What Lasts in Us

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Dog lies next to me, fast asleep; he's curled up against my body, drawing body heat. I hold him close, his little body snuggled against my belly, the blanket covering us both. He twitches in his sleep; he also gives a muffled yip, a noise I'm sure only a cat in a dream can bring forth.

Nate spoons me from behind – too close, not close enough – his arm hanging loose over my waist, his fingers dancing along Dog's spine as he sleeps. I haven't been this content in a long time.

The familiar warning signals are subdued, no longer as deafening as they used to be. Or as they should be?

"Talk me through tomorrow."

His breath tickles the nape of my neck. His free hand, which sits above my head, plays with my hair. A shiver runs down my spine.

"We're going to hijack a patrol car," I reply.

His fingers are playful and gentle and teasing; my scalp tingles, a feeling that ignites all the way down to my bones. "You sound one hundred percent sure we're going to find one."

"Otherwise we'll wait it out until one comes along."

His whole front is pressed to my back, and every time he speaks I swear his lips are getting closer and closer to my neck. His words whisper against my skin, full of promises and secrets that neither of us will keep.

Even with Nate's company, I still sometimes feel like I'm the last person alive. I feel so alone, even in moments like this. It's the emotional attachment that worries me, because I can't depend on others. I can to an extent, but that's like putting your own happiness in another person's hands. You're the only one who can make yourself happy. Never rely on someone else to make you happy, or to bring you happiness. You need to find that within yourself, just like you must find the dependence in yourself.

Rely on yourself first and foremost, then everything else will fall into place. And hopefully it won't be complicated.

Nate somehow pulls me closer against him. I don't know where he ends and I begin; every time he shifts, I shift, too. "I like this," he says suddenly. I'm actually surprised by his admission, because he's almost as bad as me when it comes to opening himself up.

I like it too, but I don't admit it. Not out loud, anyway. "We'll be one step closer to getting Emmi back," I say quietly.

Nate releases a long breath. "I know," he says. I feel him, all of him, like we're both stripped bare. And it's intoxicating.

"You should be jumping out of your skin."

The hand near my waist moves to my hip and gives me a squeeze, calloused fingers skimming across my bare skin. "Not quite."

I pry his fingers from my hip and play with them, noting the many scars that line his knuckles, his wrists, his palm. Some are faded, almost white, while others look like they've just finished healing. "I can't wait 'til we get Emmi back."

"I know," he says quietly. "It's long overdue."

Greatly.

"Just think: next week she'll be back with us, and then we can get on our way to Raleigh."

"And you're coming with us to Raleigh." He sounds surprised, because the last time we touched on the subject, I was so against it – I still am – and we had a disagreement over it. Now, we just need to get Emmi back. Nothing else matters beyond that. Her safety and well-being is what matters.

"I'll kill him if I see him," Nate says suddenly, and I know exactly who he's talking about. His voice is flat, matter-of-fact. "If he's touched one hair on her head, I'm going to tear him apart."

I hold his hand against my chest. "I won't stop you," I say. "That's your decision, not mine."

"He deserves everything he gets."

"Just don't get killed in the process."

"Like that would happen."

At the time, sure, it seemed unlikely. But in retrospect, hindsight, whatever you want to call it, it makes everything you say or do seem harmless or stupid. Like, why would you have thought you could do that, let alone get away with it?

If only we had foresight. But of course, that would ruin the future, and it wouldn't be interesting.