Something to Die For by Kaye Blue

Forty-Two

Lucas

“Do you need to rest?”

It was the first thing she had said in hours.

“Probably not a bad idea,” I said.

“Pull over. I can drive,” she said.

I shook my head and kept driving, looking for a safer place.

“We both need the rest,” I said.

“I guess,” she responded.

“You disagree?”

“It’s just…”

“I know what happened last time, and I won’t let it happen again,” I said.

She looked at me, her expression unreadable. But then she nodded.

I kept driving until I found a clearing, one with weeds tall enough to hide the truck.

I pulled off, quickly surveyed the area, and then leaned back in the seat.

There were things to talk about, a lot of them, but we both needed the rest, and far sooner than I was expecting, I drifted off to sleep.

When I awoke, it was nearly morning but still dark, and Angel still slept.

I looked at her for a moment, the relief I felt unlike anything I ever had, a feeling so strong it almost took my breath away.

“You’re smiling,” she said without opening her eyes.

“You sound surprised by that,” I responded.

“Not something you do much of.” She shrugged and sat up.

“Not something I ever had much reason to do,” I countered.

“You do now?” she asked.

Her voice was brimming with something, a sound, an emotion I couldn’t quite identify.

But I didn’t try too hard. Instead, I told her the truth.

“Yeah. I do,” I said.

She reached for my hand, closed her smaller fingers around mine, and my smile got bigger.

“You know we’re going to be okay,” I said.

“Yeah, I do,” she responded.

* * *

Lucas

A few days later,she looked at me, a small smile playing on her face. “You sure about that?”

“About what?” I responded, distracted as I stared under the hood of the truck.

“That we’re going to be okay?”

I smiled, a feeling of peace coming over me despite the circumstances.

“Yeah. I am. But not with this piece of junk,” I responded.

She came to stand next to me and looked under the hood, her face intent.

“You know how to fix cars, too?”

“No. This might as well be a spaceship. I have no idea what I’m looking at. But this is what they do in the movies,” she said.

I laughed, and she did too before I slowly lowered the hood.

“Well,” I said, sobering, “I know little bit about a little bit, but the transmission on this is shot. Nothing I can do to fix it.”

“So we’re on foot?”

“Yeah,” I responded.

She said nothing, didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she went to the back and began dividing the supplies.

“Don’t forget your socks,” I said with a chuckle.

“That was the first thing I put in there,” she said, a smile on her face.

Even though the last few days had been tense, the worry about the camp and what we might find ahead ever-present, it felt like the smile had never left her face.

She handed me one bag, and I took it, then tested hers.

It was heavy, heavier than I wanted her to carry, so after adjusting a few things, I closed it and handed it back to her.

“I hate leaving all this food and water,” she said, looking at the back of the vehicle.

“Me too. But we have ammunition, and we have as much as we can carry. And besides, we’re going to be on foot, so we can’t be too weighed down.

“All right. But before we go, let’s have a picnic,” she said.

“Picnic?” I furrowed my brows.

“Yeah, I mean we’re not going to have sandwiches and fresh fruit or wine, but we can make something with,” she squinted at several of the cans, “Vienna sausages, baked beans, and—the pièce de résistance—canned peaches.”

I smiled, her good cheer infectious.

And I did something I never would have imagined myself doing, with someone I never would have imagined doing it with.

She spread a Mylar blanket on the grass and then set about making the meal, and I watched her, felt those emotions so new, so potent, back again.

Yet I still couldn’t make myself say them out loud.

Instead, when she looked at me, her expression quizzical, I smiled.

She returned the smile then served up the food, which we ate in silence.

“This was nice,” she said.

“Yeah, it was,” I responded.

She looked at me, her expression intense, and then she hugged me. Held me as tight as I think she ever had.

“Angel…”

She shook her head quickly, and then kissed me.

I pulled back, met her eyes, searching. “Angel, there’s no need—”

“I want this, Lucas. Need it,” she said, her eyes watering, though she smiled.

I smiled back, fought back the tears that I could feel building in my own eyes.

And then I kissed her, told her with my body what I wasn’t brave enough to say with my words.

Promised to love her forever.