Morning light slipped through the gaps in the curtains.
I was awake before I opened my eyes.
I felt the weight first.
Maggie was curled up against me, her arm draped over my chest, her knee pressed into my thigh.
Her hair, spread over my shoulder and slightly rough where it dried against the pillow, carrying the light scent of soap and something distinctly hers—clean, earthy, familiar.
My hand still rested at her waist.
For a moment, I didn't move.
I listened: the slow rhythm of her breathing, the faint creak of the farmhouse settling, a rooster somewhere in the distance announcing morning like the world hadn't ended.
I shifted carefully.
The mattress dipped.
Maggie let out a small sound in her throat but didn't wake.
I looked at the ceiling for a moment, then at her.
I turned my head and looked down.
Her cheek was pressed to me, her lips parted slightly, a faint crease between her brows even in sleep.
My gaze went to my shoulder.
A red mark was there.
Teeth.
I pressed once with my thumb; I frowned, it was tender.
Memories followed in fragments: bathroom tiles cool under my bare feet; steam thick enough to blur the mirror; her hand pushing against my chest; bare skin against mine under hot water; the way she kissed me, frustrated with my patience.
I'd meant to take things slow, to build something steady in a world that ended far too quickly.
But she had decided we were done waiting, and I hadn't resisted.
I blinked once, then twice. I moved my hand from her waist, gently lifting it, and slid my leg under her thigh.
She stirred when the warmth left.
Her eyes opened halfway, and she murmured, "The shipyard isn't going to grow legs and leave."
I cleared my throat, my shoulders stiffening instinctively.
"I should be down there. Rick's probably double-checking everything, and Daryl… well, Daryl doesn't like to wait."
My voice softened. "Maggie, about last night. I didn't intend to—I wanted to do this right, to make sure we were certain."
Maggie pushed herself up on her elbow, her dark hair a messy tangle.
She looked at me—really looked at me—with that blunt Greene honesty.
"Zephyr, you spent weeks doing everything right. You saved us, you took us in, you've built a haven."
She reached up, her thumb tracing the line of my jaw, forcing me to look at her instead of the door.
"Last night wasn't about being proper," she whispered, a playful but sharp glint in her eyes.
"It was about being alive. I'm pretty sure I was the one who dragged you across that line, so quit acting like you offended my honor. You're not a knight, and I'm definitely no damsel."
I finally let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "I just don't want to lose this. Any of it."
"Then go finish your mission," she said, giving me a firm, grounding shove toward the edge of the bed.
"But if you spend the whole scouting mission overthinking this, I'm telling my dad you're losing your edge." She ended that part with a playful wink.
I let out a light chuckle, seemingly finding amusement in my earlier prudence.
Shaking my head, I sat up slowly. The cool air hit my back.
I reached for my pants on the chair and stepped into them without hurry. "I won't get distracted on this run."
Maggie snorted softly. "If you get distracted, that's on you."
I pulled my shirt over my head; the fabric caught at my shoulders before settling.
She stood too, gathering the sheet around herself loosely, and walked the two steps to me.
"You're not going out alone," she said. "You've got Rick and Daryl looking out for your back, and you've got something to come back to."
I adjusted my belt and checked the knife at my hip.
Her hand caught my wrist before I stepped away.
"Don't overthink this," she repeated. "You didn't break anything."
I looked down at her fingers around my wrist, then back at her. "I'll be back in three days. Barring any complications."
"Two," she replied automatically.
Chuckling, I leaned in and kissed her once—not slow, not rushed, just certain.
Stepping back, I grabbed my jacket from the chair.
"You take care, Zephyr," she said lightly.
I opened the door. "I will."
The cool morning air moved through the room as I stepped into the hallway.
I headed for the kitchen.
Jenny and Carol were already over the stove, getting breakfast ready.
"Morning," Jenny said.
"Good morning," I replied. I took a seat at the table.
Carol brought over a plate of scrambled eggs and sausages and a mug of coffee.
"You just missed Rick and Daryl," she said, setting the food in front of me. "They just finished eating."
"Is that so?" I mumbled.
A couple minutes later, I was done eating. Standing up, I handed the dishes to Jenny, thanking her and Carol for the food, and left—completely oblivious to the strange stares the two were giving me.
"You think he didn't notice that the walls here are really thin?" Jenny asked Carol with a light blush on her cheeks.
"I don't think he did," Carol replied, placing her hand on her cheek.
By the time I reached the yard, the box truck was idling.
"Finally, you decided to show up," Daryl grunted from his position.
"Apologies. I was caught up in something."
"Yeah, something." Daryl gave a snort, eyeing me with teasing eyes.
Rick was also giving me a weird look. Suddenly, it clicked. My eyes widened slightly, my ears felt hot.
I cleared my throat, pretending nothing happened. I walked straight to the truck, opened the driver-side door, climbed up, and shut the door behind me.
"Let's go," I said.
Daryl and Rick exchanged a look before breaking into a chuckle, then climbed into the passenger seat.
Taking one last look at the farmhouse, I floored the gas, leaving a trail of dust behind.
(To be continued...)