Blinking up at the canvas ceiling of my tent, I can't help but cringe at the embarrassment of what happened last night with Daryl. I was genuinely hoping we could be good friends but I probably scared him off. It's easy to guess that emotionally unstable women aren't exactly his ideal type of friend.

The distant clinking and mumbling of people up, about, and setting up breakfast sounds from outside my tent and I sit up with a groan. Stretching my arms above my head, I decide to get ready for the day. Months ago this included a skincare routine, a shower, coffee from my espresso machine, makeup, and heading to the hospital. Now I just put on whatever clothes that are somewhat clean, try to get the last of my deodorant out, brush my tangled hair, hope I don't smell like death, and pray to avoid the undead.

I push the slight grief of my old life to the back of my mind, reminding myself I'm lucky to still be alive. Pulling on a dark green t-shirt and my usual pair of worn jeans, I lace up my shoes and pull my hair back into the clip I found the other day. It's a blessing these days to get your hair out of the way. One less thing to worry about.

Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for the potential awkwardness and open my tent. Daryl isn't always here with us in the mornings, so I don't have to worry about seeing him. That doesn't make the tension from my confession yesterday- where I revealed I've been keeping a huge secret from them- any better.

Stepping out into the dim morning light, the first thing I notice is the grey and white clouds blanketing the sky. It's a refreshing change from the constant sun beating down. I've always loved cloudy weather. It reminds me of home, back in Washington state.

Someone calls for me to come over for breakfast and I comply, walking over with the friendliest smile I can muster plastered on my face.

Luckily the cloudy weather has made the group somewhat docile and sleepy, so there isn't as much conversation or bitterness as expected. I sip my poor-quality but still deeply appreciated instant coffee, trying to ignore the dirty look sent by Andrea in my direction.

She holds a grudge I guess. I'm sure she would love to know that her simply grabbing my arm yesterday sent me into a panic attack spiral which made me faint and then hallucinate my abusive ex.

"Sleep well?" Carol tiredly asks from beside me, Sophia curled up in the chair beside her, asleep. I look over, grateful to forget yesterday, nodding with a slight smile.

"You?" I ask, and she nods back wordlessly. A quiet morning indeed.

I try my hardest to stay neutral as the group starts to discuss the barn, a bit more awake now thanks to the coffee and topic being discussed.

"I just don't know why they have them in there, it's so dangerous," Carol mutters, casting a worried glance at said barn standing alone across the field. Its weathered façade stands innocently against the backdrop of the open field, concealing the horrors within.

"I talked to Herschel about it. He views walkers differently. Thinks they're just sick and can be cured. To him, it's his family and friends in there," Dale explains, looking up at us from his plate. It makes me sad. There is and will most likely never be a cure. Not for any of us.

Shane lets out a scoff, his bitterness evident "That's ridiculous," he grumbles, and I have to hold my tongue. Getting him angry and possibly shouting at me again would not be ideal. Especially after what happened yesterday.

"Shane, they've been shielded from what happened out here. They didn't even know about Atlanta. You can't blame them for having hope," Rick interjects, his voice soft but firm as he speaks beside Lori and sleepy Carl.

My gaze drifts to Rick briefly, quickly looking away as our eyes meet, suppressing the unpleasant and traitorous butterflies fluttering in my stomach. All just from one look.

Shane just shakes his head, staring at the dirt at his feet. I watch him for a moment and I swear I can actually see the fury building inside of him. It terrifies me.

It terrifies me because I know what a man like him is capable of when consumed by fury. I saw that same flaming anger in His eyes that I see in Shane's now.

My conversation with Dale from yesterday echoes in my mind. He had mentioned Shane's growing anger, simmering beneath the surface since they arrived. The initial distrust toward me, Herschel's gun confiscation, my joining the group when he didn't trust me, the ongoing disagreement about Fort Benning, the revelation about the barn, and my own lie—all contributing to the pressure building within him.

