Part 23 (1/2)

Peyton stifled a yawn. Helga looked over from her spot by the fire and grinned. ”If you want, I'll watch them so you can go to bed,” she suggested.

Peyton shook her head. ”Thanks, but I'm good.”

Helga looked unconvinced, and Peyton understood why. She wasn't just internally exhausted and sick; she looked terrible on the outside, too. The color had drained from her face and her lips were now all but translucent. She'd lost weight, too. Muscle ma.s.s. The stuff that helped her fight.

She watched Chase pa.s.s by and gave him a small wave. He had his eyes to the ground and must have missed the gesture, because he didn't wave back. Instead, he headed into his tent and pulled the flaps closed. Concerned, Peyton turned to Helga.

”If you don't mind watching them...”

Helga waved her off. ”Go see what's wrong.”

With effort she rose to her feet and headed to the tent. All she wanted was to crawl inside and wrap her arms around him. That always made everything better.

Chase pulled the sleeping bag over his head and closed his eyes, trying to force sleep. He knew it was futile; it was probably only around seven. The sun hadn't even set. There was no way he'd pa.s.s out for hours. But what else was he supposed to do, go hang out with Peyton? She'd only want to cuddle up to him, hug him, kiss him. And that would be too hard to face.

He turned over on his side, staring at the tent wall. The day had been almost unbearable as it was. Every itch, every tingle, and he was positive he was transforming into one of them. Even though he knew for a fact it'd take weeks for any noticeable change to take place. If a change took place at all, he reminded himself. It was entirely possible he was immune. Like Tank. Still, hope was little comfort. And not being able to share his fears with Peyton made them all the more unbearable.

He tried to think of other things, but without much luck. Impending demise did that to a guy. Not to mention it took every ounce of willpower to stay clear of Peyton. She'd noticed his avoidance; he was sure of it. He'd caught her questioning look a few times as they rode down the highway. And when they'd all celebrated their arrival in Florida? He'd very obviously held back.

If only he could tell her the truth: that it wasn't her, it was him. And not him exactly, either. He would tell her that there was nothing on this planet he'd rather do than curl up in her arms and kiss her until the sun rose, wors.h.i.+ping her like the G.o.ddess he knew she was. But he didn't want to face her questions. What was wrong with him? Why was he holding back? Questions he couldn't answer. Not when it put her life at stake.

If only she wasn't getting sick. If only she wasn't running out of time. They could have set up camp for a few weeks, put him in quarantine like they used to back in Walmart. Or he could have let them go, with him promising to catch up if he didn't turn.

But he didn't have that luxury. She was getting weaker every day. Soon she wouldn't even be able to ride a horse without being held up. She had to get to Disney. Soon. And he had promised he'd get her there. Without him, she'd die. And he wouldn't-couldn't-let that happen.

”Chase?”

He stifled a groan as her blond head peeked inside the tent. Great. He should have known this was coming. Next thing she'd be crawling inside. Wanting him to kiss her. To hug her. But he couldn't do that anymore. There was no way he'd take the chance of her getting infected.

He tried not answering, praying she'd think him asleep and would wander off to play with the children or chat with Helga. But he knew in his heart she'd never do that. And sure enough, a moment later he heard her enter the tent. Felt her sitting down beside him. Her hand reached up to stroke his hair. He lay still for a moment, sad and angry at the world. Then he jerked his head away. It took effort. Major effort.

He could see her in the shadows, c.o.c.king her head in confusion. ”What's wrong?” she asked, her voice laced with concern. ”You're acting weird. You've been acting weird all day.”

It wasn't fair. He'd finally regained his true love. The girl he'd waited a lifetime for. His G.o.ddess. And now he had to push her away. Make her hate him.

Not fair at all.

”It's nothing,” he forced himself to grind out, hoping she wouldn't catch the tremble in his voice. There was only one thing to do, and it was likely going to kill him to do it. Kill him and crush her.

But better to be crushed than dead.

Her hand reached out to touch him again. His arm. It was probably okay that she was touching his arm, right? Though he didn't want to take any chances.

