Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(87)

When I’m done, he rises, and simply says, “Thank you.”

I push up on my cane. “Will you come to see him?”

“I don’t know yet. I need time to think about it.”





Another night without sleep. This is what it will be like if he goes on the mission and I stay here. I would do nothing but think about him and worry. I’m more convinced than ever: I have to go.

I’m sitting at the dining room table, typing on my tablet, when the door flies open. I turn and stand and my heart melts when I see who’s standing in the door, snow falling in sheets behind him.

James.

He looks haggard. But he’s here.

I grab my cane and race across the living room. When he sees me practically running, he runs himself, and we embrace. I hug him tightly, and he hugs me back.

“They said—” he begins.

“Forget what they said,” I whisper in his ear. “I’m so glad you’re home. I’m glad you’re safe.”

When I finally release the hug, he studies me, a curious expression in his eyes.

“I was so worried about you,” I say.

He smiles. “I need to go away more often.”

Without thinking about it, I lean in. Suddenly, his lips are on mine and the kiss happens, so unexpectedly, and a nuclear bomb of emotions goes off inside of me. I actually feel my legs going weak. I’m not sure if it’s because my legs are weak, but it feels like I’m falling down a well.

When we break, he whispers in my ear, “Oscar?”

“He just left to pick up our rations.”

He kisses me again, more passionately, more urgently, and hugs me tighter, his hands moving down my back. I walk backward toward my bedroom, and he follows, and we close the door and do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.





Chapter 44





James





The world has changed. It’s not just the triple alliance among the Atlantic Union, the Caspians, and the Pac Alliance.

My world has changed.

Emma is that world. We’ve been orbiting around each other like two planets, both unsure about the gravity between us. That gravity, and the distance separating us, has now collapsed. We have collided, the mass of our attraction suddenly too great to keep us apart. I don’t know what comes next for us, but I’ve never been this excited in my whole life.

In the aftermath of the collision, we lie in bed, her head on my shoulder.

“How was the trip?” she asks softly.

“Piece of cake.”

“Liar.”

“All’s well that ends well.”

“They’re going to help us?”

“Looks that way.”

“How soon can we launch?”

“I’m not sure. When we were planning before, we didn’t know what kind of resources we had at our disposal. Whether the mission would be the Atlantic Union alone or us with the help of one or two allies. And we didn’t know the state of their space assets.”

“Have they told you?”

“Not yet, but Fowler and I have met with each nation’s space program and military. We’ve created a working group among the three nations. We’ll probably know what we have to work with by the end of next week. My guess is, we can be ready to launch in a few months. Three or four at the most. We need to be. I’m not sure how much more time we have.”

She pushes up from the bed and looks at me, chewing her lip the way she does when she’s nervous about something.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she mutters.

I doubt it’s nothing. There’s something she wants to say to me, but whatever it is, she decides now isn’t the moment to do it.





When Emma and I get up, we don’t talk about what happens next. Or what we are. It’s as if we’re both on autopilot. We move the pertinent items from my bedroom to her bedroom. There’s no decision to be made there—my room is a pigsty, hers looks like something out of a furniture catalog.

In fact, apart from my bedroom and my office, the rest of the house is spotless—cleaner than the day we moved in. I feel like I’m walking around some sort of CDC biocontainment room. She’s been tidying up. A lot.

“What do you want to do with the other bedroom?” she asks.

“I’m not sure.”

She grins. “I’ve got an idea.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Drone workshop.”

“Just like the Pax?”

“But with more gravity.”

“Perfect.”





We have dinner for everyone that night: Fowler and his family, Madison and her family, Abby and the kids. It’s crowded, and it’s kind of perfect that way.

Emma and I sit next to each other, and when dinner is over I put my arm around her and she leans closer to me, something we’ve never done before, at least in front of everyone.

Madison fixes Emma with a curious gaze that I can’t read. Something between the sisters. I’m a good scientist and a capable investigator, but I’ll never crack that code.

Jack and Sarah and Adeline and Owen play together; the four of them have become fast friends. Fowler’s children are older, and they mostly study their tablets while the younger kids run around in circles and play with the robotic dog, which they’ve named Marco (I believe because he responds Polo to the name, which they feel is hilarious).