“How are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m alright. I’ve faced worse than this.”
I frown. “You have?”
“No, but I sound less like a pussy when I say that.”
A surprised laugh escapes me as I grab one of the bottles of water we have left and a protein bar, then offer it to him.
“You literally almost got your leg chopped in two. Definitely doesn’t make you a pussy.”
Landon takes a small sip of the water and the tiniest bite of the protein bar before handing both to me. “Now you.”
I smile and shake my head. “I already ate this morning. I’m good,” I lie.
Landon stares at me for several seconds. “You’re still a shit liar, babygirl. Now eat, one for you, one for me.”
Sometimes I absolutely hate how well this man seems to know me.
I snatch the bar from him, taking a small bite before handing it back to him, then do the same with a tiny sip of water. Both of us being too damn stubborn, we do this little song and dance for a while until both are gone.
“Thank you,” Landon says sincerely.
“You don’t have to thank me, you would have done the same for me. And you probably wouldn’t have complained as much,” I joke.
Landon smiles and reaches for the nape of my neck so he canpull me towards him. Our lips brush in a soft, tentative kiss before he rests his forehead against mine.
“I love you, so much.”
I smile. “I love you too.”
Landon lets out a long exhale before releasing his hold on me. “Alright, let’s see how bad it is.”
There’s a heavy amount of bruising and some yellowing on the tissue.
He laughs bitterly. “Well, that doesn’t look good.”
“Can you stand?” I ask.
“Fucking hope so,” he says as I get to my feet, offering my hands to help him up.
He takes them, holding on to me tight as he does everything he can to stay off his leg. His face strains, and when he sets his left foot down, that strain increases.
“Landon,” I say, shaking my head.
“I’m good,” he says, though I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince, me or him.
I stare at him, waiting for him to give up this ridiculousness but he begins hobbling, one step at a time.
“Come on, you better keep up, Court,” he calls back as he grabs one of the bags and slings it over his shoulder.
I grab the other and narrow my eyes as I follow him. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I won’t fucking kill you.”
We’re able to make a lot better headway than I expected. Once we got going, Landon began limping at a decent pace. It’s by no means a normal pace—he’s in debilitating pain, after all, but we’re making progress. I have no way to gauge how far out we actually are, though. The map is extremely rudimentary, but there are afew small landmarks that suggest we’re closing in on the location. Maybe a few miles away?
I trace a path on the map with my finger and spot a little symbol up to our right. Frowning, I look all over the map to see if there’s a guide to the symbols before finding one on the back.
I stop in my tracks. “Landon, look.”
