by C S Carver
And smash right into Devon.
“Shit—” I drop my clothes and grab the towel as it unravels, clutching it in front of my junk.
“I’m so sorry,” Devon says as he braces one hand against the wall. “I came to drop off some clean clothes and—” He looks up at me and swallows. His large, gray eyes widen and pink blotches blossom across his cheeks. “Oh—um—I—”
He thrusts a bundle into my arms, then hurries back down the hall and disappears around the corner. I stare after him, unsure of what just happened. Was he—no way. He was probably just shocked that he’d invited a neanderthal into his home. I pick up my dirty clothes and walk back to the guest room at a more civilized pace, then unfurl the soft bundle in my arms.
A tA thick flannel shirt shirt, a blue t-shirt, boxers, sweatpants, and a pair of warm wool socks. My skin tingles in delight at not having to crawl back into my pile of soiled grossness. I put on the clothes and shudder as clean soft cotton brushes my damp skin. Feeling more human than I have in a while, I allow myself a small, contented sigh.
Maybe this is the universe telling me everything will be okay. That there are still good people in the world. Who knew clean laundry could be so uplifting?
Refreshed, I shove my things into my backpack. Max has fresh clothes on as well, and he’s snoring in the double bed. Guess I’m sleeping on the floor tonight. I make a face at Max's sleeping form before shutting the door and heading toward the living room.
Roxy is helping Kenzie up the stairs and they nod when I wish them a good night as I pass them. I stop beside Devon in the kitchen and try not to salivate into the large, bubbling pot as he ladles stew into a bowl. The rich aroma of beef stew hits me in the face like a sledgehammer, and my stomach stabs my insides and twists the knife.
“Everyone else has gone to bed,” he says, handing me the stew.
I take the bowl and swallow the drool pooling under my tongue. “Thanks for the clothes.”
His cheeks are pink from the steaming pot. “You’re welcome. They are—were—my brother-in-law’s. Sarah was right. You two are about the same size.”
Were his brother-in-law’s? I frown and my chest tightens. “I’m so—”
“It’s okay.” He gives me a sad smile. “Hunting accident.”
“When?”
“Over the summer. Timing kinda sucked since he and my sister really looked forward to having a kid together, but I guess there’s no good timing for dying.”
My grip tightens around the bowl. “Not really.” Then his words hit me. “Wait, Sarah’s your sister?” I blame my hunger-addled brain and the distracting way Devon’s sandy blond hair keeps falling in his eyes for that to not click earlier.
“Yeah. Did you think the baby was mine?”
I scratch the back of my neck and duck my head. “Well, if you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you?”
He grins. “I suppose.” He hands me a spoon and nods toward the table. “Go eat before your food gets cold.”
I flash him a flirty grin, something I haven’t felt like doing since before our settlement got destroyed, then jam the spoon into the thick stew. I take a seat at the dinner table and shovel a spoonful into my mouth.
The beef is rich and fatty, the gravy thick and seasoned with aromatic herbs and spices. Large chunks of potatoes and carrots add a sweetness that rounds the whole thing into an amazing flavour party in my mouth. I moan softly, my eyes rolling back into my head, then I proceed to demolish the bowl. It’s not until I’m licking the last of the gravy off the spoon that I look up to find Devon staring at me, his cheeks rosier than ever.
Huh.
I give the spoon another slow and deliberate lick, dragging the flat of my tongue across the silver curve. Devon’s eyes snap to the dishes he’s doing. The corners of my lips curl despite my efforts to keep a straight face as I take my empty bowl to the sink. I nudge Devon out of the way to pick up the washcloth and a dirty bowl. Teasing aside, it’s the least I can do. “Thank you for the lovely meal.”
“You’re, ah, welcome,” he says and takes a deep breath.
Everything about him makes me want to smile, so I give into the urge and beam at him.
CHAPTER TWO
IT’S BEEN THREE days since we stumbled onto Devon’s farm, and the storm rages on. And on. And on.
