He stared at me warily, and then fidgeted. “You said you wouldn’t be mad,” he reminded me, tugging at his shirt sleeves.
“I’m not mad,” I replied patiently. “But I am worried about what you and Desmond talked about.”
“We didn’t talk about much,” he said defensively, and I sighed.
“Cody, I want to believe you, but we both know you don’t want to be here. You could be lying.”
Cody looked away, and then frowned. “Viggo said something the other day. He said that I’m entitled to my feelings. Do you feel that way?”
I chewed on my lip, wondering if this was a distraction technique, or if there was a point to this. I wasn’t sure which it could be, but decided to let it play out. “I do,” I informed him.
“I thought so.” Cody shifted in his seat. “It made me think about a lot of things, you know. About how Desmond gives us the medicine, but it doesn’t make us feel anything, and it made me wonder if… if she would like me without the medicine.”
“Is that why you went to see her?”
He nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the table. “She told me I was such a good boy for finding her, and then asked me to unlock her. I… I thought the key for her chains was on the keyring, but when it wasn’t, she got mad at me. Started saying really mean things, like I was stupid.”
I saw a tear roll down his cheek and reached out to lay a gentle hand on his back. He sniffled, and then wiped his cheeks with the cuff of his jacket. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, and I smiled at him.
“You’re entitled to your feelings, remember?” I said. “I’m just sorry that Desmond said mean things to you.”
Cody met my gaze, his eyes rimmed red. “Can I go back to my room now? I want to be alone.”
“It depends—are you going to be okay?”
He thought about it, and then nodded. “I think so. I just… I need to think.”
“Okay,” I said, standing up. I held out my hand, and, after a moment’s hesitation, he took it, allowing me to lead him back to the barn. It was not hard letting myself hope, even for just a moment, that this was a step forward for Cody. The only thing that kept that hope in check was my sense of caution, urging me to wait and see what he would do in the days to come.
17
Violet
I yawned and flexed my lower back, trying to alleviate the ache that had grown there, and in my shoulders, after several hours of sitting. I’d been awake for sixteen hours, organizing, distributing, moving to our new location, and then unloading. The unpacking process was ongoing, but I had been forced to stop participating, as Henrik wanted me to do a detailed analysis of the barricaded roads into and out of the city.
Releasing the stretch, I fought off another yawn and manipulated my fingers, slightly adjusting the position of the drone I was piloting so that the image on the screen swung around, revealing more of this guard post. Using my thumb, I put the drone into hover mode and grabbed the clipboard next to the box containing its remote controls.
I studied the post, trying to analyze it for weaknesses. Truthfully, the wardens here had not spent their time waiting around while the city had erupted into chaos. For one, they’d made barricades—sometimes with those large concrete slabs that often served as borders between road lanes, but mostly with cars and bits of metal welded together. Regardless of what the blockades were made of, their configuration was usually the same. Two or three concentric rings of barricades, typically with some room in the road for the barricades to be rolled back to allow vehicles to pass through, but heavy enough to seriously cripple any car or truck trying to punch a hole through.
The office building’s defenses were fortified with bits of wood and metal barring the windows, save for small square holes, large enough to fit the muzzle of a rifle through, and with enough room left over to be able to sight down the barrel. A generator connected to massive lights helped illuminate the surrounding area, and many of the places where trees or other objects had obscured the lines of sight from the building were now stripped clean, impossible to sneak through without being spotted well before reaching the barricades.
At most of the guard posts there was also heavier artillery of some kind, mounted on wheels or, more typically, a car. Most of them sported .50 caliber machine guns, but a few had some sort of mortar or grenade launcher of some kind. I wasn’t entirely sure which this one was, but took screenshots using the function Thomas had installed.
I was just finishing noting my observations on blockade number four when the door to the basement opened, breaking my tunnel vision. Looking up, I smiled when I saw Viggo standing on the wooden landing, looking down at me.
“Hey,” I said, setting my clipboard down on the table. “How’d it go with King Maxen?”
Viggo’s boots thumped loudly on the steps, descending in a languid fashion. “Well, he doesn’t get better with time, that’s for sure.”
I winced sympathetically. “He give you a hard time?”
Stepping off the final step, Viggo gave me a droll look. “‘Hard’ would be a massive understatement at this juncture. I can confirm he gave me a headache, though.”
“Oh, poor thing,” I cooed teasingly, standing up and moving over to him. He met me halfway, pulling me into a hug.
“I am a poor thing,” he whispered in my ear, the touch of his breath on the delicate skin sending delicious tendrils of pleasure racing up and down my spine, pooling at the base of it. As if sensing my dilemma, Viggo placed a firm hand over the area, drawing me even tighter against the long solid line of his body, making my breath stutter out of me. “Poorer for having been denied seeing you all day.”
I smiled, losing myself in his embrace for a moment. “You always say the nicest things,” I said, resting my cheek against his chest. “I don’t think I’m as good at that as you are.”
“That’s okay. The relationship can only withstand one awesome partner.”
I pulled back and punched him lightly in the stomach, but I still couldn’t help smiling. Viggo chuckled and tugged me back closer, stooping over so he could press his forehead against mine. “Inconsiderate and violent,” he chided. “Whatever am I going to do with you?”
