𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝟏𝟏. 𝐒𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐄𝐒

ADDIE

DAY ELEVEN

It's all my fault.

Everything that has happened to us on this trip has been because of me. I'm bad luck. We keep getting pushed further and further back from reaching Montana and Jared. It makes my stomach turn to even think about not getting to him. The throbbing in my ankle serves as a reminder of that. Here we are—still stuck in this abandoned house, all because I can't walk properly.

"Addison."

I snap my head in the direction of Joel's voice, surprised to see him kneeling down next to my sleeping bag. My thoughts were all-consuming to the point where I hadn't even realized he'd been trying to get my attention the whole time.

"Yeah?" I rasp.

"I need to check your ankle."

"Oh."

Nervously, I throw back the top of the sleeping bag that's over my legs, gently lifting my injured foot as he reaches for it and sets it in his lap. It's been surprising how comforting he's been with me ever since yesterday. He checks my ankle every few hours, and he's even packed snow from outside to help with the swelling. It's a different side to him than I'm used to, one that I didn't think even existed. And it definitely doesn't help my butterflies or shaky palms he's been giving me lately.

"Still swollen," he mutters, lightly unwrapping the bandage and pressing his thumb to my ankle. "Does it hurt?"

I nod, wincing from the pressure.

"We need supplies." He doesn't look at me as he speaks, re-wrapping it steadily. "Can't put it off anymore."

I bite at my lip. "Okay. Maybe I could grab a stick outside? Help me walk."

Setting my foot back down, he shakes his head as he stands up.

"Your swellin' won't go down if you put your weight on it."

Ice pumps through my veins, making goosebumps travel up my neck and prick the tiny hairs. If he doesn't think I should, then I trust him, but that means...

"You have to leave me here?" I say, and my voice cracks.

Joel finally looks down at me, and the look in his eyes tells me all I need to know.

"I gotta go on a run," he says, softer this time. "We won't have enough to stay here."

"By yourself."

He nods.

"You're leaving me here?" I squeak. "Alone?"

He clenches his jaw. "I have to."

"No," I rush out, pushing myself up from the ground. Or, at least, trying to. "What if something happens and you're not here?"

"You'll be fine."

"Joel. Please." I finally manage to stand, blowing some strands of hair from my face.

He turns to grab his bag, taking a pistol out and placing it on the coffee table that's eaten away with wood rot. Before he can head toward the door, I hobble over to follow him, and my hand reaches out to grasp the sleeve of his jacket.

"I don't know how to use a gun," I whine, tugging until he is forced to look at me.

His dark eyes dart from my hand to my pleading gaze before he sighs deeply. "I won't be gone long, Addison."

"What if something happens to you?" My chest heaves like I'm out of breath. I think I am. "What if you don't come back?"

The thought of being left out here all alone forms a pit in my core. I have no idea how to get to Montana on my own, and I definitely wouldn't be able to find my way back home. I'd be a sitting duck for the living and the dead. A feast. Or worse.

He avoids my eyes, saying nothing.

"Joel," I plead.

Still nothing.

"Joel. Please."

"I'll be gone an hour at most," he huffs, obviously frustrated. He tugs his arm from my fingers, and I feel it deep in my chest.

He pulled away.

Why does that hurt as much as it does?

"I'm scared," I whisper, crossing my arms over my chest as I blink away the water forming in my eyes. "Please, don't leave."

With a quiet growl, he drops his bag to the ground with a loud thud. The noise makes me flinch, and I suddenly feel stupid for begging him to stay. I should've just gotten on my knees to really sell it. It couldn't have made it any worse than now.

"Fine." He sucks in a deep breath. "Come on. Back in the sleepin' bag."

Before I can protest, he's wrapping his arm around my waist and hoisting me back over to my designated spot. The warmth of his body against mine, even just from the side, is enough to make my knees wobble. Which isn't helping my balance. Leaning into him, I let him guide me down into the sleeping bag before I peek up at him.

Joel breaks our brief eye contact as he goes to walk away, but once again, I'm grabbing him by his jacket.

"Sit."

I'm shocked the word leaves my lips, and he is, too—judging by the way he frowns in confusion down at me. My eyebrows scrunch uneasily, but it diminishes just as quickly as he carefully sits down next to my sleeping bag.

"Thank you," I say gently, looking down at my intertwined fingers in my lap.

"You should rest."

Looking over at him, I deflate when I see he's making a point to look away from me. Sinking down into my bed, I make one last move to extend...friendship? I'd take anything civil at this point. So, I press my cheek against his thigh, cuddling into him as I shut my eyes.

My heart pumps in my chest, and I pray that he doesn't pull away again. I don't want him to. His presence is the most comforting thing to me now, and I know that this is only temporary, but I can't help it.

It's quiet for a moment, but neither of us move.

"I don't hate you, either."

I'm just one big bundle of word vomit today.

"I know," he says.

"Of course you do."

Peeking through my eyelashes up at him, my body freezes as I see the corner of his lips lift just slightly into a smile. A real smile.