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another hot one.”<br />
“Triple digits. Again. Probably.” She reached over to lace her fingers in mine.<br />
I lifted her fingers to my lips. I wanted so badly to just pull her into my lap and touch every part of<br />
her. It was a silly, but very real desire. Something I’d never felt with Aubrey.<br />
“Were you in a relationship Before” Before was the general term we used for any time before<br />
the first day of the outbreak.<br />
Scarlet shook her head. “No. I was enjoying being single.”<br />
“Oh.”<br />
She laughed and squeezed my hand. “Maybe I just hadn’t met the right person, yet.”<br />
“Maybe not,” I said, grinning like an idiot. Damn, I had it bad.<br />
“Probably because the right person was married.”<br />
I frowned for just a second, but clea<strong>red</strong> my expression before she noticed. Technically, I wasn’t<br />
single, and I worried that would make Scarlet think less of me.<br />
“Does that bother you”<br />
Scarlet thought for a moment, and then shook her head. “The world is different, now. She left you a<br />
note saying that your marriage was over. I’d say in these times, that’s as good as a divorce. I worry<br />
about Zoe, though, don’t you”<br />
I loved her for that. “She doesn’t know anything, yet.”<br />
“Oh, I think she knows more than you give her c<strong>red</strong>it for.”<br />
“You think”<br />
“I know. My girls knew everything I didn’t want them to. I think it’s a female thing.”<br />
I smiled. “Good point.” Scarlet looked up into my eyes, and I blinked, suddenly feeling how close<br />
we were. I leaned in just a fraction of an inch, my lips burning to touch hers.<br />
Scarlet leaned her head against my shoulder. “I need my girls here.”<br />
I breathed out, her rejection deflating me. “I know.”<br />
“No. I mean . . . I need them here. Safe. It doesn’t feel right to be happy otherwise.”<br />
I knew then what she meant, and for the first time, I realized that I had been fooling myself. There<br />
was no one that wasn’t touched by the infection.<br />
Miranda<br />
BRYCE SAT ON THE FENCE , watching Butch nose around in the dirt. We didn’t have a lot to talk about<br />
anymore. I sha<strong>red</strong> all of my thoughts and feelings with Joey, and Bryce had quit trying to get me to<br />
repeat them. It felt like a waste, anyway; <strong>red</strong>undant. My fourteen-year-old self wanted to hug him and<br />
assure him that I would always love him. My eighteen-year-old self wanted to apologize that he was<br />
stuck with someone who was so selfish, she couldn’t see past her own impulsive wishes. I was too<br />
much of a coward to do either, so I just kept pretending—poorly—to Bryce that everything was fine,
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