenched and expanded all in one breath.
If she was safe to grow up, then he’d done his job. If he saved her and her mother. No matter what happened to him. That would be enough.
Charlotte ya
wned and snuggled against his chest. Her halo of silky dark hair tickled his neck. He leaned back, his spine twinging, but he ignored it as he patted her diapered bottom.
Within a minute, she was asleep.
Hannah padded down the hallway. “They’re both asleep.”
“They’ll probably sleep for twelve hours. Especially Quinn. Don’t let her wake up early for our training session. It can wait. She needs her rest.”
Hannah settled beside him on the couch. Her hair was tugged back in a messy ponytail. Dark circles ringed her eyes, her skin pale.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
“I keep thinking about Molly,” she said, and her face crumpled. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
With Charlotte sleeping against his chest, he drew Hannah to him with his free arm. She sank into his embrace as if she’d always belonged there.
She looked up at him, a wave of grief contorting her features. Tears sparked in her eyes. “After everything, to lose Molly, too. I already miss her so much.”
He felt gut-punched. Like another hole had opened inside him, a wound that would never fully heal. Molly was an incredible fount of knowledge, but more importantly, she’d been a dear friend. He’d come to care deeply for her.
Such a snarky, independent, intelligent woman. The prickly heart of Fall Creek. “It doesn’t feel right without her here.”
“Everything feels…lessened, somehow.”
“I wish I could go back and change things. I could have stopped it, saved them—”
“It’s not your fault. It’s the General who did this,” she said fiercely. “He’s the one who needs to pay.”
Emotion thickened his throat. “I know.”
Hannah was quiet for a minute. The fire popped and sparked. “She died saving Quinn, saving that little boy.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less of her,” Liam said gruffly.
“We need to honor her. We have to have a funeral…something.”
“We will, but it’s not safe now.”
“I know. It’s just…hard,” she said. “Poor Quinn. I love that girl like my own heart. I want to hold her and never let go. She has no one left.”
“Yes, she does. She has you. She has us.”
Hannah nodded. “She does.”
“We’ll take care of her.”
“We will.” Hannah wiped away her tears, as if steeling herself for what came next, and took several steadying breaths. “And we’ll start by keeping the General from hurting anyone else. Any updates?”
“Our forward observers report zero movement. The General has his men buttoned up inside that hotel.”
“What will he do next?”
“That was a soft attack to open us up for a ground assault or air raid. He should have sent in ground troops while we were shell-shocked from the rockets. But he didn’t.”
“Why?”
Liam hated admitting his uncertainty. It felt like weakness. “I don’t know.”
“Because of Charlotte?”
He shook his head, weary and frustrated, plagued with doubt and foreboding. “Could be. He’s waiting for something. Or toying with us. Or both. I don’t like it.”
“What about Hamilton? Could he help?”
“The radios are broken. It’s dangerous to travel anywhere outside the perimeter. And he only has thirty men. Besides, he’s under strict orders not to get involved in local disputes.”
“You don’t think he’d bend those orders for us?”
“He’s a good man, but he’s a rule follower. The military demands unconditional obedience to the chain of command for a reason.”
Hannah chewed on her lower lip. “It seems worth it to try.”
“Maybe,” Liam allowed. “We can send a scout tomorrow.”
His back spasmed. He winced, careful not to move so he wouldn’t awaken Charlotte.
Hannah noticed. She pulled away and sat up. “Your back.”
“I’m fine.”
“I can tell it’s hurting you.”
He shot her a disgruntled look, but it was true. There was no use attempting to hide it. She always noticed.
“You need a massage.”
“I’m fine,” he tried again, but it was useless.
When Hannah made up her mind, there was no changing it. Truth was, he wanted her hands kneading the pain from his aching muscles. Her warmth, her closeness, her touch. He wanted her in his arms again.
“I’ll be right back.” She rose and picked up Charlotte, crooning into her seashell-shaped ear so she didn’t awaken, and carried her into the bedroom.
Ghost lifted his head and tracked her every move with his eyes, his tail thumping.
Liam rechecked the house. Ghost leapt to his feet and followed him. Liam patted his head.
All windows and doors were secured and locked. He peered through the kitchen window. Streams of water streaked the glass like tears, distorting his reflected features.
The trees thrashed outside the house. Branches creaked and snapped.
