Chapter 11

Two months later,I take out my last two loaves of bread for the day.

I've made ten loaves in total today, and it's taken from first thing this morning to midafternoon. It's been a lot of work but hasn't been a bad Friday.

Baking is still my favorite chore.

Plus today is even better because Jimmy will finally come home.

He's been gone since Monday. It's early harvest for the greens and root vegetables at the Santiagos' farm. While it's not nearly as intense as August and September, which everyone says are the most exhausting, rigorous months of the year, it's still a lot of work because of the size of the fields. After the harvesting, new crops have to be planted, so the Santiagos need extra hands for the entire week.

Jimmy, as one of the most able-bodied men in the community, always gets called in to work first.

I don't resent that fact in any way. After all, we get to reap the benefits of the produce from our neighbors, so it's only fair we help with the work. I sent him with ten extra loaves of bread to help Maria feed all the laborers during the week, and now I'm going to bring ten more so everyone will have at least one to take back home for the coming week. It's the least I can do.

My primary sacrifice, as far as I'm concerned, is being without Jimmy for the week.

He's gotten better about leaving me on my own. He can leave for a day now without much anxiety, and a couple of weeks ago, he stayed overnight at his folks' to assist them build a new outbuilding. It helps that I've been practicing with my gun, and I'm a lot more capable of defending myself than I used to be.

But five days is a long time, and he kept talking in circles about what he'd do—landing on the ridiculous suggestion of trying to come home every night—until I finally suggested that maybe Amelia Hurley could stay with me for the week.

She still lives at home, and while she obviously helps out, their household doesn't rely on her labor. She's stronger and more competent than me, and she's become my best friend.

Jimmy was deeply relieved when this plan worked out, and honestly so was I.

I could do it. I'm sure I can. But I wasn't looking forward to a week entirely on my own.

The week has been kind of slow, but it hasn't been bad. Amelia and I have been able to do both my chores and Jimmy's while still having plenty of time to hang out and chat. I never feel as safe away from Jimmy, but I haven't been particularly nervous with Amelia here, even at night.

But I miss Jimmy. I want him to come home. The house hasn't been the same without him.

"God, that smells so good," Amelia says, coming back into the house from the yard, where she was checking on the animals. "Are you sure we can't crack into one of those and chow down? I could probably eat a whole loaf right now."

I laugh, pleased with the offhand compliment. My bread is getting better and better until it's become a source of real pride. "If we did that, we'd have to make more, and I think I've done enough breadmaking for the week."

"That's for sure. Making one batch is enough for me. I don't know how you've managed so many." Amelia is grinning as she collapses back onto the couch. She's tall and long-legged with dark skin, hair, and eyes. "I guess I'm ready to go home."

I peer at her from the kitchen. "You're not sure?"

"I don't know. This has been kind of nice—being away from my parents. I mean, I'm twenty-four. In the old world I would have graduated college and started a career of my own by now. But nope, not now. Instead, I'm stuck living at home, milking a hundred thousand cows a day."

A giggle escapes me, and I'm relieved to see that she laughs too. "I guess our choices are pretty limited nowadays. Both men and women."

"Yep. We've got to do what it takes to survive, which means do the work that survival requires."

"Life here is a lot better than I had before. I loved Grandpa, but I didn't have anything else. At least here I've got things to do that feel worthwhile even if they're hard. And I've had the chance to have friends and be a part of a community. I didn't have that before. Life is pretty good here, at least compared to the way a lot of other people live after Impact."

"I know. I promise I'm not really complaining." She sighs and closes her eyes. "Maybe it would feel different if I had a home of my own."

"Couldn't you fix yourself up a little house?"

"Maybe?" She makes a face. "But I'm not sure it would be all that safe living by myself, and keeping a house is a lot of work for one person."

"That's what Jimmy always says. He could barely make it on his own. His folks wanted him to move back home after Mary died, but he didn't want to give up this place."

"I get that. It's his home."

I give the other woman a quick, questioning look. "Has there never been a man you were interested in?"

"Sure. Back before Impact I had crushes on guys in my classes, and a few years after Impact I did have a boyfriend. But we were still so young we couldn't really set up house together. And he ended up dying anyway."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You never mentioned him before. What happened?"

