He rested his head against the wall. Molly spent a lot of time with him, so he didn’t have to occupy himself for too long. When she wasn’t around, and he couldn’t distract himself with crappy fiction, his thoughts drifted to his mom and little sister. The day it all started, he woke up in Molly’s bed and saw the ash outside. He called his house’s landline and his dad’s cell—his mom wasn’t allowed to have a phone because his dad said she was a whore who’d cheat on him the moment she got one—but nobody picked up. He left before Molly boarded up the windows, a scarf wrapped around his head. Told her he had to do it. He trudged through the gray to his dirt bike only a half mile away. But Andrew’s house was empty, and the family pickup was gone. His dad probably left with a spring in his step. No more worrying about feeding his son, not that he ever did.
Molly had it good even though she didn’t see it. Both her parents loved her, especially her dad. She would always say he didn’t give her space, but Andrew saw a man who cared about his daughter. A man who cared for his children. What an idea.
Since he didn’t know what happened to his mom and sister, he spent a lot of time imagining where they were. He liked to think they made it somewhere south. Somewhere safe and warm.
Right now, Molly was getting supplies. It made him feel like he was taking advantage of her. She denied she was depriving herself for his sake. Every night she brought back a quarter plate of prepared food, Molly telling him she just served herself extra, but each week her ribs seemed to grow more defined. She shouldn’t be shrinking, but she was.
The door creaked. “It’s me,” she said, and it clicked closed.
Her voice was quiet. They had to speak in a constant whisper, so much so he had almost forgotten the sound of her full voice. Andrew pushed the clothes aside and pulled the other sliding door toward himself. She stood there in skinny jeans and a brown hoodie, cans and jars resting in the front pouch. “I almost had to abandon the trip,” she said. “I heard people upstairs and freaked out. Then my aunt and brother were reading on the couch.”
She tipped her shirt to the side so that the contents spilled out onto her bed. He emerged from the closet and looked over the bounty she had brought—a couple cans of black beans, green beans, canned soup, and a big jar of beets. “I love me some beets,” he said, licking his lips.
She smacked his arm. “I tried to grab something nutritious. The basement freaks me out.”
“There’s nothing down there.”
“It’s not that,” she said, but no more.
He picked up one jar and looked at the distorted image through the glass. “We have to come clean eventually,” he said.
Molly’s jaw tightened. “They can’t know.”
“Why not?”
“It would break his heart.”
“This isn’t easy for me either.” Frankly, he was tired of sponge bathing, tired of pissing and shitting into a Tupperware container.
“I know, sweetie.”
He set the jar down. “He won’t disown you.”
“He would hurt you.”
“No, he wouldn’t.”
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to smile. “I don’t know.”
He lowered his voice even though they were already whispering. “There’s only so much time before we have to tell them. Before they figure it out.”
She looked down at the food and nodded, leaning toward him, brushing her lips against his unshaven cheek, and then pressing them against his lips. His heart exploded with joy. There was nothing better—nothing that could make him forget about everything else—than a kiss from her. His lust roared into overdrive, and he drew her in deeper, nudging her closer to the bed. When her legs hit the side, she fell backward onto the mattress, and he landed over her.
“Ouch,” she said, scrunching her face.
Andrew pulled back. “What?”
“Something’s digging into my back.” She bit her bottom lip and reached under herself. A second later, she came up, giggling, with a can of beans. “There it is,” she said and tossed it to the other side of the mattress.
He kissed her neck, Molly closing her eyes, Andrew reaching under her sweatshirt.
“Whoa there, buddy,” she said.
“Cold hands?”
“Freezing.”
He rubbed them together and grabbed the edge of her hoodie, pushing the fabric until he exposed her midriff. She looked down at him with her beautiful brown eyes, tears there, smiling. He kissed her navel and her bony hips and nestled his head against her stomach as if he could hear a secret message inside.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love—”
A blood-curdling scream downstairs. Molly sat up. Andrew dropped to his knees and stared at the door.
“Get back to the closet,” Molly said, jumping up and pulling down her hoodie.
“It wasn’t just someone freaked out by a spider, right?”
“Did it sound like it?”
It didn’t. She grabbed the doorknob and glared back at him. “Go,” she said.
“The food.”
“Crap.” She kneeled in front of the bed and tossed the cans and jars under the bed skirt. He hurried into the closet, closed the sliding door, and soon heard the bedroom door open and slam shut. He climbed through the mess of clothes and shoes back into his spot. His mind wandered downstairs to whoever was screaming. He wasn’t religious, but he prayed that everything was okay.
And he wished he could join them. No longer hidden.
THE DOOR OPENED, then shut, and he heard the distinct compression and release of the bed springs as Molly’s weight settled onto the mattress. He pushed the clothes to the side and slid open the closet door. She lay on her stomach, head buried into a pillow. He stayed back for a second. “What happened?”
She kept her face down for a few more seconds before turning over, her eyelids puffy, cheeks flushed. She curled into a ball.
Andrew sat next to her. He rubbed her back, and she turned around and latched onto his hips, resting her head on his lap.
“What happened?” Andrew said.
“Aidan had a seizure. A bad one.”
“Is he okay?”
“Mom and I just put him to bed.”
“Who was screaming?”
“My aunt.” A beat. “I don’t want to talk right now, okay?”
“Sure.” He lay down, and she cozied up next to him, resting her head into the curve between his chest and shoulder. He closed his eyes, smiling.
Drifted into sleep.
IT SOUNDED LIKE thunder.
His eyes shot open, and he looked down at Molly to see if it had wakened her. Her breathing hadn’t changed, and her eyes were shut. Something rumbled downstairs like an approaching stampede. “Molly,” he whispered.
Then came the yelling. It was faint at first, but the voices came closer along with the thunder. “Molly,” he said, shaking her.
She roused and grunted. “What?”
The second her eyes opened, she knew what was happening, and panic spread onto her face.
“You have no right to tell me how I need to be in my own home,” Sean yelled from down the hallway.
“Shit, shit,” she said and jumped up from the bed.
The footsteps thumped closer to the room. “Please, calm down, babe,” Elise said. “Please. Stop.”
“Hide, hide!” Molly hissed.
Andrew sat immobile, his muscles not reacting. He looked at the door with its lock popped out—unlocked. One doorknob turn away from being exposed. He snapped into survival mode and darted for the closet, diving inside, crashing his shoulder against the wall as he went in. The bedroom door shook with one booming crack.