Chapter 2

He died in the first year of the apocalypse, saving Evan, and he handed me over before he went.

"Take care of Claire for me."

That sentence was a shackle, and Evan wore it for three years.

I'd read it as a love letter.

I took a deep breath.

Time to stop being a fool in love.

I didn't tell anyone my ability had leveled up.

The day after I worked it out, Evan took a team out to hunt mutant beasts.

He had on that black combat suit. He always wore dark colors, black, charcoal, or deep green.

I used to leave something light on his nightstand every morning, a pale gray T-shirt, an off-white jacket, once even a light blue button-down I'd dug out of the ruins.

He never wore any of them.

"Why do you always wear black? You look like you're headed to a funeral." That was what I used to say.

He never answered. He pulled on the same dark suit and walked out.

He didn't know why I pushed the light colors so hard.

It wasn't about looking good.

It was because I'd spot any blood instantly.

Dark colors were dangerous. Blood soaked in and vanished, and nobody could tell how deep the wound went or how much he'd lost while he stood there in black.

Every time he came back from a mission, I checked him head to toe before I could breathe.

That day was no different. He came in at dusk with a fresh cut on his left arm, the blood already dried to a muddy black red.

Against the dark suit, nobody would have caught it without standing as close as I was.

The old me would have run at him, cursing him for not caring whether he lived, going over him more carefully than any medic in the Haven.

Then I would have gone up on my toes and kissed his chin. "I told you to wear the light one. You've earned this."

I ran at him that day, too.

Habits didn't break in a week.

I grabbed his arm and turned it over to see the cut. "You're hurt again. Are you seriously—."

His thoughts drifted in.

It was one word.

He thought, 'Useless.'

My hand went stiff on his arm.

Back when I couldn't hear him, I filled in the blank myself. He was touched that I worried about him, and he had no idea what to do with me.

I didn't have to fill in anything now.

What he actually thought was useless.

I let go of his arm.

"Good, as long as you're okay." I smiled and stepped back. "I'll get the first aid kit."

Evan looked at me.

I couldn't read the look, but I could hear the rest of him.

I turned for the kit, and three more words caught me at the door.

'So annoying,' Evan thought.

I tightened my grip on the doorknob.

I took a breath.

Fine. I was annoying.

I brought the kit anyway and handed it to his aide from a few feet off. "Take care of the Commander's arm."

The aide stared at me because I had never handed that job to anyone.

I used to dress the cut myself, then kiss the skin beside it and tell him a little air would take the sting out, until every medic in the room turned red.

I gave the aide a quick smile and walked out.

Ethan's last fragment reached me on the way.

He thought, 'Just go.'

I swallowed those two words.

Fine. I was going.

Whenever Evan headed out on a mission, I planted myself in the Haven's gateway.

I never let him walk straight out.

Every time I put on the same show, he wasn't getting past me without a kiss.

I'd go up on my toes, hook my arms around his neck, and kiss the corner of his mouth in front of everybody.

He went stiff as a board every time. He never kissed me back, and he never pushed me off.

The whole Haven got used to it. Even Chris Miller, the meanest man in the place and the captain of Team Two, would sigh at us. "Claire, finish up and let the Commander go. The mutant beasts don't wait."

Then I'd add one more thing. "Check in when you're back. If it runs over six hours, I'm coming after you."

Evan let me kiss him with a flat face and walked off without a word.

I used to think the twitch at his mouth was a laugh he was holding in.

Looking back, he was holding in something else.

Evan went out on a mission that day.

I sat in the supply area, counting cans, and didn't look up.

Chris walked past and gave me a strange look. "You're not seeing him off?"

"Nope." I smiled at him. "He's got work to do."

Chris muttered something and kept going.

I caught the thought behind it. 'Did those two fight?'

We hadn't fought.

I'd worked it out, that was all.

The mission ran six hours.

I used to get on the radio every hour. "Where are you? Are you hurt? How many did you run into? Big ones or small ones? Is anybody with you?

"Don't go charging in alone, do you hear me? Evan, answer me. Evan. If you don't answer, I'm coming out there. Try me."

The radio reached about six miles. Most of the time, it didn't connect at all, and when it did, Evan rarely answered. Once in a while, I got an "Mm."

I used to think that "Mm" was the biggest thing he had to give.

Now I figured he tossed it out to get me off the channel.

I didn't call that day.

Not once.