"I'm goin' for a walk," Shane mutters under his breath, pushing off his chair angrily and stalking off. His lawn chair tips over slowly, collapsing in the dirt with a dull thud as he storms away.

Rick starts to get up, likely to follow Shane, but Lori's hand on his arm halts him, her head shaking slightly. He settles back into his seat, eyes fixed on Shane's retreating figure with a mixture of concern and caution.

"Looks like there might be a storm brewing," Dale suggests, attempting to divert the conversation. A breeze sweeps through our makeshift dining area, carrying a hint of truth to his words.

Changing the subject. Good idea.

"Are you sure? Looks like it's just cloudy to me," Carol comments, looking up at the sky above us. I do the same, feeling comforted by the soft grey peaking through the evergreen leaves.

"I'm sure. My knee is sore and that happens every time it rains," Dale insists, making a few of us chuckle. "Hey, I'm serious! You won't be laughing when you get soaked to the bone because you didn't listen to me," Dale grins, sharing a conspiratorial wink with Carl, who responds with a giggle.

"Oh really?" Andrea quips challengingly with an amused smile, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Mhmm. Don't underestimate-"

Dale gets cut off by the jarring and gut-wrenching crack of gunshots that reverberate through the farm.

I scramble off my chair, looking around wildly, trying to find the source of the gunshots, my heart thundering anxiously in my chest. Others jump into action, grabbing weapons, searching for the source, and checking on others.

Lori pulls Carl into her side, Carol mirroring her actions with Sophia. "Mom, are there walkers?" Carl asks Lori with a quivering voice, who just looks around with panic, unsure what to say.

"Motherfucker!" Rick suddenly curses angrily to the right of me, before sprinting away. I furrow my brows before I see it, widening my eyes in disbelief.

It's Shane on the other side of the field, shooting the crowd of walkers stumbling out of the open barn.

Motherfucker!

Sprinting behind Rick, I can feel my heart sinking in my chest right as hot anger begins boiling in my veins.

This idiot is going to get us killed.

"What the hell are you doing Shane??" Rick demands furiously, voice is a thunderous mix of anger and disbelief as he confronts Shane. He slows to a halt, his hand resting on the grip of his weapon, his chest heaving from exertion.

"I'm doin' what we should've done yesterday! Taking out the trash," Shane growls, his eyes wild and his focus locked on shooting a stray walker in the head. Shots ring out, punctuating his words, and I can hear the distant chorus of shouts and hurried footsteps behind us as others catch on to the unfolding chaos.

Standing to the side, shifting on my feet nervously, I watch Shane and Rick, my heart pounding. This situation is feeling all too familiar to their fight yesterday. A clap of thunder booms around us, causing me to jump, my anxiety rising far past my comfort level.

"You need to think this through Shane!" Rick shouts over the suddenly deafening wind whipping around us.

Shane doesn't answer, continuing to take out walker after walker, each gunshot startling my nerves further.

Rick gives in as a huge wave of walkers pushes out of the barn, threatening to overrun Shane. I lurch back as a walker is suddenly right in front of my face, groaning sickeningly, its rotting arms reaching for me. I let out a scream, my hand fumbling for the knife that should be on my belt.

My heart skips a beat as a horrifying realization dawns on me.

My only weapon is still in my tent, on the end of my bed, sending a sickening wave of fear through me. I reel backward in shock and fear, my gut twisting in horror as I realize I'm unarmed, mere inches away from a deadly threat.

Fuck.

I stumble back frantically, my mind racing on what to do, adrenaline shooting through my body so fast it gives me whiplash.

A gunshot rings loudly in my ears and the walker collapses at my feet, a hole in its head.

Whipping my head to the side, I spot Rick, his gun leveled, a hard expression etched on his face.

"You alright?" Rick's shout snaps me back to the present, and I nod frantically, my breathing ragged and labored.

Jesus Christ.

"What the hell is going on here?" Herschel's voice thunders from behind me, and I wordlessly step to the side, still reeling at my close call.

"I did what needed to be done," Shane grinds out through gritted teeth as he approaches Herschel, a dark cloud of tension looming over him.