Guards were stationed at the head of Tanglewood Drive. Mobile patrols were on alert. More sentries manned the sniper nests and fighting stations along the perimeter.
The forward observers kept a constant watch, ready to report any suspicious activity at a moment’s notice. Liam couldn’t do anything more that wasn’t already done.
He waited for Hannah.
49
Liam
Day One Hundred and Fourteen
Hannah perched on the sofa beside him. An expectant charge in the air, like an electric current between them. She offered him a shy smile. “I guess we’re alone.”
“I guess we are,” he said, his voice suddenly husky.
Hannah leaned in and grazed his mouth with her lips.
His heart rate quickened. Electricity zapped through his entire body.
He kissed her back, fully and deeply, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her close. She put her hands on either side of his head and stroked his scalp.
He could have lost himself in this moment forever.
With a soft, satisfied smile, she sat back and eyed him. “Take off your shirt.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Is that a command?”
She blushed but didn’t drop her gaze. “Priorities, Liam Coleman. I’m supposed to nurse you back to health.”
“By all means.” Liam winced as he moved to remove his shirt. The gunshot wound was healing, the infection gone. It still hurt like a mother, though.
Hannah changed out the bandage for a fresh one, cleaned the wound, and applied tea tree oil as a topical antibiotic. Now that the infection was under control, they’d switched to natural remedies to save their remaining stock for serious cases.
From Molly’s stash of survival books, Hannah had learned about effective natural remedies used for thousands of years. She wrote it all down in her notebook and copied pertinent information for Evelyn and Lee.
“I can do that myself, you know.”
“Not as well as I can.”
From the floor, Ghost chuffed his agreement.
Liam rolled his eyes. “I see I’m outnumbered.”
“I think you’ll always be outnumbered.”
He grunted as Hannah completed her task and eased him onto his stomach on the sofa. Heat from the fireplace warmed his sore, exhausted muscles. The thrumming rain lulled him, weights pulling at his eyelids. He could have slept for a month.
He couldn’t rest, not truly, until he’d eliminated the threat of the General—and Poe.
Hannah scooted beside him and kneaded his shoulders. He relaxed into her. Her hands were strong and supple as she worked, even her injured hand as she eased his knotted muscles and tight discs. The pain receded.
Once Hannah had finished her ministrations, he rose and checked the house, unease crawling beneath his skin as he searched the darkened, rain-drenched street.
Nothing moved. No threats presented themselves.
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When he returned, Hannah was standing beside the sofa, her hair down around her shoulders, eyes shining in the firelight.
She ducked her head shyly, glancing at him through her eyelashes. Sorrow in her face, and worry, but something else, a small thing flaring bright and fierce. Hope.
Longing filled him.
You had to seize the moment. You never knew when it would be the last time. To give a hug. To say what you needed to say.
He went to Hannah and took her in his arms. She pressed herself against him and lifted her face to his. He kissed her, hard and hungry.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips.
“I love you,” she whispered back.
Her hands grazed his chest. She kissed him deeper—
“Mom?” A soft voice came from the hallway.
Socked feet padded toward them.
Hannah stepped back, her eyes big and wide and bottomless.
“Can’t sleep,” Milo said, his voice groggy. “Another bad dream.”
With great effort, Liam tore his gaze from Hannah. Milo glanced between them, blinking blearily, tousled black curls standing up all over his head. He wore an oversized men’s shirt that fell to his knees—Noah’s.
He hesitated, a crease between his brows. Like a deer crouched at the edge of the trees, tentative and cautious, unsure if it was safe to approach.
Liam smiled. “Come on over.”
He shuffled into the living room, rubbing his eyes. Hannah opened her arms to him. Liam made room, and the boy squeezed himself between their bodies, wrapped his arms around Hannah’s middle, and buried his face against her stomach.
Over his head, she flashed Liam a sheepish smile, mouthing I’m sorry.
She had nothing to apologize for.
This was family. Parenthood. Love in all its messiness.
“Can you sing me ‘Blackbird’ again?” Milo mumbled into her shirt. “That always helps.”
“Of course, honey.” She took Milo’s hand and led him back toward his bedroom.
“To be continued,” Liam said.
Hannah looked back over her shoulder, rewarding him with a smile that outshone the sun.