"He got sick from some virus that was going around and never got better." She sounds resigned. Not close to tears. "It was the same one that killed Laura's parents. If he'd lived, I probably would have eventually moved in with him and set up a home. But since him, there really hasn't been anyone. There just aren't a lot of unattached men around."

"There are single guys who help out on the farms, aren't there?"

"Yeah. A bunch of them have shown interest but…" She shrugs. "Am I supposed to hook up with anyone just to have a man?"

I think about that for a long time. It makes me feel strange and squirmy. Because the truth is that's exactly what I did. Jimmy was basically anyone to me, and I hooked up with him merely because he offered.

"It was different with you," Amelia says, eyeing me closely and obviously seeing some of my reflections on my face. "If I didn't have a decent home, I would have done the same thing as you. Plus Jimmy isn't any sort of participation prize. He's been the hot commodity around here since Mary died."

"You weren't interested in him?"

"No. No way." She gives her head a hard shake. "He's a great guy, of course, but I grew up knowing him, and I was like twelve when he got married. He's just never been on the eligible list for me."

"And there really hasn't been anyone who caught your interest since your boyfriend died?"

Amelia's mouth tightens in a particular way.

I come over and sit on the leather chair, leaning toward her. "There is someone! Why didn't you tell me? Who is it?"

"Just a passing interest. There was never any hope things could work out."

"Who cares about that? Who is it?"

She sits up on the couch. "A couple of years ago, a group of folk traveled through this area. They lived over around Kentucky or something, and they made a trip to check out what was out west of them."

"Oh wow. How far did they get?"

"They couldn't get past The Wild. They got stuck at the border like everyone else. We told them the only way to get farther west was to go north until they reach the end of The Wild, but of course no one here could tell them how far north that is. There were only four of them. They did have a vehicle, but they decided it was too much of a risk to push any farther. They were just exploring, so they didn't have any pressing need to risk their lives or run out of gas and get stuck. Anyway, they stayed here for a couple of weeks. They don't have cows in their communities, so they wanted to negotiate a trade with my parents. But they'll need a lot of cows to get them established there, and they didn't have enough to offer us in trade."

"Oh, interesting. So there was a guy you liked?"

"Yeah. His name was Mack." She smiles at an empty spot in the air. "Such a beautiful, warmhearted man. He had a woman with him the first time, so I figured he was already taken. But he came back last year to talk more about the cow situation, and he was with just one other guy this time. When I asked about his woman, he said they weren't together."

"Did you let him know you were interested?"

"Yes. He was super nice about it, but he turned me down." Amelia sighs and leans back against the couch. "Those are the breaks, I guess. We can't have everyone who catches our eye."

"No. I guess not." I'm kind of upset for her. She's beautiful and intelligent and competent and funny and generous. What man wouldn't want her? "Well, someone will come along eventually."

"Maybe. Maybe not. It wasn't a sure thing in the old world, and it's probably less of a chance of finding someone who suits you perfectly now. Most people just make do."

I sit very still.

"I wasn't talking about you," she adds quickly.

I laugh. "I know you weren't. Although I guess I did kind of make do. But I got really lucky to stumble on someone as good as Jimmy."

"You did get lucky. But he got lucky too. I knew it on that very first day he brought you home. You're so pretty and have this kind of soft, angelic look, and he was gazing at you like his dreams had come to life."

"No, he was not!"

"Yeah, he was. You just didn't know him before, so you didn't recognize it. He lucked out with you in a major way, and he's been so happy since you moved in. Happier than I can remember seeing him."

I shift in my chair, trying not to look too embarrassed. "Well, I'm glad it worked out for us. These practical arrangements probably have just as much a chance of flopping as succeeding."

"Yeah. A lot of the ones I've seen haven't even lasted a year. Life is too hard to rely only on attraction. There's got to be more to it to make it work."

"I guess so."

Jimmy and I haven't even been together seven months yet. We haven't come close to a year. There's no telling whether we'll make it or not. But things have gone well so far, so I'm hopeful.