”It doesn't sound like nothing. You sound upset.”

”I'm not upset. I'm just tired. And as always, you refuse to give me any s.p.a.ce.”

Even in the tent's dim light, he could see her face drain of color. ”What do you mean?” she asked. Her voice was filled with confusion and hurt. He felt like such a jerk.

”You're always here. Smothering me. Blabbing on and on.” He gritted his teeth. ”A guy needs his s.p.a.ce, you know. Doesn't need some chick always hanging on him twenty-four-seven.”

Her silence pierced his heart more than any words she could have said. He wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around her and tell her it was all a joke. That he loved having her by his side and never wanted her to leave it as long as they both should live. But he couldn't. In fact, it was very likely they'd soon be separated permanently... through death. It was the worst thought in the world.

”Look, maybe this was a mistake, hooking up like this,” he continued, struggling to drive his point home. ”Maybe we should go back to being friends.”

”Hooking up?” she repeated, her voice trembling, and he knew she was this close to bursting into tears. He didn't deserve to live for torturing her like this. ”Is that all it was to you? I thought... I thought...”

”Thought what, Peyton?”

”I thought you loved me,” she said quietly, honestly, her pain naked and open to the world. He'd wanted the ice queen to melt for so long. And now she had. Now she was drowning in the waters of vulnerability. And he was making her pay for her weakness.

”Yeah, well, you know, we've said a lot of things and...”

”Chase, did I do something? Tell me what I did! Don't shut me out!”

”You didn't do anything. It's not you, it's me. It's just not working out and I figured it was better to tell you now than later.” Ugh. His words sounded so stupid, so lame. Surely she could see right through them and realize something wasn't adding up. But no, the look on her face told him she had bought every lie.

”Fine.” She pursed her lips, obviously fighting for some sort of control. ”I'll leave you alone then. Give you your precious s.p.a.ce.” She stumbled as she tried to crawl out of the tent, tripping over a tangle of blankets. A small sob escaped her, and the sound broke his heart.

He'd hurt her. After they'd promised each other the world. She'd freely offered up her mind, body, and soul to him, and he'd crushed all three in one fell swoop. She'd probably never forgive him. She'd probably hate him forever.

But what else could he do? Her life was worth more to him than his own. He'd promised to get her to Disney World, and he'd do so. If it took him to his last dying breath, he'd do it.

His only hope was that someday he'd be able to explain why.

Peyton burst from the tent, finally allowing the tears to stream from her eyes through the drainage vents of her lenses, vents she'd demanded her father include as modifications when he did the operations. She didn't want to be like Molly Millions; she wanted to cry when she had to. In some ways, that was an important part of life. Being caged wasn't living, and neither was caging your emotions. Or course, what had indulging her emotions gotten her?

She probably looked crazy. A total wreck. But her heart was broken. And she didn't care about the rest.

She should have never gotten involved with him. She'd been right from the start. If only she'd concentrated on her mission, left him in Walmart, or at least not fallen for him on the road. She should have stayed strong, not let love cloud her judgment. Her dad would be so ashamed. Thinking about it now, maybe he'd been right.

She'd thought Chase was different. That he was the same boy she'd loved so many years ago. But he had changed. They all had. And there was no going back to a fairy tale.

She considered leaving. Sneaking off in the night and heading to Disney alone. But that wasn't possible anymore. She'd put herself in the position where she needed help. She was too weak to make the rest of the journey on her own. She'd left herself vulnerable. Stupid her, for trusting him and allowing herself to be dependent on another person.

That was why her father's beloved Molly Millions had always worked on her own, she reminded herself, never partnering with anyone for more than a brief mission. It's just how I'm wired, she'd said in her goodbye note to the hero at the end of the book. Peyton should have wired herself the same way. Trusted her dad's instructions. But she'd been emotionally weak. Allowed herself to believe, to hope, to love. And look where it had gotten her.

She sank to her knees at the edge of the camp, choking back her sobs. She could hear her dad's words at the back of her head. Molly Millions doesn't cry. When she's sad, she spits.

Peyton tried to spit. But her mouth was too dry.