Page 57 of What Remains

The little girl settled onto the concrete with her crayons, perfectly content. The ordinary sweetness of the moment resonated deep within Seth.

He watched them from across the fire.

For days, he'd told himself Josie was nothing more than another survivor: another responsibility, another person to deliver safely and move on from. He'd tried to believe she was simply another person to protect.

But the firelight kept drawing his eyes back to her. To the way she smiled at Layla as if the world hadn't ended. To her endless, unforced patience, and how she always crouched to meet her daughter at eye level. Exhaustion had carved dark circles beneath her eyes, and her coat hung looser each day, but Layla never saw it. Every smile Josie gave her daughter looked genuine, even when Seth knew she had nothing left to give.

She poured herself out daily, asking for nothing in return he felt an admiration settle within him, deeper and more personal than he cared to admit.

Josie looked up without warning and caught him watching.

His stomach dropped, but instead of looking away, she smiled—warm and steady. It felt like a thank you, but for what, he wasn't sure. For getting them this far? For not leaving her behind? He couldn't read all of it, and that was somehow worse.

Something in his chest responded before his mind could catch up.

Seth nodded once and turned to fuss with a log that needed absolutely nothing done to it.

Smooth. Real smooth.

"You stare at all the ladies like that?"

Cara's amused voice arrived next to him, and he nearly dropped the firewood.

"I wasn't staring."

"You were absolutely staring."

"I was assessing."

She snorted. "Assessing."

"Security."

"Mhm."

He shot her a flat look, which only widened her grin.

"I'll let you keep telling yourself that," she said, drifting off toward her pack, entirely too pleased with herself.

Across the fire, Josie laughed softly at something Layla had said, her head tipping back slightly, the firelight catching the curve of her smile. The sound drifted through the garage—light, genuine, untouched by everything waiting outside those brick walls—and it landed on Seth like a forgotten memory.

Without meaning to, he smiled. Just a little. Just enough for Jay—who had been quietly watching the whole exchange while stirring a pot of canned stew over the fire—to catch it.

Jay hid his smile behind the rising steam.

She slid her shirt over her head, her breasts falling free, her eyes never leaving his. Something in his gaze—dark, focused, wanting her and only her—made her braver in this place where nothing had consequences. He leaned forward, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then with hungry pulls that drew a soft moan from her lips. The heat of his tongue circling her, the light scrape of his teeth, sent sparks straight between her thighs. Her whole body answered him.

Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she arched into his mouth, greedy for more. Their clothes vanished in that hazy, effortless way of dreams, until nothing remained but skin sliding against skin and the sound of their breathing. He kissed a slow path down her stomach, unhurried, deliberate, then parted her legs with reverent hands—like she deserved to be savored, like they had all the time the real world would never give them.

His mouth found her there, hot and wet, his tongue delving deep before flicking over her clit in strokes that made her hips buck wildly against him. She gasped his name into the dark, fingers gripping sheets that didn't exist, undone by how thoroughly he seemed to know her—this man who barely knew her at all.

He rose above her, eyes heavy with need, and thrust inside her in one smooth stroke. The fullness overwhelmed her—perfect, stretching, complete—and she clung to him as he moved, deep and rhythmic, each thrust unraveling her a little further. Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back, urging him harder, faster, closer. Sweat slicked their bodies. The slap of skin and her breathless cries filled the space around them, and through it all, he watched her face as if he needed to memorize it.

Pleasure coiled tight in her core, winding higher with every powerful thrust until it finally broke through her, sharp and overwhelming. She clenched around him, crying out, and he groaned her name and followed, pulsing hot and deep inside her.

They collapsed together, tangled and sated, his heartbeat hammering against hers. His lips brushed her forehead with a tenderness that ached worse, cutting deeper into her heart, somehow, more powerfully still—soft, unguarded, the kind of touch she hadn't known since before the world fell apart.

Then the edges blurred. The warmth of him thinned. The room dissolved into darkness.