"Anyway," Amelia says, pushing herself to her feet. "I guess I better get my stuff packed up if we want to make the walk to the Santiagos before dinner."

"Yeah. I'll pack up the bread."

I'm excited now. Amelia and I will walk to the Santiagos' farm. Jimmy will be there. We'll have dinner, and then Jimmy and I will head back home while Amelia returns to her parents'.

The week is almost over. Jimmy will be home soon.

I can't wait.

* * *

Amelia and I have a cheerful walk to the Santiagos' farm. We keep our guns at the ready because there's been more sightings of gang presence beyond the border, but we don't encounter anyone other than a few passing deer.

When we reach the Santiagos' farmhouse, I'm disappointed to discover that Jimmy is still working in the fields with the others.

It's ridiculous. I've gone since Monday morning without seeing him, but I was ready to see him now—right now—and instead, I have to wait.

I spot him immediately, even from a distance. I recognize the lines of his big body, the length of his hair and beard, the confident, efficient way he moves.

They're reaching the end of the final field, Maria Santiago tells me, so they shouldn't be more than another thirty minutes.

That's too long as far as I'm concerned.

I've done fine this week. Just fine. So it's silly that I've become so impatient right at the very end. I'm honestly not even sure what I'm impatient for. Sure, it will be nice to have sex again. Because Jimmy and I still have sex nearly every night, my body has become accustomed to the release, so I've been restless and jittery without it. But it's got to be more than that.

I miss being close to him—in bed and out of it. I guess I've been with him long enough now that his company feels natural. I love Amelia, but it's just not the same.

Obviously, it would be unforgivably rude to pout because I can't talk to Jimmy immediately, so I smile and make polite small talk with Maria and Amelia. She accepts my bread gratefully, explaining she's been so busy keeping the extra workers fed this week she hasn't gotten any baking or laundry done. Amelia and I help her get started on dinner, and soon we've got a stew in a big pot to simmer.

As we're finishing up, the workers start coming back in from the field. We greet them after they've given themselves a cursory wash in a rain barrel—all of them are dirty and exhausted—but they're clearly too tired for long conversation.

Jimmy is still working. I see him out there. Of course he'd be the very last one to stop working. Surely he knows I'm here waiting for him.

Finally, when everyone else has come in and the preparations for dinner are in full force, I go outside to see what he's keeping him.

He's still crouched in the dirt. Doing something. Instead of finishing up and coming to see me at last.

As I wait, I irrationally get more and more hurt and irritated. There's not any good reason for it, but the feeling tightens into a knot in my gut. My best guess is that his slowness is confirmation that he's not nearly as excited to see me as I am to see him.

He probably didn't miss me at all.

And if he did, it was only the sex.

Jerk. He could at least pretend to care about me. I'm well aware that he's not nearly as dependent on me as I am on him. That's the result of the vast differences between us in terms of resources and physical strength. He's made it clear that he likes having me around. I make his life better. In fact, ever since that emotional breakdown I had after being attacked two months ago, he seems to have made an extra effort to let me know that he appreciates everything I do for him.

He hasn't done anything wrong, and I shouldn't expect him to need me to always be around the way I need him. But still…

He could have at least pretended to miss me.

I wait ten minutes outside by myself on the back patio of the house. Everyone else is talking and laughing inside.

And Jimmy—damn him—is still out there working.

I've been stewing on it for long enough that I'm outright angry, although I keep trying to swallow down the feeling because I know it's mostly irrational.

I don't want to be a silly, melodramatic woman who makes a big deal about little things.

But this is not little to me.

Finally, finally, he straightens up. He's too far away for me to see many details, but from the motion of his head, I assume he's analyzing the rows of planting that were just complete.

If he starts working again, I'm literally going to scream.

To my relief, he shakes out his arms and finally turns around toward the house.

I'm not sure if he sees me or not, but his pace quickens as he gets closer.

I'm standing there watching him and trying not to glare too obviously.

When he's close enough for me to see his face, I can tell that his eyes are focused on me. He's moving in my direction with his long, fast strides. Before he reaches me, however, he makes an abrupt detour.

I huff in indignation even though I almost immediately realize he's going to a rain barrel to splash water on his hands, face, and arms.

