Fear (A Gone Novel)

Eleven

26 HOURS, 45 MINUTES

SAM WOKE TO a feeling of utter, profound, incredible relief.

He closed his eyes as soon as he opened them, afraid that being awake would just invite something terrible to appear.

Astrid was back. And she was asleep with her head on his arm. His arm was asleep, completely numb, but as long as that blond head was right there his arm could stay numb.

She smelled like pine trees and campfire smoke. He opened his eyes, cautious, almost flinching, because the FAYZ didn't make a habit of allowing him pure, undiluted happiness. The FAYZ made a habit of stomping on anything that looked even a little bit like happiness. And this level of happiness was surely tempting retaliation. From this high up the fall could be a long, long one.

Just yesterday he'd been bored and longing for conflict. The memory shocked him. Had that really been him grinning in the dark at the prospect of war with Caine?

Surely not. He wasn't that guy. Was he?

If he was that guy, how could he suddenly do a 180 and now feel so different? Because of Astrid? Because of the fact of her in his bed?

Without moving he could see the top of her head—her hair looked as if someone had cut it with a weed whacker—part of her right cheek, her eyelashes, the end of her nose, and farther down a long, shapely, much-scarred and bruised leg entwined with his own leg.

One of her hands was on his chest, just over his heart, which was starting to beat faster, so fast and so insistently he was afraid the vibration might wake her. Her breath tickled.

Sam's mind was happy to let this go on forever. His body had a different idea. He swallowed hard.

Her eyelash flickered. Her breathing changed. She said, "How long can we go before we have to talk?"

"A while longer," he said.

The while longer eventually came to an end. Astrid finally pulled away and sat up. Their eyes met.

Sam didn't know what he expected to see in her eyes. Maybe guilt. Remorse. Loathing. He saw none of those things.

"I forget," Astrid said, "why was I so against doing that?"

Sam smiled. "I'm not about to remind you."

She looked at him with a frankness that embarrassed him. Like she was taking inventory. Like she was storing images away in memory.

"Are you back?" Sam asked.

Astrid's gaze flicked away, evasive. Then she seemed to think better of it, and she met his gaze squarely. "I have an idea. How about if I just tell you the truth?"

"That would be good."

"Don't be so sure," she said. "But I'm out of practice lying. I guess living alone kind of made me intolerant of BS. Especially my own."

Sam sat up. "Okay. Let's talk. First, let's jump in the lake for a minute."

They made their way on deck and plunged off into the chilly water.

"People will see us," Astrid said, smoothing her hair back and revealing the tan line on her forehead. "Are you ready for that?"

"Astrid, by now not only everyone at the lake, but everyone in Perdido Beach and probably whoever is out on the island knows all about it. Taylor's probably been here and gone, most likely Bug, too."

She laughed. "You're suggesting gossip actually moves at speeds that are impossible."

"Gossip this juicy? The speed of light is nothing compared to the speed this will move at."