𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝟕. 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃

ADDIE

DAY FOUR

Rockford, Illinois, in December, is much colder than anything I've ever felt before.

I don't remember it being almost unbearable at camp. But I've never been stranded on the road without winter clothes or heat, either. Not to mention, it's been snowing since we left Chicago. Fluffy snowflakes battered us so much at one point that we were forced to hole up inside an abandoned sporting goods store downtown, and we've been here ever since.

It's not so bad. At least there are thick jackets and boots to wear, and supplies that Joel said we would need for camping.

So, here I am. Bundled up in an oversized winter coat I found in the barren men's section, a beanie, and the cutest winter boots I could find in my size, huddling in a sleeping bag near a small fire that Joel started in the back room of the store.

The thoughts of all of my suitcases drifting away in the Chicago River plague my mind still, but I push the thoughts away before the tears prick my eyes. I know things like that aren't important now. It's too cold to think about them. I'm too hungry. Our situation is too dire to care about some measly clothes. At least, that's the mantra I repeat in my head.

"Here." Joel's voice makes me jump as he tosses a can into my lap. "Need to eat."

I look up at him as he walks around to the other side of the fire and plops down.

"What about you?"

"I'm fine," he mumbles.

Except—I know that can't be true. He hasn't eaten all day. With a tiny sigh, I push up from my spot in the sleeping bag and fish through our bag of supplies for a can opener. I pour the contents of the expired Spaghetti-O's into the fire pot before holding it over the flame, watching the orange liquid until it starts bubbling slightly. This was one of my favorite finds in this store. We didn't have to eat cold food, not that Joel minded—he ate anything at whatever temperature.

With the fire pot in one hand and a spoon in the other, I walk around and join him on the other side, sitting down and crossing my legs. He doesn't protest at first, but I feel him staring at the side of my head as I blow on a spoonful and shove it into my mouth.

I extend the pot over to him with a small smile.

"I said I'm fine," he sighs.

"Need to eat."

His glower at my reiteration of his words from earlier makes me want to laugh, but I just bite my lip and put my head down instead. The spoon scrapes at the pot and the corner of my lips twitch at the sound.

"The snow probably sets us back, right?" I ask, changing the subject. My eyes stay on the fire, afraid that if I look over at him, he'll see the glossy look in my eyes and make fun of me for it or something. I don't want to seem weak, but the thought of not getting to Jared in time scares me to death. More than anything that we encounter out here can scare me.

"A couple days."

"Maybe it'll let up."

"Doubt it." He hands the pot back over to me.

The wind howls outside as snow barrels down past the store's office window. It's nearly dusk, which means we can't keep the fire going too much longer. Joel says it's dangerous because someone could see the light from it. The door is blocked off, but still, I trust him when he says we should be safe rather than sorry. There were people shooting at us two days ago.

"How's your head?" he asks lowly.

The question catches me off guard because—well—I didn't expect him to care. Peeking up at him, my heart thrashes at the sight of him staring down at me expectantly. His dark eyes are enough to make me forget that I'm supposed to respond, making him clear his throat as I nervously set the pot on the ground and gently touch the bandage on my head.

"I actually haven't checked today," I say softly.

"Come here."

His voice is low and gravelly, and I wish it didn't sound like that because now my hands are shaky as I twist toward him. My heartbeat thumps in my ears as I stare at his chest, scared to look up at him and make a fool of myself.

I can barely feel his fingers as he whisks the beanie from my head, setting it in his lap as he carefully peels back the bandage. My focus is on steadying my breathing so it doesn't look like I'm about to have a panic attack, although my insides are melting from his touch.

"Looks fine," he says.

That makes me look up at him, a giggle fumbling through my lips. "Everything is always fine, huh?"

His pointed look is unwavering. "Yeah."

He tugs the rest of the bandage off, crumbling it up and tossing it as he breaks the eye contact. My shoulders droop just a tad, but I'm still frozen in place as he takes my beanie and pulls it back on over my hair. Some strands push down in front of my eyes, and I laugh as I swipe them out of the way and back into place.

His expression is practically stone-cold as he watches me.

"Do you ever smile?"

He frowns. "No."

Putting distance between us, he snatches up the pot and shovels some more food into his mouth without another word. It's then that I realize how dumb I must seem. Too smiley. Too sweet. Too light-hearted for the world we live in now. I probably seem so young to him, like some little girl who giggles at everything. The truth is, I'm just a twenty-four-year-old girl who can't accept reality for what it is. He's grown. He's seen stuff I haven't. He's older and...

Ugh.

"You can have the rest," I tell him, standing up and returning back to the comfort of my own sleeping bag.

I'm not sure if he's looking at me. I don't stop to peek as I zip my jacket all the way up, throw the hoodie on over my beanie, and snuggle down into the sleeping bag. The thought shouldn't even cross my mind. He's made it more than obvious how annoying my presence is.

A few tears escape because I'm embarrassed by my own feelings. Because I want to see Jared. Because I want to be back in camp and warm in my own bed.

But things are different now, and I need to get used to it.

Everything has changed.