by Claire Kent
“I didn’t need help. I’m perfectly capable of doing some work. And I’d rather you get your ankle better.”
“It’s fine.”
I step over to pick up the ice and look at the ankle. It’s still swollen and ugly. “Do you need some ibuprofen?”
He grunts.
I think he probably means the grunt to be a no, but I pretend it’s a yes and go get him some pills.
I find some corn bread mix in the cellar—just add water—and I bake it to eat with our chili for lunch. I dig around and also find some bottles of Coke. We’ve got ice now, so we split a bottle, and nothing has ever tasted as good as that Coke does.
I’m washing the dishes after lunch when I glance out back. I’ve been checking every half hour or so, and I jerk in surprise when I see something out by the dog dish.
“Travis,” I hiss. “The dog! The dog!”
Travis has been sitting at the table, grumbling about not being able to help clean up, but he jumps up and joins me by the window.
The dog looks like a mutt, but it’s at least partly Australian shepherd. It’s scarily skinny with long, matted hair. It gobbles up the food I put out in no time.
“Where’s that jerky?” I ask, speaking in a whisper as if the dog could hear us inside the house. “I want to see if I can get it to come inside.”
“It’s gonna be half-wild by now. Might not be friendly.”
“I know that, but I want to try.”
Travis is already handing me a piece of his jerky, which he left on the counter with the rest of our food supplies. I take it and step outside.
“Hey, buddy,” I say in my sweetest voice, crouching down near the back door.
The dog has been licking his empty bowl, but he jerks his head up at my appearance. He backs off with a low growl.
“It’s okay, buddy. We’re real nice. We’ve got more food for you if you want it.” I tear a small piece of the jerky off and toss it to the dog.
The animal sniffs it suspiciously and then gulps it down.
“See. Yummy. I’ve got some more if you’ll come closer.” I toss another piece, this one not as far away from me.
The dog inches up slowly, his eyes focused on me. Then he lunges for the jerky. I put down another piece, this one just a foot away from me.
He comes to get that one too.
Now I take a piece and extend it in my hand. “You want this one too? You can have it. We’re really nice. We’ll treat you good.”
It takes a minute before the dog decides the food is worth the risk, but he eventually steps over and takes the food out of my hand.
I stroke his dirty head, and his long tail gives a little wag. “Good boy. You’re such a good boy. You did so good to stay alive for so long.”
The dog wags some more—tentative, hopeful swipes of his tail—and it almost makes me cry.
I give him the rest of the jerky, then glance back to see that Travis is coming to join me with another piece of jerky in his hand.
The dog backs away and growls at the sight of Travis, but he eventually comes back to get the food. He lets Travis pet him too.
“Poor fella,” Travis murmurs, scratching the dog’s ears. “You musta had a real bad time of it out here on your own. I’m real sorry your owner died.”
“Do you think he’ll come inside?” I ask softly. “I’d like to clean him up some and see if some of these cuts on him need doctoring.”
“We can try. I saw some dog stuff inside, so the guy who lived here must have brought him in sometimes.”
We spend the next hour working with the dog, getting him inside, giving him another bowl of food and some water, then cleaning him up as much as we can. When we’re done, the dog walks over to a small rug in front of the woodstove in the living room and curls up on it to sleep.
I’m smiling like a fool. “That must be his spot,” I say. “Look how happy he is.”
“Poor fella.” Travis is leaning against a wall, his eyes on the dog. “At least he’ll have a couple of days here with us.”
“Yeah.” I notice the way Travis is lifting his ankle to keep from putting weight on it. “You better go lie down again and rest your ankle. I’m going to heat up some water and then take a shower since I feel kind of yuck.”
Travis grunts and doesn’t move, so I just leave him as I go to turn on the water heater in the bathroom and then clean up the supplies from our work with the dog.
I find another soft button-up shirt to put on after my shower since my clothes are still drying on the line outside. Then I close the bathroom door, strip, and step into the shower.
The hottish water feels just as good today as it did yesterday. I stand and let it hit my face and stream down my body. I braided my hair earlier, so I just leave it in the braids, allowing them to get wet. No need to wash my hair again.
I’m just starting to soap up when I feel a draft of cold air. I give a little squeal when someone steps into the shower with me.
Travis. Totally naked and now as wet as I am.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my shock turning into giggles.
“Takin’ a shower. Figured you’d use all the hot water, so I better share.” His tone is warm and teasing, and I love the sound of it. He’s not like this very often.
“And you didn’t think about asking first?”
“You don’t wanna share?” He takes the soap from my hand. “I can help you clean up real good.”
We have a little scuffle over the soap until I give up. “I don’t think cleaning is what you had in mind when you got in here.”
“Why d’you say that?” He’s rubbing the soap all over my chest and belly.
I reach down to grab his erection with both hands. “Because of this.”
“That’s just ’cause you’re naked.”
“So you don’t want to have sex again?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say no. But not gonna push.” There’s still a smile in his voice, and his hands are moving all over me.
I really like how they feel, but I’m feeling more affectionate than urgent. “We just had sex a few hours ago.”
