Page 47 of Doomsdate

She laughs then, a full-throated rumble that somehow I feel in my chest. I catch the image of her open-mouthed grin in the digital memory of my phone, but I have a feeling my own memory of it will last much longer.

“Um, maybe one together? Survival partners?” she asks tentatively. “If you want to, I mean.”

“Come here.” My voice dips low, and a burst of pleasure fizzes through me when she steps close. I’ve tried not to think about what awaits us tonight once we set up camp, but it turns out the idea of teaching Maisie about sex is impossible to ignore. I wrap my arm around her, relishing the way she fits flush against my side, and cock the camera up and angled down at us, capturing Shenandoah at our backs as though we’re standing on top of the world. After a second’s hesitation, Maisie leans her head against me, lightly and unsure, as though she’s never done this before.

She probably hasn’t. The thought hurts my heart, and I almost drop the phone. But as the camera blinks, our smiling faces reflecting back at us, the unmistakable feeling of something different, something out of place, something not quite right hits. It’s her face there beside mine, filling the spot I thought would be empty for the rest of my life.

No.

It’s my face there. That’s what feels wrong. Living, seeing new things, taking pictures of moments I don’t want to forget—I didn’t think that would ever happen to me again.

I didn’t think it could.

It’s ironic that Maisie’s teaching me to survive when I stopped trying to three years ago.

But right now, with Maisie tucked beneath my arm in this beautiful place, I wonder if that’s really how it has to be.

Jesus, Everett, she’s not your girlfriend! She’s a nice person whom the world has unfairly ignored, and you’re going to politely, with full respect for her boundaries, teach her whatever she wants to know. Casually. As a friend.

Right. Besides, it might be good for me, too. Like training wheels on being with someone again. It’s only for one night, after all, before our paths diverge tomorrow. It’ll be…fun.

So fun, my inner horndog starts to howl. So fucking fu—

I release her and straighten quickly, then try for my most charming, unaffected smile. “Ready to go?”

Before she can answer, my phone vibrates in my hand.

“Whoa. I have data right now!” It’s only one measly bar, but it’s there.

I quickly pull open my texts and hammer out a message to Gemma, letting her know I’m still alive and still on my way.

The bar showing its transmission snails across my screen.

“Come on, come on, come on,” I urge.

Message failed to send appears, and my heart plummets. “The service is gone again.” I groan into the sky.

We hang around for as long as Maisie’s patience allows, but no matter what I do, how high I jump, even the tall cluster of rocks I climb, the service is gone. Finally, she prods me toward the car.

“She already knows you’re on your way,” Maisie says. “Now we have to do our part and get there on time.”

I sigh. “You’re right. Okay. Let’s go.” And maybe I’m off here, but Maisie seems…I don’t know. Disappointed, somehow? She drives the rest of the way through the park in a frowning, contemplative silence.

Chapter Eleven

Maisie

The sun’s barely above the treetops when we pull off the remote highway onto a long, snaking driveway through the forest. It took us longer than anticipated to leave the park, and even longer to find a promising place to stay for the night. Since I was technically wrong about Shenandoah’s safety, I agreed to try it Everett’s way and source an empty vacation home for tonight’s stay. We’ll have an hour, tops, to secure the premises, dispatch any undead, and settle in until daylight breaks once more.

“I hope you’re right about this.” I wince as my SUV crunches loudly along the snowy lane.

“I am definitely right about this. Four walls are inherently superior to zero walls during a zombie apocalypse.” Everett lifts one finger in the air with a satisfied smile. “It’s math.”

I frown. “Might want to stick to television, Professor.”

The trees part ahead, revealing the small clearing and the luxurious cabin nestled within it that we spotted from the road. The windows reflect the pure gold of the setting sun, making nothing visible within. I chew my bottom lip, palms sweating against the steering wheel.

“You’re nervous.” Everett’s brows knit gently together. “I thought that was my role in this apocalypse.”