Exhaustion made it hard to keep my aching eyes open, so I gave in and closed them, opting instead to use my other senses. I had parked us for a break. The others were out stretching their legs or eating snacks, so it was just the two of us, Lynn and myself, on the bed in the back.

I let my fingers drift up and down her arm, slowly, carefully, knowing it was probably tickling her. Her skin was soft to my calloused hands. I would never tire of being next to her, touching her, just this little bit.

Music playing softly filled my ears in the absence of all other sounds. That, and Lynn’s quiet breathing. It was calming.

I sighed, letting some of the frayed ends of my emotions settle. The tension from everyone else was beginning to weigh in on me. I knew it had to be the same for the others, what with learning all of these new things as well as this sudden and important trip that was lacking in instruction and plan.

But I was struggling with another deeper memory. And the guilt that came with it.

I’d brushed it off before, telling myself that it is what it is. Whatever happened wasn’t my fault. But the longer I stared out at the road, the longer the minutes that passed and the silence that filled the camper as conversation trailed off, the worse it was. Everything with Myrus. I kept dragging over those what-ifs, those differences in actions from the last time I saw him. If I’d been able to get rid of him, if I’d killed him, we wouldn’t be here, on the road like this. Jane would be getting better at home with Lee. Lizzie, Kat, Noah, and Fallyn wouldn’t be straining their eyes trying to find even a piece of information that might help us. Jo wouldn’t be tagging along out of sheer worry for us all, nor out of a feeling of duty to her friendship with Minnie. And Minnie? She’d be home with her sick mother.

Lynn would be at home.

I would be at home with her.

We would all be going about normal lives right now, not worrying about tomorrow, about a decades old prophecy, about something that could kill us all.

“I can practically feel your train of thought, Will. Stop it.”

I chuckled a bit at her tired voice as she tapped a hand on the middle of my chest. I grabbed that offending hand and held it there, letting another sigh free.

“I’m just…”

“Stop thinking this is on you.”

For a moment, I couldn’t respond. From how she’d immediately guessed what was going through my mind, to the fact that I still couldn’t manage to stop those harsh thoughts and feelings, I was stunned into silence.

“Did you not hear them tell us that this was long before any of us being born? Is that your fault too?”

“No…” I whispered, my eyelids fluttering open when I felt her piercing glare, directed at my face. When our gazes collided, any words I’d been about to say trailed off helplessly. She was making that face. The one where I wouldn’t win against her stubbornness. A part of me was grateful for it. Very, very grateful she wasn’t budging on this topic.

“Then if you had nothing to do with what started this, how is it your fault?”

How was it…

I groaned, not finding a clear rebuttal to that statement.

“Alright. It’s not my fault. But–”

“No buts!”

Somehow, my thoughts cleared. Though, maybe it was because other thoughts intruded. Other… very different thoughts.

“No butts?” I smirked, reaching a hand behind her, trailing a line down her spine, all the way down to a plump bit of flesh. I poked her. “None at all?”

Lynn laughed, drawing me into her cheerfulness, banishing my guilt, for now at the very least. I chuckled with her, even as she reached around and patted my rear with her hand.

When we finally settled, she kissed my jaw slowly.

“I’m worried too, okay?”

I gazed down at her, pulling her closer and snuggling up close, like minimizing the distance would ease our minds. In a way, it did.

“You too?”

“Mhm.” She nodded into my chest. “I’m worried about Jane. About you, too.”

“Me?”

“This whole thing with Blackstones… if they have a grudge against…”

I hugged her tighter, realizing what it was she was truly worried about. About my blood being a factor in who might be attacked first. I couldn’t banish those fears with promises that might be broken. I couldn’t bring myself to lie and say it would all be okay, not when I was feeling the same.

I settled for the next best thing.

“I’ll do my best to be careful,” I whispered. “You know I put up a hell of a fight.”

As I closed my eyes again, I could hear the smile in her voice.

“As long as you try to be careful, I know your strength.”

We stayed like that embracing, resting, for as many hours as we could. The others came back and got some shut-eye before dawn arrived. I pulled myself out of the warmth Lynn and I created, ready to end this miserable interlude on the way to my happily ever after at home, which came with the option to sleep in, even if I didn’t use it much.