The walkers are all dead now. Around twenty of them lie in grotesque disarray, their twice-dead bodies scattered around the barn doors. The stench of decaying flesh hangs heavily in the air, and I press my finger to my nostrils to block out the overpowering smell.

Beth and Patricia cry out in anguish as they see what has happened, recognizing their former loved ones among the fallen. My heart aches for them, the pain of seeing their family in such a state palpable even from a distance.

I can see the four figures of Lori, Carol, Carl, and Sophia at the top of the hill, hugging each other tightly, watching us. It's a good thing the kids aren't here to see this.

"You had no right-"

"We are living here too Herschel" Shane spits angrily in response, staring Herschel down with the most hateful glare I have ever seen, those dark eyes consumed with fury.

"Shane," Rick warns dangerously as Herschel's face scrunches up with anger.

"Not anymore you don't. I want you all gone. Now! " Herschel shouts with finality, before striding off towards the farmhouse.

"Shit." I breathe, hanging my head.

"It's okay Princess, we'll find a place worthy of you and your fuckin' lies," Shane mutters bitterly, making me scoff, turning to him with my arms crossed, glaring harshly.

"What did you just say to me?"

"Enough, you two," Rick growls, standing between the two of us, making Shane clench his jaw in frustration. In the distance, a truck engine roars, and I glance over just in time to see the old teal truck at the farmhouse peel out of the dirt driveway and speed away.

"Great," Rick mutters, before walking over to Patricia and Beth. I see him talking to them and nodding as they talk back.

"What the hell is goin' on? I was hunting then heard gunshots. Everyone okay?" Daryl asks worriedly from beside me, covered in dirt, holding his crossbow in one hand and a string of dead squirrels in the other.

"Oh, Shane here opened the barn and shot all the walkers," I inform Daryl, side-eyeing Shane. "Getting us kicked out," I tell Daryl, trying my hardest to not allow the reality of the situation to fully hit me as Shane just glares back coldly.

Before Daryl can reply or Shane can give me a piece of his mind, terrified scream slices through the air. We turn to see Rick cradling a limp Beth in her arms, making my heart sink.

I rush over while Patricia hyperventilates, staring down at Beth with wide, panicked eyes. "She was just sitting here when all of a sudden- She just collapsed!" Patricia cries, and I try to calm her down as I squat in front of Rick, giving a quick assessment of Beth in his arms.

"Hey, it's okay, I think it's shock, she'll be okay. We just need to get her inside." I order, glancing up at Rick, who nods in agreement before standing up, hoisting the girl in his arms before carrying her to the farmhouse, me and Patricia following.

We take her inside the farmhouse and after a quick evaluation, with all her vitals staying relatively normal, I confirm it's most definitely shock. Rick, who has seen plenty of shock victims in his line of work, agrees.

Maggie sits on the bed beside her, holding her limp hand, tears streaming down her face.

"She'll be alright," I promise Maggie, who just nods absentmindedly, her eyes not leaving her younger sister.

A couple of hours later, Beth wakes up and we get her some food while Maggie and Patricia talk with her. 

Afterward, I come downstairs to see Rick and Glenn talking in hushed tones. "What's going on?" I ask, glancing between the two of them.

"Patricia knows a place Herschel could have gone. We need to talk to him- convince him to let us stay." Rick explains, his hand resting on his gun holster.

"Good idea," I respond, nodding, thinking deeply. He's right. It's our only hope to stay.

We decide that he, Glenn, and I will go try to talk some sense into him. We get Daryl, Andrea, and Dale to keep Shane docile and away from doing something else just as reckless.

The three of us take the light green SUV that Shane had found a week ago. Before we leave, we say brief goodbyes, and I try to ignore the chaste kiss shared between Rick and Lori.

I turn, swallowing thickly as I climb into the back seat of the SUV. Enough now.

The car ride is quiet as Rick drives and Glenn gives directions in the passenger seat. They speak quietly, so for me, the main thing I hear is the calming and rhythmic sound of raindrops pattering on the metal roof.