“So you don’t wanna?”
“I don’t know. Better finish cleaning me up. Then I can clean you up. Then I can decide.”
Travis seems perfectly amenable to that suggestion. He gives my body a leisurely rubdown, and then I do the same with him.
I really like how tense his body gets when I touch it, when I stroke it, when I feel him all over. I glance up and see that his blue-gray eyes have gone hot.
I’m having a good time, but he’s definitely more aroused than I am. He hisses every time I brush against his erection.
It gives me an idea.
I’ve never done it before, but it might be fun to try.
And I want to make Travis feel as good as he always makes me feel.
I rearrange myself so that I can sit down on the small seat at the corner of the shower. That gets me closer to the level of his groin.
“What you doin’?” he asks thickly, looking down at me.
I reach out to pull him closer and then take the hard length of him in my hands. “I wanted to try something.”
“Try somethin’?”
“Yes. Try something.”
His penis twitches in my hands. “You... you mean...”
“Yes. That’s what I mean. But I’ve never done it before, so I’m not going to be any good at it.”
“You’re not gonna hear me complain.”
“I’m serious. I really don’t know what I’m going. So if I do a bad job—”
“You’re not gonna do a bad job, Layne.”
“How do you know? All I’m saying is it’s fine if you tell me if I’m not doing it right. It won’t hurt my feelings. I’m sure I’ll do better with some practice. I don’t know any techniques or anything.”
He makes a weird growly sound. “You don’t need practice, Layne. I’ll like anythin’ you do to me. If a man has a woman willin’ to put her mou
th on him and he whines about her techniques, then he don’t deserve her at all.” He reaches down to hold my head with both his hands. “You do anythin’ you want. Anythin’ that feels right to you.”
“But what if I hurt you or something?” I’m touched by his words but also a little nervous. I genuinely have no idea how to do this.
He smiles. Almost tender. “I’ll let you know if you hurt me, but I don’t think it’ll happen.”
I give a firm nod. “Okay. Here goes.”
I stroke him with my fingers for a minute, thrilled when the muscles of his thighs and belly tighten. Then I lean over and flick the tip of his erection with my tongue.
He makes a choked sound, and his hands tighten on my head.
I figure that’s encouraging.
I take the tip in my mouth and suck it like a lollipop.
His hips give a little jerk as he gasps.
I let him slip from my mouth and look up.
“Fuck, Layne.” He’s wet and flushed and gorgeous. “Your technique is top-notch.”
I laugh at that and get back to business.
I lick and caress him for a while until I get brave enough to take him more fully in my mouth. I’m not about to deep-throat him. My gag reflex would trigger for sure. But I take as much of him in my mouth as possible and suck, using my hand to squeeze the base of his erection.
I experiment until I get a rhythm that feels natural, and I raise my eyes to check his face.
He’s staring down at me like I’m food to a starving man. His hips have started rocking very slightly to my rhythm, and his hands are holding my head firmly. He grunts each time I suck.
It feels like this is working—for him and for me—so I continue, hollowing out my cheeks as I suck and gradually accelerating my rhythm.
It’s a weird feeling. Intense. Intimate. Sexy in a very vulnerable way.
But I’m loving how he’s responding to me. I love that needy look in his eyes and the way he can’t keep his hips still.
I hold on to his clenching ass with my free hand and keep going.
It doesn’t really take very long until I feel Travis falling out of rhythm. His grunts are getting louder, and his fingers dig into my skull.
“Fuck,” he rasps, his hips jerking urgently, threatening to hit the back of my throat. “Oh fuck, darlin’. I’m gonna—”
With a strangled cry, he pulls himself out of my mouth and lifts my head. I keep squeezing him with my hand as he comes. There isn’t much semen since he came a few hours ago, but what there is hits me just above my chest.
We’re both gasping as Travis pulls me to my feet and wraps his arms around me. The water is still warmish, but it’s getting cooler. Pretty soon the hot water will be gone.
I don’t care. I feel really good. I love the way Travis is holding me.
I don’t want him to let me go.
“Thank you,” he murmurs against my wet hair. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I pull back and smile up at him.
For just a moment, I’m sure he’s going to kiss me. He’s got that look in his eyes—the one that feels like it should lead into a kiss.
But it doesn’t.
He doesn’t.
He just smiles back.
“You want me to do somethin’ for you?”
“Nah. I’m a little crampy again, and I mostly feel like a nap.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a nap. Haven’t had one in ages.”
“Then let’s do it. Let’s take a nap.” I reach behind me to turn off the water. “The dog has the right idea for the afternoon.”
We follow the dog’s example. We dry off, get under the covers, and go to sleep.
IT’S LATE AFTERNOON when I wake up.
I’m warm, comfortable, and filled with that heavy satisfaction of sleeping deeply. I blink as I process that I’m snuggled up at Travis’s side.
We weren’t touching when I went to sleep, but we are now.
We’re touching all over. His arm is wrapped around me, and my cheek is resting against his skin. One of my arms is draped over his belly.
I adjust slightly so I can see his face.
He’s awake. Watching me quietly.
