Jenny had never felt so wanted, so thoroughly claimed.
Like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to something human.
Not even her late husband has driven her like this crazy.
Without a doubt, Jenny would now do anything for Ross. Anything.
During the day, while Ross was out on runs—scavenging fuel, reinforcing the outer barricades, or putting down stragglers that got too close—she kept herself busy in the women's dorm.
The place had become her second home again, just without the bunk she used to sleep in.
She helped wherever she could: sorting ammo crates, patching gear, boiling water for the communal showers, even helping her friends do the inventory the dwindling medical supplies.
The teasing never stopped.
She'd walk in mid-morning, still flushed and walking with that telltale hitch, and the room would erupt.
"Morning, Screamer," Martinez called from her bunk, grinning like a shark. "How's the dick appointment schedule looking today? Fully booked?"