Kenzie has been ordered to stay put, but the rest of us do what we can around the house. Sarah and Devon had protested at first, but it didn’t take much convincing for them to let us help. Once the baby arrives, they’re not going to have time to play catch-up.
Max and I work with Devon around the farm, and there's tons to do despite the nasty weather. After the deaths and the ensuing panic caused by the Pandemic, life carried on. Exercise has always been my escape, my chance to find clarity, and I never missed a workout on top of my daily responsibilities. Farm work is kind of like that. It’s back-breaking, but satisfying, and I find myself looking forward to heading out at the ass crack of dawn.
Physical labor isn’t the only thing I look forward to.
I glance at Devon as he heaves a forkful of hay into the feeder and grin. I can’t see through his coat, but I can imagine his shifting muscles as he works. Max left for the house loaded with fresh eggs and a large bucket of milk, so I allow myself to slack off and admire the view.
Devon pulls off his glove and runs slender fingers through his sweat-matted hair, then leans over and picks up his bottle. He throws his head back and gulps icy water, and heat pools low in my belly as I watch his throat work with each swallow.
He’s slender with a delicate air about him that hides his strength. When he works, his movements are fluid and efficient. Graceful. Which is more than can be said about Max and me. We’re both strong, but carrying gear and running into a burning building requires explosive energy and brute force. It’s nothing like Devon’s display of sustained power as he plows through his chores like a machine.
He looks up and startles as our eyes meet, then flashes a hasty smile before turning away. I chuckle and turn back to my task. Since that first night in the kitchen, I’ve caught Devon staring at me when he thinks I'm not looking. There’s something bashful about his stolen glances, and the innocence of it lifts a weight I’ve been carrying since the settlement was attacked.
As much as I enjoy the attention, though, I won’t act on it. We’re alive because of Devon and Sarah, and the last thing I need is to fuck things up for all of us. My dick can bitch all it wants, but it’s not going to happen.
Betsy, the milk cow, snorts, and I stare into her liquid brown eyes. She gives me an accusatory glare as if she can read my less than honorable thoughts and my neck grows warm. Damn Betsy and her damn big eyes that see right through me. I scowl at her and give her flank a swat. She flicks her ears at me before leaning down to pick at a piece of straw by her hoof.
“You done brushing them down?” Devon says, his voice closer than I expected.
My breath hitches but I don’t jump. Thank God. “Um, yeah, she’s the last one.” I turn to find Devon standing a few feet away. He’s traded his work gloves for mitts and he's putting on his hat.
“Lets head back for some lunch. I’m starving,” he says.
“No complaints here.”
I put the brush away and lead Betsy back to her stall. Devon waits for me to get bundled up, then we close up the barn and head back to the house.
~*~*~
We have scrambled eggs on toast and pan fried potatoes for lunch, all washed down with a giant glass of warm milk. Max sits with Sarah, and the two have their heads bent together as they murmur to each other. Sarah’s glowing, and she throws her head back and laughs every time Max says something funny. They’ve become friendly over the last three days, but today is the first time she covered his hand with hers as they sit together. Something neither Devon nor I miss.
“So, Max is into my sister, huh?” Devon says from under the bathroom sink as he fixes the leaky pipe.
I grimace. “Shit. I
can tell him to back off if you wa—”
“It’s okay.” He pops out and gives me a smile, then ducks back under. “Since Scott passed, Sarah’s been putting on a brave face. But I can tell she’s lonely. I know it’s only been a few months since Scott died, but I think she really likes him.”
“Oh.”
“Can you turn on the water?” Devon says with a grunt as he sits up from under the sink. I oblige and he continues, “It’s like humanity errored out and got a reboot. Now there are so few of us left. Our immunity is a gift, a second chance. If Sarah and Max see something in each other, who am I to say it’s wrong?”
He looks up at me with his smiling gray eyes and my throat tightens.