I smile slightly in amusement. Dale was right.

"Where exactly are we headed?" I ask, looking to the front as Rick's blue eyes flit to mine in the rearview mirror.

"A bar downtown. Turns out Herschel used to be quite the drinker," Rick explains and I nod, chewing on my lip. Makes sense he would go there, I can't imagine what he must have felt seeing what Shane did.

I feel like this is all my fault for contributing to Shane's anger. If I hadn't gotten him so riled up about my lie and the barn, maybe we wouldn't be here.

We pull up to a small bar downtown on a narrow and mostly barren road. There are only a couple of small identifiable buildings nearby. A gym, a coffee shop, a library, and a thrift store. Between the faded and clearly abandoned cars on the street is the familiar teal truck parked neatly in front of the bar.

We slide into the only open parking in the lot on the other side of the street, quickly running across to avoid being soaked in the downpour.

Practically crashing through the double doors of the bar, Rick, Glenn, and I stand at the entrance, dripping onto the dust-covered floors.

Herschel doesn't flinch at the other end of the room, sitting at the bar facing away from us. There is a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels beside him and a pistol on the other side. The bar is dark and dingy, reminiscent of a wild west film, with a large glass chandelier hanging above the bar in the middle of the room.

I glance between Rick and Glenn before taking a couple of tentative steps toward Herschel. "Hey, Herschel," I announce softly.

"Whose with you?" Herschel asks, still unmoving from his spot at the bar.

"Rick and Glenn" I confirm, keeping my voice calm.

"Maggie sent Glenn?" Herschel assumes, his head tilting slightly to the side.

"No, he volunteered, he's good like that." I say, sparing a warm glance at Glenn beside me.

Rick walks past me and stands with Herschel, assessing the older man. "Your girls need you, Herschel. Beth collapsed and is in shock, and I think you are too. Why don't we finish this bottle at home?" Rick suggests, firm but understanding. Suddenly I get the feeling that he must have been a really good cop.

"What can I do for them? All I've done is prolong their grief," Herschel confides softly, traces of disgust at his actions on his face, turning the dusty tumbler in his hands.

I've never seen him so vulnerable and upset. It's heartbreaking.

"You can't blame yourself. You thought there was a cure," I insist comfortingly, coming up to the left side of Herschel.

"The last time I had hope was when I saw you, Rick, running in my field with your boy in your arms. I had some hope he would survive" Herschel murmurs.

"And he did," Rick stresses, those eyes meeting mine, his appreciation clear. "Thanks to you and Cassandra," He adds, only for Herschel to shake his head.

"I was a fool. I thought it was a miracle but it was all a sham. My people lost Otis while yours got your boy and Shane back. I'm a fool. That's it. My daughters deserve better than that," He grumbles, pouring more of his Jack Daniels into his glass clumsily. Rick's eyes meet mine with wariness.

This isn't going to be easy.

A couple of hours pass by, the low sunlight steadily disappearing as we try to reason with Herschel.

When Herschel is slurring his words, unable to stand without help, we decide to guide him back to the farm with us. He doesn't know any better at this point.

The sky is darkening rapidly outside the windows, signaling the fact that we shouldn't be out here any longer. Not at this time or state of the weather. It has been nonstop raining outside, the heavy raindrops pounding against this old building relentlessly.

Glenn and Rick hoist an incoherently mumbling Herschel up, holding him up on either side.

"Here, I'll go across the street and get the car started and bring it over," I suggest, and Rick nods, tossing me the keys.

The four of us open the door of the bar into the rain. I jog into the street, headed for the car in the parking lot.

I stop in my tracks at the sudden crashing sound to the left of me. Whipping my head over, my eyes widen at the sight of a wall of brown water barreling down the top of the street, right for me. I begin to rush to the other side of the street when I trip on a walker corpse at my feet.

I try scrambling to my feet and hear Rick and Glenn shouting at me from behind me, but I keep slipping in the water already gathered at my feet, realizing my shoelace is stuck in the manhole in the middle of the tarmac.

