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“Of course yeah. What did you think? Did you imagine for even a second that I’d leave you?” I hear the words. Hear how they sound. And I’m suddenly terrified that I’ve exposed too much of my heart to a man who’s never done the same with me. So I hurry to add, “Those are my people too. In the bunker. I’m not going to abandon them.”
The clarification does what I wanted it to do. It protects me. But it also changes the feeling between us. He’s been idly stroking my back, but now he pulls his hand away. “I know you won’t.”
“Do you really think anyone is going to come to help us?”
“I don’t know. I have to assume they will since Faith and Jackson seem so confident.”
“How many people do you think we’ll need?”
“Well, the more the better, but I can’t see us managing it without about twenty. Even if we come up with the sharpest strategy, there’s simply too many of them. So less than twenty would be a pretty big gamble.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. Twenty is a lot. We’ll need at least ten more than we have right now. “All I know is if that many come to help with this, we’re going to have to be a lot more generous with what we have afterward. We’re already a lot more fortunate than most people. We can’t let them do this for us and then be selfish with what we’ve got.”
Grant nods. “I know. I’ve already thought of that. It’s the direction a lot of us have been wanting to go anyway, but we’ll have to get there more quickly. We can at least open up the bunker to people who need shelter. And share our supplies.”
The matter-of-fact nature of his words relieves me. I catch myself reaching over for his hand—just to hold it—but stop myself just in time. “Maybe we can be like New Haven. Taking care of our own and also being there for other people who need help.”
“Yeah. That’s got to be the goal.”
We sit in silence for a minute. When I shoot a quick glance over, I catch him gazing at me while he thought I wasn’t looking.
There’s something in his eyes that startles me.
Ever since the day he and Jackson returned from the trip and he admitted that he missed me, things have been a little different between us. He’s never going to be soft or vulnerable or emotional, but there have occasionally been moments when it’s felt like he let down his guard. Just a tiny bit. When he holds me after sex. When I first wake up in the morning. Yesterday when I was having trouble pulling out a stubborn weed from an expansion to the garden and he came over to help me with it.
He never says anything, but I’m sure I’m not imagining it. It feels like we’re together—more now than ever before.
But the look in his eyes—on his face—right now shocks and thrills me. It’s deep and awed and almost tender. Like something in his heart is spilling out.
I freeze. Hold my breath. Look again to see if I imagined it.
This time he sees me watching, and he stiffens his spine. His expression closes up so quickly I have to wonder if I made the whole thing up.
“Grant?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you… I mean, am I right in thinking that you…” I trail off, trying to figure out how to phrase the helpless question so it doesn’t leave me utterly defenseless.
“Are you right in thinking I what, princess?” His voice is just slightly thick.
I take a deep breath. Wonder if I’m brave enough to do this.
Before I figure out the answer, the sound of shouts outside diverts me completely. I cock my head, trying to listen.
Grant is already on his feet. “It doesn’t sound like an alarm.”
“No. It sounds like folks are excited about something.” I’m still wearing nothing but the panties and tank top I slept in, so I pull on my jeans, top, and shoes as quickly as I can.
Then we head outside to see what’s going on.
Someone is arriving at the farm, and whoever it is must have been traveling all night to get here so early in the morning. The gate is already opening when Grant and I make it down the drive toward the group that’s gathered to wait for the new arrivals.
The first thing I see is a Jeep driving in. Not a souped-up, armored one like Grant drives, but a beat-up old Wrangler with no doors. Behind the wheel is a white man with a look of tough competence, longish, light brown hair, and a shirt with torn-off sleeves.
My heart jumps with excitement at the sight of him. He looks like he knows how to fight. Surely that’s why he’s here right now.
I’ve barely processed his appearance when another man comes in behind him. This one is even more unexpected. He’s a big black man, and he’s riding a horse. And there are four more horses trotting in through the gate behind him.
