Page 72 of Romancing in Rot

You’re stronger than you think, Clair. I’ll make sure you remember that.

Leon

P.S. Do you eat your Pop-Tarts cold or toasted?

I shake my head as a smile pulls at my mouth. Leon has been doing that for years. Slipping a hand into the dark when I didn’t know I needed one. Giving me room to breathe before I even understood I was suffocating.

I fold the letter carefully and place it in my pocket with the others.

When I look up, he’s there.

Leon walks back from lookout duty at the edge of camp, bow hanging loose from one hand. The early sun catches in his hair, lighting the red like a warning.

Or maybe a promise.

I’m not sure which one scares me more.

His shoulders are loose, but his eyes move over everything. The cars. The trees. The weapons. The people. Always working. Always watching. Our silent protector, taking inventory of the world before it can hurt us.

Then his gaze finds me.

And stops.

He stands there, still as the trees around him, frost-dark boots planted in the dead grass, notebook tucked into his back pocket, a few loose strands of red hair catching against his beard. The whole camp seems to quiet for one breath.

There is only him.

Looking at me like that.

My pulse kicks up.

This pull isn’t new. That’s the problem. It’s been here all along, quiet and ignored, shoved down every time it tried to surface because I didn’t get to want things.

My mom had opinions. My dad had expectations. Russ had control.

And I followed. Every time.

Even when it cost me pieces of myself I didn’t know how to get back.

Until now.

Until him.

I mouth the words, “Thank you.”

His expression shifts. A slow smile pulls at his mouth. Understanding more than I’m saying.

He dips his chin once, licks his finger, and slashes a tally in the air.

Then he turns and walks away, his steps steady and unhurried, every movement controlled. Like he’s aware of everything around him.

Including me.

My gaze drifts lower before I can stop it.

I drag it back up slowly, heat rushing through me, settling low and unfamiliar.

“Jesus, Clair.”