I watch him do the quick, sloppy cleanup. He ends up with water all over his T-shirt. When combined with perspiration, it soaks all the way through the fabric. There aren't any towels outside, so he can't dry off. He just shakes himself off like a wet dog and then turns around to stride back to me.

He's not smiling, and neither am I.

"About time you came in," I say. There's more bite in my tone than I ever use. I'm not normally a sharp, sassy person, but I'm definitely pissed. "I thought you might work all the way through dinner."

He doesn't answer. He doesn't acknowledge my words in any way. When he reaches me, he grabs my hand and starts pulling me after him as he walks toward the right.

"What are you doing?" I demand, coming with him automatically. His grip on my hand is firm, but I have no doubt I could pull away. I just don't want to. "Dinner is in less than ten minutes."

"This won't take more than five," he says thickly.

"What? What is going on, Jimmy?" He's walking so fast I have to jog to keep up with him. "If you want something, you could use your words like a civilized person instead of dragging me with you like some sort of caveman. I was out there waiting for you instead of enjoying myself inside with everyone else, so the least you can do is?—"

My long, outraged ramble is interrupted by Jimmy swinging me around so my back is against the wall of the outbuilding that stores all the equipment. He takes my head in both his hands and stares at me intensely for a few seconds until he leans down and kisses me hard.

He doesn't kiss me all that often. Ever since that first kiss when I was on his lap after my breakdown, he'll do it occasionally. Usually when he's soft and groggy after sex, but sometimes out of bed too. Kissing was never part of our relationship from the beginning, and we still hardly do it.

I really like when he kisses me, but I wouldn't dream of complaining about the lack. Kissing is connected to romance, and that's not what we have. I've always been determined not to tell myself lies or build hopes around flimsy delusions.

What Jimmy and I have is good, but it's not love. And that's fine. It doesn't have to be.

So of course we don't kiss a lot.

His kiss now really surprises me. It's deep and hard and demanding, and his tongue moves all the way into my mouth. My lips part automatically, and my arms reach up around his neck. My heart is pounding so loud it's unnerving. I'm sure Jimmy must be able to hear it.

He has to lean over pretty far to reach my mouth since he's quite a bit taller than me. It's fine for me but must be uncomfortable for him because it's not long before he grabs me by the bottom and lifts me up, holding me against the wall at a better height for him to reach.

The move throws me off-balance even more. I wrap my legs around his middle more from self-preservation than from any intentionally sexy move. I'm wearing one of my long, cotton skirts today because I wanted to look pretty for Jimmy, so I have to awkwardly bunch it up to get my legs twined.

He's making hungry sounds into the kiss. He smells of dirt and sweat, but for some reason it's not as unpleasant as it should be.

He's raw. Natural. Almost primitive. And something inside me wants it.

He's panting when he finally breaks the kiss. I stare at him speechlessly, my cheeks blazing and my mouth so sensitized it might even be swollen. "What… what are you doing?"

"What do you think?" His voice is lower and huskier than normal.

"But… but dinner…"

"We'll be done in just a few minutes."

For some reason, that makes me giggle.

His expression softens slightly as he gazes at me. He's still holding me against the wall, and he must be completely worn out from a full day of hard work, but my weight doesn't appear to be a problem for him.

"You really want to have sex right here behind the garage? What if someone sees us?"

"You said they were all inside for dinner."

"They are. I guess we can as long as it's quick. How should we?—?"

Once again, my words are cut off by Jimmy's abrupt actions. He slides me down to my feet, yanks off my panties and undoes his jeans, pulling his cock out of his boxers.

"Oh." My eyes are wide, and I'm so excited I can barely catch my breath. I've never seen Jimmy like this before—on the edge of control.

"You need some foreplay?"

I shake my head. The swell of feeling has had an effect on my body. I might not be as wet as I get when he has the time for extended foreplay, but I'm definitely wet enough for comfortable sex.

"Hold up your skirt."

I do as he says, bunching it up toward my hips.

"Now part your legs a little more."

When I've repositioned, he bends his knees enough to line himself up at my entrance and then pushes me up the wall as he edges himself inside me.

