MorningAfter
654 Words
Carter's POV
The second morning was worse than the first.
Because this time, I woke up with Maya's leg thrown over mine, her face buried in my neck, and her hand resting dangerously low on my stomach.
And this time, I was fully awake to appreciate just how much trouble I was in.
She was beautiful. Even in sleep, even wearing overlarge flannel that should've been unflattering, even with her hair a mess and no makeup—beautiful in a way that made my chest ache.
My sister, technically.
The woman I was falling for, realistically.
The potential apocalypse, according to Marcus's files.
"Stop thinking so loud," Maya mumbled. "S'too early."
"It's almost noon."
"Exactly. Too early."
She stretched like a cat, and I became acutely aware of every point where our bodies touched. Her leg still over mine. Her arm across my chest. The way she fit against me like we were designed for this.
Maybe we were. Maybe that was the whole horrible point.
"We should get moving," I said, my voice rougher than intended. "Seattle's a long drive."
"Mm. Five more minutes."
"Maya."
"Carter." She opened one eye, looking at me. "Five minutes of pretending the world isn't trying to kill us. Is that too much to ask?"
It wasn't. So I gave her five minutes. Hell, I'd give her anything she asked for, and that was the problem.
Finally, reluctantly, we got up. Packed. Checked weapons. Fell into the rhythm of two operatives preparing for the next fight.
But something had shifted between us. I saw it in the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn't watching. Felt it in the way her hand would brush mine unnecessarily. The way we orbited each other in the small space like satellites caught in each other's gravity.
We left the cabin around 2 PM, hiking back down to where we'd stashed a second vehicle (always have a backup). The SUV started on the first try—small miracles.
"Seattle's twenty-two hours," Maya said, navigating. "We should drive straight through. Trade off every four hours."
"Agreed. The longer we stay in one place, the more likely they find us."
We hit the highway, leaving the mountains behind. For a while, we drove in comfortable silence. Then Maya turned on the radio, and of course, the news was talking about us.
"—increased reward to twenty million dollars. Stone and Cross are considered extremely dangerous. If you see them, do not approach. Contact authorities immediately—"
Maya turned it off. "Twenty million. We're moving up in the world."
"Always wanted to know my worth."
"You're priceless, soldier. Don't let the government tell you otherwise."
I glanced at her. She was smiling, but there was something vulnerable in her expression. Like she meant it more than the joke implied.
"Maya—"
"Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't say whatever you're about to say. Because if it's 'we can't do this' or 'this is dangerous' or any variation thereof, I already know. I'm choosing to ignore reality for a few more hours. Let me have that."
So I did.
We drove. Talked about nothing important. Debated music (she liked indie rock, I liked classic rock, we both agreed country music was a crime against humanity). Stopped for gas using cash and fake IDs. Ate drive-through burgers that tasted like cardboard but we were too hungry to care.
Normal things. Like we were normal people on a normal road trip.
It was the best day I'd had in years.
Around midnight, I took over driving while Maya slept in the passenger seat. She looked peaceful. Younger. The hard edges she carried softened in sleep.
I caught myself reaching over to brush hair from her face. Stopped. That way lay madness.
But my hand found hers anyway. Laced our fingers together.
She squeezed back
without waking up.
We were so screwed.
- Writer
