Break Free The Night (Book 1) (18 page)

Chapter Eight

Several hours later, which included twelve trips back and forth from the firema
n’
s pole to the storage room, three burst cans of soda, one very large can of beans landing on Kayle
e’
s foot courtesy of Emma, and an impromptu feast, she stumbled her way back to the nearly empty and very shadowy living room.

              From the doorway she could see a dark figure sunk unto the couch. A jar candle flickered lightly on the table next to him, the glass sides that encased it blackened. Kaylee recognized the scent: apples. She smiled softly. Andrew knew she loved the smell of apples. It reminded her of home and the crumble her mother used to bake, of life before the infection. He chose this candle for her.

             
“
Hey
,”
she murmured. He turned. Even backlit by the faint dimmer of the candle, Kaylee knew he was smiling.

             
“
You came
,”
he said, sounding too relieved for Kayle
e’
s liking.

             
“
Of course I did
,”
she said, walking past the end of the couch and sitting just out of arms distance from him. The flickering light sent odd shadows flying across the walls. They were the kinds of shadows that normally frightened Kaylee; they recalled fleeting glimpses of running infected, hands and feet and arms all pounding closer, chasing. But tonight Andrew was here. And if Andrew was here, she was safe.

             
“
Enjoy the Coke
?”
he asked, smiling softly in her direction.

             
“
Mhmm
,”
she hummed in affirmation, the artificial buzz of caffeine still swimming through her veins
.“
Have
n’
t had one in a while
.
”

             
“
Pineapples too
.
”

             
“
I know
!”
Kaylee agreed, smiling. She loved pineapples, always had
.“
How did you not check the loading docks before, anyway
?”
she teased, knocking his shoulder. He scowled.

             
“
Jack
,”
he muttered the name as though it were a curse word
.“
The doors to the loading areas were locked. I
t’
s not our fault we ca
n’
t pick them open in the pitch dark. H
e’
s some kind of thief or something
.
”

             
“
Sure
.”
Kaylee rolled her eyes. He shrugged and kept his eyes on his hands. The quiet of the room enveloped them. The flickering candle, the dark corners, the warm feel of worn sofa underneath her nervous fingers, it was all so familiar and yet still felt new. It was
n’
t so very long ago that Andrew and she would pass the time watching T.V. or playing video games. They shared music and chatted online, even though they were only a couple apartments away from each other and could have easily met in the halls. Now, just a year past, and some days it felt like no time at all, here they were: Andrew and Kaylee, the future of mankind. In that living room, they may as well have been the last man and the last woman on earth. And quite suddenly, as Kaylee shifted closer to him, she felt the urge to apologize. She was
n’
t in love with him, not nearly that. And Jack still haunted her, particularly in those twilight hours of the mind, when sleep edged around her thoughts and mixed confusingly with dreams; but Jack was leaving. And Kaylee felt she owed Andrew this, at least this, for how wonderful he was to her, how kind and understanding.

“
Drew,
I
—”

              He cut her off before she could continue her apology, smiling ruefully
.“
I got you something. Not as good as what you were hoping for maybe, but I thought i
t’
d be something for us to do
.”
From the folds of his jacket he pulled out a rectangular object.

             
“
A book
?
”

             
“
Here
,”
he murmured, thrusting it into her hands. He turned his face away from her as she studied the cover. The worn brown surface was faded in places, ink that was once shiny standing out only dimly, but the title was clear.

             
“
The Princess Bride
?”
Kaylee questioned, her voice strangled around the lump in her throat. He knew her so well, treated her with such respect and caring. Why could
n’
t she love him?

             
“
I thought we could read it together
,”
he continued, his voice colored only slightly with embarrassment
.“
I mean, I thought I could read it to you
.
”

             
“
You wan
t
—”

             
“
I know, I know. Shut up
,”
he muttered defensively, offering a small, self-conscious smile as he pulled the book from her fingers. He opened to the first page, cleared his throat, and read.

              Under Andre
w’
s gentle attention, the story unfurled, the words rolling in a tender cadence to fill the quiet space around them. The corners of the room stayed dark and the candle emanated a small bubble of light that enclosed Kaylee and Andrew. She sunk back into the armrest of the couch, turning to face her friend as he read, her feet pulled up under her. The aches and pains of the long night of hauling food into storage were ebbing, all except the dull ache in her foot.

              Stupid Emma.

              Kaylee would have sworn Emma could have caught that can before it fell. She frowned as her fingers found her foot. Rubbing seemed to help.

