Chapter Twenty-Two
Answers at Noon Morning crept in slowly, gray light filtering through the living room windows and settling over the shapes of blankets, bags, and half-unpacked boxes. Emily woke first again, curled against Chandler's chest on the couch, the low hum of the power plant steady beneath everything. For a moment, she stayed still—counting breaths, grounding herself in the warmth of his arm and the simple fact that they were safe. No rushing. Not yet. When Chandler stirred, it was with a quiet groan and a blink toward the window. "Tell me it's not already noon." She smiled softly. "Not yet. But it's getting close." That did it. He sat up carefully, stretching, then glanced toward the radio on the table as it might speak on its own. "Guess we should be ready." They moved through the morning
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