It’s been ten years since that god awful day. Ten years of living with the guilt and the shame of surviving because the virus had no effect on me. Ten years of recognizing that same haunted shadow on the faces of others who watched their loved ones die painful, gruesome deaths. I saw so much savagery and bullshit while we struggled to rebuild. And just when I thought maybe we’d moved past all the panic and destruction, those Northern bastards came into my home and butchered my friends.
Then here’s this guy, living on his farm, sheltered from the real world, spewing shit like gifts and second chances. They have a baby coming. A new life for the virus to snuff out. If not the virus, what’s stopping some other crazy gang or cult from coming in here and slitting all their throats?
Devon stares at me, his brows knitted, and I want to punch the naivety off his face. “You all right?” Even his soft, caring voice pisses me off.
“I’m fine.” I grit my teeth and inhale through my nose.
“No, you’re not. Are you sick?” He takes a step toward me and my blood boils. He needs to get away from me, or I need to get away from him before I do something stupid.
I jam my hands into my pockets and head for the door. “I should go do a water run to the barn.”
“Wait—” Devon grabs my elbow. “I’ll come with—”
The contact snaps something in me and I spin around with a snarl. He skids to a stop, his nose inches from mine, and his lips part with a soft gasp. I grab the front of his flannel and crowd into him. He shuffles backwards and grunts when he hits the edge of the counter.
I want to shake some sense into him. Want to scream that he needs to stop being so goddamn trusting. That our world has gone to shit and humanity is a disease. We should have gotten shut-down instead of a reboot.
His wide, frightened eyes search my face, and I find myself exposed and judged and found wanting.
“There are no second chances,” I hiss.
He stares at me for a beat longer and his expression softens. He cups my jaw, and the warmth of his palm seeps through my skin. “We all deserve a second chance.” He strokes my cheek. The slow, deliberate sweep of his thumb matches my heaving chest, and my breathing slows with every pass.
He sighs, and there’s understanding in his eyes. As if he knows what I’ve done, what I’ve been through. But there’s no judgment, no accusation, only a faint, sad smile and the constant pressure of his palm against my cheek.
I lean into his touch and shudder, my skin buzzing, and I find myself reflected in the depth of his beautiful gray eyes. We’re so close I can make out the faint splash of freckles across the bridge of his nose and taste his breath.
Devon’s tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip, and I swallow. I shouldn’t do this. I don’t have the right, but—
My lips press against his, and their warmth is a soothing balm on my jagged nerves. He blinks, stunned, but his hesitation is short lived and he kisses me back a split second later. My grip tightens around the front of his shirt and I yank him close, my eyes fluttering shut as I capture his mouth like I need the air from his lungs.
He tastes better than I imagined. Like the sweetness of a fond memory. His arms snake around my shoulders, his fingers tangling in my hair, and he lets out a trembling sigh. My lips tingle, and my tongue darts out to swipe against the seam of his mouth.
He opens up, and the tip of my tongue finds his. God, I’ve forgotten how good a kiss can feel. How good it tastes. His scent, his fingers in my hair, his soft whimpers, they assault me in the most delicious way and I feel drunk. Devon sucks my tongue into his mouth and nibbles, and the sharp prick of his teeth shoots a jolt of pleasure straight to my dick.
I grind into him and groan when his hard bulge presses against my erection. He gasps, his body going rigid, and he rips his lips from me as if electrocuted.
All we did was kiss and already he looks wrecked. His eyes sparkle, his hair wild—I don’t even remember getting my hands on his hair—and his cheeks are the prettiest shade of pink.
I blink, dazed and kiss-drunk, and reach for him. He inhales sharply and pulls back, and the fire in my belly turns to ice.
“Oh—” he breathes, touching a trembling finger to his kiss-swollen lips. “God—I—I'm sorry, I need to—” He slides past me and out the door.
Shit.
~*~*~
Devon avoids me after the thing in the bathroom, but his eyes are on me even more than before. It’s obvious he enjoyed the kiss, so what gives?