             
“
Your foot bothering you
?”
Andrew paused to ask, his voice soft and concerned.

             
“
A bit
,”
Kaylee conceded with a nod
.“
I
t’
s not bad, just sore
.
”

             
“C’
mere
,”
Andrew said, one hand pulling Kayle
e’
s feet from under her and gathering them up in his lap. His fingers found her hurt foot and squeezed softly, propping the open book on her extended legs
.“
Just lay back and close your eyes. I needed a book rest anyway
.
”

              Kaylee smiled in the darkness, doing as Andrew told her and laying back, eyes closed. His fingers traced the contours of her foot, ghosting over her skin in intricate patterns. She sighed as he picked up reading where he had left off.

              She could picture them all in her head, actors and actresses whose names she could no longer remember, names she would now probably never know for the rest of her life. She remembered the guy who played Columbo was in the movie, her father and mother used to watch that show after she and her sister went to sleep, but she could
n’
t remember any other role he had played. Regardless, his character was
n’
t really in the book. But as Andrew spoke, she could envision Wesley lifting a jug from overhead, see Buttercup riding across green meadows, the wind racing through her hair. Kaylee could
n’
t remember the last time she felt the wind rushing through her hair. Sure, the roof got windy sometimes, some nights even with enough force that Kaylee tied her hair back so it would
n’
t blow into her eyes. But not like Buttercu
p’
s was blowing, not whipping back from her face, flying straight from behind her as she raced through a meadow. Kaylee brought her hands to her hair, running her fingers through the strands. She missed that.

              Andre
w’
s fingers kept up a nice rhythm, pressing and easing with just the right amount of pressure, stuttering only briefly when a darker shadow flickered on the wall. Kaylee felt her eyes drift open lazily.

              “
’
S just me
,”
Emma muttered, hovering in the doorway. Andrew paused and nodded to the empty seat beside him. Emma teetered on the threshold, her lip bit between her teeth. Kaylee was about to suggest moving to their bedroom, very much aware of just how intensely Emma hated the living room, how she avoided it whenever she could. But Emma surprised her, taking a slow step forward. Kaylee watched her but Emma refused to meet her gaze, her eyes were on the sofa, on Andrew and the book. So, Kaylee let her head fall back again, allowing Emma this privacy. And Andre
w’
s fingers pressed again, drift slowly over her pulse point, his thumb pressing firmly into her heel.

              The worn couch dipped as Emma sat and Andrew continued reading as if there had been no pause. There was no need to catch Emma up; she knew the movie just as well as Kaylee and the book was
n’
t so very different.

              The world Andrew was slowly re-creating with his low, dulcet tone felt real, permeated Kayle
e’
s consciousness, and so it startled her when Emma laughed.

"Ha!" Emma burst through the calm silence of the room, her laugh bouncing eagerly off the nearby walls to echo back at Kaylee and Andrew. "I like this author, he's good. This book is better than the movie."

"You always think that," Kaylee said, rousing from her story-induced stupor to roll her eyes.

"That's because it's always the case."

"Not true," Kaylee argued, shifting up on the couch and rising to her elbows. "What about something like
The Cat in the Hat
?"

"Kid's books don't count, Kaylee! You try and use that every time!"

"So
The Wizard of Oz
is a book for adults? I'm sure that one counts, right?"

"
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
had social commentary, so yeah, it does count.
Clifford the Big Red Dog
isn't making any political statements!"

"I never said Clifford!" Kaylee fumed. Emma snorted. "Fine, what about
The Birds
?"

"Short story!"

“
Bridges of Madison County
!
”

“
Girls
?”
Andrew shook his head and pat Kayle
e’
s foot, pining her with a look she knew well. He looked at her like that every time Emma had wanted to play with them when they were little and Kaylee had wanted to kick her out of the room. It was indulgent and just a tad impatient and a little expectant; it was a look that said: let your little sister win this one. She rolled her eyes at him.

“
Fine, Dad
,”
she teased, scowling to hide her smile. Andrew laughed. Emma huffed.

“
Yo
u’
re a sore loser
,”
Kaylee hissed at her sister. Emma stuck her tongue and Andrew ignored them both, continuing where he left off.

“
‘
Yes
,’
Buttercup replied. There was a very long pause
.‘
But I must never love again
.
’
”
Andrew paused to flip the page
.
“
‘
Chapter two. The Groom
.
’”