“Taking me to bed would be nice.” My last words might have gotten lost in the yawn that overtook me, but Viggo understood.
“I thought I told you I wasn’t that kind of guy,” Viggo joked, and I laughed as I slipped free of his hold, moving back over to the remote control. I slid my fingers back into the metallic slots, the cold metal tingling slightly with an electric charge, and then clicked the drone off of hover mode.
“You know what I meant,” I said as I plotted a route to bring the drone back home. I angled it higher, so I could have a less chaotic view of the earth below, and watched the screen closely as the ground flew by in the bright green definition of night vision.
“I do, I do.” I heard him move up behind me. We fell into a comfortable silence while I navigated and he watched. At one point, he picked up my clipboard and began reading. “Your handwriting needs work,” he teased.
“Bite me,” I replied tartly, still smiling.
“I might just do that.”
The silence returned, and I marveled at how pleasant it was to just be around him. We didn’t have to talk; we could just be. I didn’t think I’d ever felt that sort of relaxed sense of safety in my entire life, but if I died tomorrow, I hoped whatever happened next would feel a lot like this.
“How much longer, Vi?”
I blinked my heavy eyelids and crunched some quick numbers. “About five minutes,” I replied.
“Why don’t you just set it down in the field? It’ll keep until morning.”
“Are you sure?”
“We’ve got our meeting with the rebels in a little under five and a half hours, and we’ve been going since, what, six this morning? We could definitely use the sleep.”
He didn’t have to ask me twice, and I quickly landed the drone in one of the empty corn fiel
ds. I clicked off the remote control, knowing we needed to conserve its energy as well, and then stood up, taking another moment to stretch the aching muscles in my back.
Viggo waited patiently for me to be ready, and after I dropped my clipboard with a note on Henrik’s table, I headed toward the stairs with him following, grateful to be going to bed.
My first stop was on the first floor, at the small bedroom across from the stairs. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, looking at where Cody was lying on the bed, Gregory lounging on a plush chair tucked off in the corner, a book in his hands. He looked up as I pushed opened the door, and gave a friendly smile as I poked my head in.
Cody sat up, his blanket falling off his shoulders. “Violet?” he asked, squinting at me, and I realized I might have woken him up.
“I’m sorry, Cody,” I said, taking a step inside. “I just wanted to see how you were settling in.”
He rubbed his eyes and then shrugged. “It’s a nice room,” he said awkwardly, his fingers playing with the edge of his blanket. “The house sounds weird.”
“Is it scary?” I asked, and he gave me a sullen look.
“I don’t get scared,” he said flatly, and I fought back a smile, sensing the bristle around him. He didn’t like that for some reason, so I didn’t prod. Things with Cody after what had happened with Desmond had been going surprisingly well. Granted, it was all through baby steps, but there was something there.
“I’m sorry,” I said ceremoniously. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I just wanted to see if you wanted anything before Viggo and I went up to bed. Some water, or a snack?”
Cody cracked a yawn and then shook his head. “I’m good,” he said, lying back down on the bed.
I turned to Gregory. “You need anything?”
The older man smiled broadly and shook his head. “That was kind of you to ask, but no, I don’t.”
Smiling in response, I closed the door and turned back to Viggo, noting the pleased smile on his lips. “He’s doing better, isn’t he?” he said.
“He is,” I allowed. “I just wish I could trust him completely.”
Viggo didn’t bother to object. We both shared the same fear. Viggo was just being a bit bolder with his hope than I was allowing myself to be.
Another insufferable yawn had my voice cracking as we climbed the stairs leading to the next floor and the three bedrooms there.
Ms. Dale and Henrik had taken the master bedroom—not that we had minded, of course. Since Henrik’s wound still needed dressing, it had seemed best to let them take the room with an enclosed bathroom attached.
I moved for the door on the right end of the hall, pulling it open and looking at Tim and Jay splayed out on the twin beds inside. Both of them were fast asleep, and I could see that they’d had dinner in their room, evidenced by the tin plates, devoid even of crumbs, sitting on the nightstands adjacent to their beds.
Smiling at the picturesque sight, I lingered, trying to commit every detail to memory. Then I closed the door, eager to fall into the soft embrace of our bed. I paused when I saw Viggo looking at me, a hungry spark in his emerald eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. A little too quickly.
“Nuh-uh. Spill. Why were you looking at me like that?” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him, waiting for his answer.
He smirked, and then nodded to the room. “I was just watching you check on the boys, and I thought about how you might be as a mother. I was not opposed to the idea.”
Neither was I, but with everything developing more quickly and feeling more out of control than ever, I hedged the thought, afraid to even entertain the possibility for fear of dreaming of it and then having it cruelly ripped away. I took a deep breath, trying to settle the sudden onset of turmoil, and carefully pushed it to one side.
“Are you okay?” Viggo asked, ever keyed in to my wellbeing. It drew a smile to my lips.
“I’m not,” I admitted honestly, not wanting to push him away. “But it’s the same old doubts as before. What’s going to happen, are we going to make it, will this ever stop feeling so… terrible?”
