Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(68)

“Milo.”

“Yeah?”

She cleared her throat, struggling to get the words out. “I know I’ve been…I messed up, Small Fry. I wasn’t here for you after…after Noah. You needed me, and I let you down. That wasn’t cool. I’m sorry.”

She felt his shoulders shrug. “I forgive you.”

“That’s it? Seems too easy.”

“What else is there?”

“Like, you aren’t going to hold it over me or make me do your chores for a year?”

“Tempting, but nope.”

Quinn gave a pained snort. “Well…thank you.”

“We can share,” Milo said.

“What do you mean?”

“You need a family, but you don’t have one. I’ll share mine with you. Then we can be brother and sister, for real.”

“You really want that?”

He snuggled into her neck. His mop of unruly curls tickled her cheeks. “More than Christmas. More than peanut butter.”

It was several moments before she trusted her voice enough to speak. Her broken heart pulsed with affection and sadness, love and sorrow. It was almost too much to bear.

Damn, but she loved this kid.

“Okay,” Quinn whispered. Then, louder. “Okay.”

“Pinkie promise?”

Milo held up his pinkie finger. Quinn hooked hers around his smaller one. “Pinkie promise.”

“We’re family now,” Milo said with such sweet confidence that Quinn nearly dissolved into tears again. “My family is your family. Mom and baby Charlotte. And Ghost. Can’t forget Ghost.”

Ten minutes ago, she thought she’d never smile again. Yet amid misery and heartache, she felt it. That spark of joy, a promise of something more.

That no matter how bleak things seemed, tomorrow would be better.

“Do you wanna listen to music? Mom borrowed the iPod, but I got it back.” Milo pulled it out of his pocket and showed it to her. “I even remembered to charge it.”

“Only if it’s not Elvis.”

He grinned. “You can’t fool me. I know it’s your favorite.”

They spent an hour lying next to each other, an earbud for each of them, listening to Aerosmith. U2. Pink Floyd. Journey. The Beatles. And of course, Elvis Presley’s “Love Me Tender” and “Heartbreak Hotel.”

The songs she’d grown up with, that Gramps had loved. He’d danced with her when she was a little girl, Gran looking on, pretending to disapprove but nodding her head to the tune.

The same songs Hannah had once sung to Milo. The music connected them, a gossamer thread leading them to each other.

By the time the sun had set and darkness crouched outside the windows, Quinn’s tears had dried to salty tracks on her cheeks, and Milo lay curled against her side, breathing contentedly, fast asleep.





48





Liam





Day One Hundred and Fourteen





Liam had blood on his hands.

He’d been forced to kill the soldiers manning the helo. The moment they’d fired a shot, they’d become the enemy. They had attacked innocent people. They had killed Molly. For that, they deserved their fiery death.

Fall Creek had eliminated the threat of the Black Hawk, but at great cost. The town was once again reeling, left to pick up the pieces.

It wasn’t over yet.

After another endless day working to solidify their fighting positions, consolidate resources, and take stock of the wreckage, Bishop had forced him to take a break.

Fear, uncertainty, and dread formed a hard knot inside him. A crushing weariness threatened to overwhelm him, but for the moment, the imminent danger had receded.

For a few precious minutes, he was a man, not a soldier.

A man with the woman he loved.

Liam sat on Hannah’s sofa with Charlotte. She smelled clean, of baking soda and lotion. He bobbed his knee and Charlotte giggled, the sound as pure and rich as ringing bells.

Rain drummed the roof. The wind scoured the corners of the house and rattled the tree branches.

Inside, the fire crackled in the living room fireplace. Candles placed around the room scented the air with vanilla and lavender.

Ghost sprawled before the fireplace, panting like he’d spent the day running a marathon, not dozing.

His apparent indolence was misleading. When his people were awake and alert, he rested. When they slept, he came alive, spending the nights patrolling his domain, protecting his herd.

Hannah’s singing drifted from the hallway as she finished up her usual bedtime routine with Milo. Quinn was here, too.

After finding them sleeping in Quinn’s bed, Liam had brought them to Hannah’s house. They awoke just long enough to inhale a supper of potato and carrot soup with the cooked rabbit that Quinn had caught earlier.

Hannah insisted Quinn stay with her. It wasn’t healthy—or safe—to be alone.

Charlotte cooed, grinning. Her chubby arms flailed as she reached for him, grasping for his face. Her crooked knit hat toppled onto the couch cushion, and her chocolate-brown fringe stood up all over her head with static.

It was adorable. She was adorable.

“Too warm for that hat now,” he said. “You’ve grown so much. Guess I’ll have to make you another one. Maybe pink this time? I’ve heard little girls like pink.”