Three days later, they were finishing the final preparations for Thom, Seamus, Cameron, and J.T. to ride out on their trading run—more of a scouting run, if Thom was honest with himself about the whole thing.
Still not sure what we’ll run into out there, after all—not sure what there is to find. They had an idea of what was close—the settlement of survivors near where Holland used to be, but beyond that, they didn’t have much of anything to on at all.
Touch and go—gut feelings and signs of life. That’s all we’ll have.
He checked the bindings on the pack horse’s load again, trying to ignore the fact that he’d have to say good-bye to his wife soon, that he’d be leaving her alone here for at least a week, maybe longer. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Marin any more than Cameron liked leaving Neve, or J.T. liked leaving Carolyn, or Seamus liked leaving Leinth, but it had to be done.
There are too many things in our lives that are like that. That had better change someday.
He had little faith that it would without their forcing the issue.
A hand touched his shoulder. He didn’t have to turn to know it was her. He leaned against the pack horse’s flank and sighed as Marin slid her arms around his waist.
“I almost want to ask you to come with us,” he murmured. Marin laughed, her breath stirring the hairs on the back of his neck.
“What’s stopping you?” she asked softly.
“I don’t want to risk you like that.” He sighed and wrapped one of his hands around hers and squeezed tightly. “You’ll be careful while I’m gone?”
“Only if you make me the same promise.” Marin pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “You will, won’t you?”
“I’ll come home,” Thom promised. “I’ll always come home.”