“Will we ever get to stop saying goodbye?” he added dryly, and I nodded, the smile on my lips tilting up some before going back down, his humorous jab barely softening the weight the truth always brought.
“It’s getting a little old,” I said, and he gave a half chuckle, a quick sound escaping him. “And our luck is going to run out eventually.”
“Don’t say that,” Viggo said darkly, reaching out and grabbing my hand. “Don’t you dare. I’m not dying like this, and neither are you. We’re going to go in our sleep at the exact same time, after we’ve seen our children grown and our grandbabies as well. I want to be a crotchety old man whose nagging wife makes him go out and spend time with his friends. I want to sit by your side on our porch and hold your hand while we watch the sunset. I want every ridiculous moment for every terrible one, and I expect you to give them to me, with no doubt.”
I felt that warm, tingling glow that always flooded me when Viggo talked about the future, his words setting my imagination aflame as I thought about us growing old together. How wonderful it would be to spend a lifetime with my best friend. To raise our children together and watch them grow and develop interests of their own.
“Thank you.” I grinned up at him. “Once again, you always know what to say.”
The intense look in his face softened, and he stepped in close to embrace me. “I just speak from my heart,” he said roughly. “To be honest, though… that growing old thing made me question my heart for a second. I was afraid that picture would be a deal breaker.”
Delighted by his words, I laughed, and pulled back so I could reach up and cup his cheek. “Any picture that involves me and you, any setting, any circumstance—I don’t care if it’s… robots from the moon or whatever! If that’s your picture of us, then I’m happy, because I’ll be with you.”
Viggo gave me a stunned look, and then smiled a deliciously slow, smoldering smile. “That’s the type of language you use to tell a man you appreciate him,” he said, his voice husky and rough, making me shiver slightly. “That’s how you win the most awesome partner.”
My grin widened, and I pulled away from him, reluctantly, heading to our bedroom. I liked our bedroom; it was quaint. The bed was a bit old, but it was sturdy and big enough to hold the two of us, and that was what I cared about. Viggo and I moved in comfortable silence around the room, undressing and preparing for bed. I brushed my teeth in the bathroom, and then washed my face, using a little bit of the face cream Amber had given me. I had never considered myself a face cream person, but Amber had sold me on it the first day I’d begrudgingly tried it, when my face didn’t feel so dry.
The bedsprings squeaked and rattled as Viggo got into bed, and I turned in time to see his long legs disappearing under the covers. His chest was bare, and I felt my mouth go dry as I saw the strong lines of his pecs crossing his chest, almost leading my eye to the deep furrow that defined the center of his abs, straight down his body, until it disappeared beneath the covers. The only imperfections were those small puckered scars, still pink and fresh, one over his heart, the other on his upper ribcage.
I myself was only wearing a pair of shorts and a thin shirt. While there was a definite chill in the air, I had learned a long time ago that sleeping next to Viggo was like sleeping next to a furnace. I didn’t need much on to stay warm, and it was something I was entirely grateful for, especially as the nights grew colder.
He smiled in the periphery of my vision, and as I looked up to meet his gaze, I could see the knowing look he was giving me. His hand patted the empty space next to him, and I moved over to the bed, drawing the cover back and lying down.
We had just started to settle into each other, taking a few moments to adjust our limbs and bodies until we were intertwined and pressed together closer than should’ve been possible, when a sharp rap sounded on the doo
r.
“Are you decent?” Henrik’s deep voice rolled through the door, and I exchanged a brief and confused look with Viggo. My first thought was that he didn’t like where I’d parked the drone.
“Ish,” retorted Viggo. “But you can come in.”
We disentangled ourselves as the door swung open, and Henrik entered, shutting the door behind him. Viggo stood up and put on an old t-shirt while Henrik waited. Once he was properly attired, he went over and shook the older man’s hand.
“What’s up?” he asked.
Henrik just smiled as Viggo grabbed a chair, bringing it to the foot of our bed, where Henrik dropped into it like all his strength had deserted him. “Thank you,” he said.
I shifted down on the bed some, but kept the covers draped over me, unwilling to face the cold again. Viggo sat down next to me, but we were both focused on Henrik.
He stared at us, and then leaned back in the chair slightly, resting an elbow over its wooden back. “I was going to start with small talk, but, well, there’s no sense in dragging the suspense out. I have something I want to give you—both of you.”
“What is it?” I asked, intrigued.
Henrik hesitated, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden box, about half the size of my palm. “Here.”
He offered it to me, and I took it, examining it. It was simple, plain, although the stain on the wood had a slight red tinge to it. As I shifted it to examine the seams, I heard something inside bounce and jingle, as though two metal objects had hit together. My curiosity intensifying, I examined the box more closely, and then finally pulled back the lid, revealing two wedding bands resting inside.
My head snapped up, the words coming from my mouth taking on a life of their own in their haste to understand what I was looking at. “Where did you get these, and why are you giving them to us?”
“Call it a belated engagement gift,” Henrik announced politely. “I didn’t steal them, if that’s your worry. Nor did I scavenge them. They belonged to my daughter and her husband.”