I give him a groggy smile. “Did I roll over on you?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
“Sorry.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry for. I don’t mind.” He’s not moving me. He’s holding me snugly against him with one arm.
I have no reason not to believe him. Maybe he doesn’t mind my cuddling this way.
I decide not to move. I like how it feels right here.
He just showered a couple of hours ago, but he’s already smelling faintly like Travis. I nestle in closer.
He uses his free hand to brush some loose strands of hair out of my face. The rest of it is still in damp, messy braids.
“That was a good nap,” I say.
“Yep.”
“Did you sleep?”
“’Bout an hour.”
“And you’ve been lying here awake since then?”
“Sure. Didn’t wanna wake you. And you’ve been bossin’ me all day about restin’ my ankle.”
I snicker and squeeze his side, searching for any soft flesh to get ahold of. There isn’t any. Every part of the man is firm. “You do need to rest your ankle.”
“That’s what I’ve been doin’.”
“When was the last time you took a nap?”
“No idea.” He looks up for a moment. Then adds, “Guess right after Grace was born. She’d cry half the night, poor thing. I’d take naps on Sunday afternoons. We were exhausted.”
“I bet you were.” I’m surprised that he’s sharing, but I don’t want to sound shocked. I don’t want to make a big deal about it, or he might shut down again.
“Cheryl had trouble breastfeeding, so we used a bottle half the time. I’d try to do my part—gettin’ up in the night to feed Grace. Then I’d go into the garage and work all day and come home to do it again. I was dead on my feet for months.”
“I believe it. My grandma used to say that God did it on purpose—made new parents so exhausted that they wouldn’t have the energy to really process what it meant that they now have a child.”
Travis huffs. Seems to think about it for a minute. Then snorts in amusement. “Yeah. Sounds ’bout right.”
I really want to ask a question, but I don’t know if I dare.
I stay cuddled against his side, stroking his belly lightly. Finally I ask in a mild, casual voice, “What happened with you and Cheryl?”
He gives a half shrug. His expression is resigned. “We got divorced. Right before impact. We got married when we were eighteen—right after high school. We were happy for a while. She’s a good woman. We just didn’t really... match, and we didn’t know it till it was too late. Got married too young. Then we both grew up and realized we didn’t... fit. Anyway, we were fightin’ all the time. Ready to call it quits. Then Cheryl got pregnant. Surprised us both. So we decided to stick it out.”
My heart is beating quickly, and I’m not really sure why. In excitement, I guess. At Travis opening up to me like this when he never has before. “But it still didn’t work?”
“Nah. Babies can’t fix what’s already broken. So we called it quits after all. Divorce came through just before the asteroid hit. But then...” He shrugs again, one of his hands idly holding my braid. “Everythin’ was different. She and Grace moved back in with me when things started to go bad. Not that we were married anymore—but Grace needed both of us to take care of her. Then Grace got sick and kept getting sicker.”
When Travis doesn’t continue, I ask softly, “What happened to Cheryl?”
“She left. With the rest of the town.”
That astonishes me so much I can’t guard my reaction. I sit up straight in bed and stare with wide eyes. “She left? She left you and Grace?”
“Don’t make it sound like that.” Travis’s voice is low and rough. “Wasn’t like that. I’m not her husband anymore. Just Grace’s father. And Grace was...” He clears his throat and turns his face away from me. “Grace was as good as dead.”
“But she left.”
“I don’t think she woulda left Grace if she didn’t already know I was stayin’. We knew Grace only had a few more weeks, and leavin’ Meadows was Cheryl’s only chance to survive. She knew I’d take care of Grace till the end. It hurt her real bad to leave. She didn’t have a real choice. I don’t blame her. Don’t want you to blame her either.”
I swallow hard and nod. I’m still sitting up, and I reach over to stroke Travis’s face until he turns to look up at me again. “Okay. I get it. It’s not fair to judge people. I know that. Desperation like this makes us do things we never would have done otherwise. Sometimes we end up doing things that feel... unnatural.”
“Yeah.” Travis’s voice is still hoarse, and his eyes are aching and vulnerable. “She was always a good woman. I still love her. Not right that she had to leave her daughter just so she could survive. I was the one who had a chance to make it on my own. I was the one who needed to stay.”
I somehow know that Travis never would have left his daughter even if he hadn’t had a chance to survive.
That’s the kind of man he is.
“Really hope she’s okay,” he adds.
I try to ignore how much it bothered me to hear him say he still loves her.
Things might be different between them when he finds her again. If they still love each other, they might want to give it another go.
He’s so worried about her. He wants to reach her again.
It’s perfectly natural, and there’s nothing about it that I should begrudge.
“Hopefully you’ll be able to find her,” I say, my voice wobbling only slightly.
“Yeah. And hopefully you’ll be able to find all the people you care about too.”
“Yes. Before the drove gets there.”
Travis is watching me closely. I can feel his eyes on my face. “Think we better stay here at least one more day. My ankle’s still pretty bad.”
“I know. There’s no sense in leaving if you’re not mobile. We’d just get killed.”