39
Jessie
We spent three days eating, sleeping, and f*****g. Brock’s knee felt well enough by day three he wanted to make the trek back to Shiv’s to see if anyone had found the rubble we’d left behind. I talked him into staying put. The less tracks, the better.
He took me to my Beaver’s wreckage instead, holding me tight as I cried over her mangled metal.
On day four, he was able to use his solar charger to power up his sat phone and found a handful of texts from his friend Rian. Rather than call and get asked a hundred questions about his silence, he texted back that we both were fine—and that I’d agreed to stay another week.
On day five, I lay sated and sweaty, draped over Brock’s chest.
“Will you tell me?” he asked, his lips on my forehead, his fingertips trailing down my spine an