I huff out a sigh and watch my breath plume, my fingertips numb from the cold as I milk the cow. Sarah asked Max for help around the house, so it’s just Devon and me slaving after the animals. Which suits me fine. Max has always been too observant for his own good, and he already gave me a questioning look this morning at breakfast when he caught Devon and me playing eyeball chicken.
We go through the usual routine, but there’s something in the air that makes the back of my neck prick. The normal me, the me who doesn't care what people think, would have asked what his problem is. But I choke every time I try to talk to him because my heart flutters and fear twists in my gut and I get that same breath-hitching and heart-pounding rush I did when I first met Meg.
Nope. Not going there.
As I fork the last of the hay into the feeder, I glance at Devon and our eyes meet.
“I think we’re all done here.” I try to ignore the heat rising from beneath my collar. “We can do another water run this afternoon, or make Max do it.”
Devon nods but says nothing. Silence stretches between us, and I take a deep breath before breaking eye contact. I don’t get this guy. Just as well. Not like we have the luxury for courtship. Not that I want to court him. For fuck’s sake. I yank on my mitts and jam my hat on my head, then head for the door.
“Zane.” Devon’s voice is so soft I almost miss it. “Zane, wait,” he calls out louder.
I freeze, my hand inches from the handle, and turn toward him. “What’s up?”
He closes the distance between us in long strides and stops right before me. “Wait. Can we…can we talk?”
“About what?”
“Yesterday.”
My heart skips a beat. I made a move, he liked it, then rejected me. Not sure I want to psychoanalyze it and share our feelings. But a part of me is curious. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I—” He stares at his boots. “I’m sorry for freaking out like that.”
I turn and cross my arms. I don’t want to come off as an asshole, but I don’t know what to make of this and that puts me on edge. “It’s okay, I guess.”
“No. No, it’s not.”
“What do you want me to say, Devon?” He flinches and I bite the inside of my cheek. Fuck, that didn’t sound so aggressive in my head.
“I just, I don’t know,” he says miserably. “You caught me by surprise.”
I lean against the door and chuckle. His eyes snap up and there’s fire in them. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. Just, what happened yesterday surprised me too.”
His shoulders relax a smidgen. “Seemed like you knew exactly what you were doing.”
“It was just kissing, not rocket science.”
“It is to me.”
My back stiffens and I stare at him. “What?”
His cheeks burn a toasty pink and he avoids my eyes. “I’ve never—you’re—”
“You’ve never kissed anyone before?” He shakes his head, and the floor drops from under me. “Fuck, really?”
“It’s not a big deal…right?”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
I whistle low. “How the hell have you not—”
“Look—” He pins me with his gaze. “I grew up on the farm, we all did, and I was helping run the place as soon as I could hold a shovel.”
“Surely you got to fool around at school?”
“Home schooled. I was going to go to college, but…”
“Shit hit the fan before you got the chance.” He nods again, but this time he doesn’t look away. I know he’s an adult, and he kissed me back, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like a creep who takes advantage of innocent boys. “Christ on a cracker.” I huff out a sigh.
If Devon wasn’t off limits before, he certainly is now. Post apocalypse or not, I won’t be that guy. I can’t. There’s something special about being someone’s first, and it always gets complicated. I don’t deserve that level of special, and I definitely don’t need complicated.
Devon’s brows furrow. “Do you…regret what we did?”
“We hardly did anything.”
“I know,” he says, pauses, then adds, “I’d like to do more.”
My breath catches and guilt punch through me. He wants to do more. Four days ago he was just a hot guy I wouldn’t mind seeing naked. Now I’m not so sure. I can handle coy flirtation and playing hard to get, but this, this is something else. He’s so earnest and good and I’m none of those things. And for the first time in a long time that bothers me.
“I like you, Zane,” he says when I don’t respond. “And I think you like me too.” His blush deepens. My heart pounds a loud beat, and I blink as if trying to wake up. “But I get it if you don't want to get involved with someone so inexperience—”