“I’m not going anywhere,” I said against her hair.
She nestled deeper into my chest, and her breathing slowed, and her grip on my hand softened as sleep started pulling her under.
I stayed awake.
Watching the stars drift overhead. Listening to the engine, holding the woman curled against me, and thinking about all the ways the world had ended and the one impossible, unexplainable way it had given me something worth keeping in the wreckage.
Thirty Three
Sloane
Imust have fallen asleep at some point, because the last thing I remembered was the stars drifting across the sky, the steady rumble of the Mariner’s engine vibrating through the deck beneath us. Callan’s arms were around me, the blanket tucked tight against the cold ocean air. His warmth pressed along my back, his heart beating against my cheek.
The sky above us had turned pale blue, morning light spreading in a slow wash over the water. The ocean calm—long silver ripples catching the first edge of the sun.
I didn’t move, still curled between his legs, my back against his chest, his arm draped loosely across my waist beneath the blanket. His breathing was slow. Steady.
Still asleep, I should move,I thought.
But I didn’t.
I had nowhere to be, and it had been a long time since I’dbeen this comfortable.
So I stayed.
The boat rocked gently as it pushed through the water. I shifted, turning, and rested my cheek against his chest, letting the quiet rhythm of his breathing lull me.
For a long time—years, really—Callan had been the last person on earth I thought I’d ever let this close. We’d fought constantly, snapping at each other over nothing.
I’d been so sure he hated me, and now here I lay, tucked against him like we’d known this version of each other for eternity, and the strange thing I couldn’t quite explain—the thing that kept catching me off guard—
It didn’t frighten me.
After a while, he shifted behind me. His arm tightened slightly around my waist, the blanket rustling.
“You awake?” I murmured.
His voice came a second later, rough with sleep.
“Mm… yeah.”
Low. Gravelly. That unfair thing men’s voices did in the morning.
A shiver traced up my spine.
He shifted again, his chest rising against my back.
“Do you need me to move?” I asked softly.
He shook his head, his lips brushing the back of my neck. Just barely. A soft, sleepy press of warmth against my skin.
Something turned over in my chest.
“Not yet,” he murmured.
His arm slid a little tighter around me, his breath faint against my neck, his voice still thick.
“Just… let me get up and pee.”