"I'm stuck!" I scream desperately through the deafening sound of the crashing flood, wind, and rain.

Just as I think I won't make it, I feel strong arms wrap around me, pulling me harshly forward, dislodging my foot from my stuck shoe. We fall to the ground, scrambling onto the sidewalk just as the flood reaches my legs. The freezing water soaks my bottom half for a second before Rick hoists me up and I stumble on my feet.

I stare at him for a moment, gasping for air. The world seems to stop as I stand there, his hands on my shoulders, my heart thundering against my ribcage. It feels oddly similar to the night in the towel.

He just saved me. for the second time today. "Thank you," I manage through my heaving breaths, and he nods, breathing heavily as well, his hands dropping to his sides. We both look back to see Glenn struggling to keep Herschel up.

"Take him inside! We have to wait out the flood, most likely overnight, stay warm and dry!" Rick shouts, and Glenn nods, lugging Herschel back into the bar.

Rick nudges his head towards the library right beside us. "We're going to have to wait it out here," Rick says and I nod, grabbing the handgun I had retrieved before we left, making a point after not having it or the knife this morning. Rick pulls out his revolver, checking with me again before breaking open the door.

The two of us carefully walk through the doorway into the heavily dusted room, our weapons drawn. I take off my left shoe, as my right one was taken with the flood, leaving me in my socks.

I survey the small room, noting the very few and sparsely filled bookshelves. Scattered on the walls are a good amount of faded posters for books and encouraging reading, flyers for upcoming events, and a board of the best readers in town. The few bookshelves are staggered around a small sitting area in the middle with a librarian desk snuggly placed to the right.

We decide I'll take the right side and Rick takes the left. Slowly stalking through the shelves, I have my gun at the ready. I make sure to flip off the safety this time.

A small bit of me feels happy to be surrounded by books again. It's a comfort- one that I obsessively indulged in as a kid.

... I wasn't exactly cool.

I reach the far wall, facing a faded and torn 'Reading is Fun!' poster with a frog reading a red book on it. I smile slightly.

My smile falls when I hear a weak and dry groan to the left of me. I whip around gun at the ready, to see the emaciated walker lying behind the desk on the floor. It groans weakly again, barely being able to raise its frail arm. It was an old man or woman, a pair of glasses with a colorfully beaded chain around its neck. The librarian I'm guessing

Instead of feeling fear, disgust, and anger like when I usually see a walker, all I feel now is pity as I look down at it. This person probably died alone.

I squat down right in front of it as it blinks its milky eyes at me, the jaw snapping incessantly as its face twists up at me. I put away my gun, rip my knife from my belt, and plunge it through the top of its cranium swiftly. The walker collapses to the ground, lifeless once again. I rip my knife back, securing it back on my belt.

After surveying my side thoroughly, I arrive at the middle sitting area. "All clear on my end," I announce, and Rick appears, a book in hand.

"Same here. The only exit is the front door which we should barricade. The bathroom is empty too," He comments and I nod.

"I had a walker librarian but took care of it," I say casually, sitting down on one of the few armchairs placed in a circle.

"I could've helped, Cass," Rick sighs exasperatedly, looking over at the library desk with concern.

"It could barely raise an arm, I was fine. But I'm sure that's hard to believe after having to be saved by you twice today," I mutter under my breath, wiping my bloodied knife off on the strangely shaped armchair I'm sitting in.

"I didn't say that. I just meant that you're not alone," Rick replies and my eyes dart up to meet his genuine gaze. I nod simply, embarrassment flushing my cheeks as I avert my gaze from his. It's hard sometimes to realize most men aren't trying to manipulate you and make you feel crazy.

"I guess literature wasn't the highest priority in this town," I comment, running a finger on the heavily dusted side table beside me. The dust is practically an inch thick. Definitely from before the turn.

Rick lets out a faint chuckle as he starts tearing out pages from a book he was holding, making me let out a horrified gasp, jumping up and ripping the book from his grasp.

