Page 92 of My Undead Love Life

Mad let out a quiet snort.

I snapped my gaze toward him. For the first time all day, his mouth had curved into something almost like a smile.

Oxi shook his head. “Real smooth, both of you.”

Heat crept up my neck. “I am injured, traumatized, freezing, and apparently unable to remove underwear in a van. Everyone can stop judging me.”

Luck coughed awkwardly. “No judgment here.”

“Obviously not,” Oxi muttered.

Luck glared at him.

Mad’s almost-smile grew into a smile for half a second before he looked away.

We shifted apart as much as we could, which wasn’t much in the tight space.

Everyone was checked, and we paid extra attention to Mad’s back. I made him turn twice and checked the torn fabric of his coat again, even though he wasn’t wearing it anymore.

“Flare,” he said softly.

“I’m making sure.”

“I know.”

Thankfully, he had told us the truth. He hadn’t been struck by the leopard.

Thank God for that.

We dressed back into our underwear and made a floor bed with the blankets, packs, and whatever soft supplies we could spare. It wasn’t comfortable. The van floor was hard, cold, and uneven beneath us. The air smelled stale, and the message on the wall seemed to pulse in the corner of my vision every time I looked away. But snuggling helped. Mad took the side closest to the doors, beside Luck who ended up behind me. Oxi tucked himself along my other side, one arm draped over my waist.

Outside, the wind dragged snow against the van. Somewhere close, a straggler groaned.

I stared at the scratched words until my eyes burned. Keith had been here in this van.

Recently enough to know about the snow leopards. Which meant that he had made it out of the tunnel somehow. Hope flickered stubbornly in my chest. I didn’t know what it meant for us. For me or the men lying around me, keeping me warm while I stared at proof that the man I loved might not be as dead as I’d let myself believe.

I could never let that hope go.

17

MAD

Iwas falling for Spencer, and it was probably the stupidest thing I’d done since the world ended.

Which said a lot, considering I had once sprinted through a burning apartment building with a bad map when the apocalypse first started.

Spencer was still in love with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, who was probably dead. Probably. That word was a problem for my feelings, even if I felt shitty about it.

Before the van and the scratched message, I thought she would give me and the others a real chance, but I saw the hope explode across her face when she read the message. Keith had been dead in my head. Not because I wanted him to be. I’m not a fucking asshole, but “dead” was the safest answer. Dead was awful, but it was clean. It had an ending.

But Spencer had hope for him again, and I was standing in the middle of that hope, falling for her like an idiot, wanting her like a starving man, while she wanted my friends, too.

Oxi.

Luck.

Me.