It's intense, startling, even though I knew it was going to happen. He feels big and tight and there inside me, and I'm panting as I wrap my legs around him and hold on to his neck.

He's got me pressed against the wall of the building, and it isn't exactly comfortable. The texture is rough against my skin, even through the fabric of my clothes, and I feel the impact as he makes his first thrust.

But I don't care. I'm on a weird, visceral high, and I want it to carry me away.

"Fuck," he mutters, ducking his face against the crook of my neck as he thrusts his hips with a fast, primal rhythm. "Fuck, baby. I need this. I needed—" His words are interrupted by a long, hoarse groan as I start squeezing around him in my enthusiasm.

I'm not groaning, but I'm making weird little whimpers with every instroke. My eyes are blurring, and my head is overly full. I'm off-balance and overwhelmed and at the mercy of so many emotions and sensations that the world is spinning around me.

"That's so good," he murmurs when he's capable of speech again. His motion is getting faster and harder. "You're already so tight for me. You've been needing this too. Haven't you? Haven't you?"

I'm going to end up with a bruise on my back for sure, but I don't even care right now. Nothing has ever felt as intensely right as this. "Yeah. Yeah! Jimmy, yes!" That's the extent of my available vocabulary at the moment.

"Are you gonna come for me, baby?"

"Y-yeah!" I feel the climax mounting already. My pussy is fluttering in anticipation, and I tense up and squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to reach it. "Jimmy, I need it."

He's grunting roughly, the sound somehow matching his motion. He pushes into me until the coil of pressure finally releases at my center.

I choke on a cry as the orgasm overwhelms me. He comes right after, yanking his cock out at the last moment and squeezing it between our bodies as he climaxes. He smothers his exclamation of release against my shoulder.

It's over just as quickly as it started. My body is humming with satisfaction—and is also sore and shaky—and he gently puts me down on my feet. I have to cling to him to keep my knees from buckling.

We stand like that for a minute, until we've caught our breath and recovered our balance. Then I smooth down my skirt, and he tucks his cock back into his boxers and zips up his jeans.

I giggle, suddenly self-conscious. I have no idea why that just happened or what it might mean.

He smiles and strokes my hot cheek with his knuckles.

"I thought you'd be exhausted after all that work," I finally say.

"I am. But some things are more important." He slants a look at me. "I did miss you, Chloe."

I'm so happy I beam up at him. "I missed you too."

"I thought you were annoyed by me taking too long."

"Oh." Momentarily stumped, I decide how to handle it. "I was. You were being very slow, and I was tired of waiting for you."

"I was tryin' to finish the row. I hate leavin' things unfinished."

"I know you do. But still…" I give a little sniff, mostly pretending to hold on to my hurt feelings.

"Do I need to fuck you again to prove how much I missed you?" He asks the question in a teasing growl.

It works. I laugh again. He puts a hand on my back as we walk around the outbuilding and toward the back door of the main house. We're going to need to act normal when we head in for dinner or someone will suspect what we just did.

We both wash up before joining the others. Jimmy got dirt and sweat on me, and it's no longer imbued with that primitive significance, so I want to get it off.

Dinner is good. We chat with the others, and no one says a word that indicates they suspect we snuck off to have sex.

I'm in a good mood as the meal ends and Jimmy and I start back home.

I have no reason not to be.

Jimmy is coming home, and he admitted he missed me. He made it clear how much. And maybe a little insecure voice inside me has to acknowledge that the main thing he seems to have missed is sex—that's what he was immediately focused on, that's the thing he needed to act on—but that still doesn't mean anything problematic.

Of course the main thing he misses about our relationship is sex. That's one of the primary things I offer him. That and keeping his house. He cares about me. He wants to protect me. I have real value to him. And he misses me when we're apart.

The ways that I missed him weren't really about those things—they were deeper, more intimate—but that doesn't have to matter in the long run. We've both gotten what we wanted out of this arrangement. It's worked for us—better than we could have ever imagined—and I'm not going to mess things up by expecting something that will never happen.

Romance isn't in the cards for me, and that's fine. It's never been the most important thing. We can still build a satisfying, lifelong relationship without it.

So I'm going to be happy with what I have.