"What are you doing? This is Jane Austen !" I protest, holding the book a safe distance from his destructive hands. Rick raises an eyebrow.

"I'm gathering supplies for a fire. So we don't freeze to death. Is that an issue?" He asks, an edge to his voice.

I try not to take it personally. He hasn't been the same lately which is understandable, considering. It just makes me miss the happier Rick. The one who played soccer with his child with a wide and carefree grin on his face.

I purse my lips. "Okay. you may have a point. But- maybe choose some biographies or nonfiction books or something not Jane Austen." I suggest, to which he nods once, amusement flashing over his formerly stoic expression.

"Yes ma'am" He mutters playfully, making his way to the biography section of the small library. My stomach swoops at the way he said those two words, his voice low and teasing, making me turn from him to hide my smile, biting my lip.

Catching myself, I wipe the smile off my face, reminding myself that he's married.

Damn it. Why won't these feelings go away?

"Hey- one more thing. You should take off your shirt and jeans," Rick orders absentmindedly. I widen my eyes slightly as I slowly turn to face him on the other side of the library by the biographies. He glances up to see my incredulous expression. His face flushes and his eyes widen in realization.

"Oh! No- it's just- we need to take off any wet clothes, so we don't get sick," Rick explains hurriedly.

I let out a breathless laugh in realization and nod with a smile. He is right. We don't need to get sick. Can't believe I didn't think about that.

That doesn't exactly make it less awkward. I had previously fantasized about stripping down in my underwear around him but this isn't exactly what I had in mind.

I glance back over to see him without his dark button-up, hanging it over a bookshelf to let it dry out. My traitorous eyes rake over his exposed torso, making my mouth dry out at the sight. I have to forcefully drag my eyes away from his figure, my heart hammering in my chest.

This situation really isn't helping the already inappropriate thoughts that float around my mind when I'm around him.

The lucky bastard doesn't need to take off his jeans because he didn't fall into the flash flood like an idiot. I look down at my socks trying to figure out what to do. I think I am entirely too uncomfortable to be basically naked around him while he's shirtless. It just feels wrong as much as I want it to be right.

"Here," Rick's voice breaks my thoughts. I look up to find him extending a blanket toward me. A genuine sense of gratitude warms my heart as I offer a thankful smile.

"Thank you," I whisper, and he nods once, before turning and tearing up more of the books. And here lies the problem- why these damn feelings won't go away. He's not only incredibly attractive, but he's also kind, strong, and a gentleman.

I'm doomed.

Ducking behind a shelf with the most books I could find, which isn't saying much here, I start to undress, pulling off my soaked jeans and shirt which cling unpleasantly to my skin.

Shivering slightly as I wrap the blanket around myself, I bend down to grab my wet clothes. I round the corner, struggling to throw the clothes up around the bookshelf with one hand.

"Let me help you," Rick offers from behind me but I shake my head, a strange stubbornness coming over me. I want to be able to do one thing today. I don't need him to save me at every obstacle.

"I can do it, thank you," I mutter stubbornly, jumping and throwing the clothes up around the bookshelf. Simultaneously, the blanket gets dislodged from my grip, falling to the floor.

Of fucking course.

My gaze drops, and I find Rick kneeling down to retrieve the fallen blanket. He glances up at me, those eyes meeting mine, and my skin flares with goosebumps. And it's not because I was caught in a flash flood and soaked to the bone.

The goosebumps prickle across my skin because I'm standing in my underwear, looking down at Rick at my feet, gazing up at me. With those fucking eyes.

A million scenarios go flying through my mind as I gaze down at him, frozen. Most of these scenarios end with his warm, large, rough hands on me, my hands tangling in those curls of his, and his mouth on various parts of my body.

Damnit Cassandra- get a grip.

Rick takes a millisecond before quickly standing, wrapping the blanket around me once again.

"Maybe you should accept help when offered," Rick mutters into my ear, a trace of smugness in his tone. Clutching the blanket tightly, I shoot him an annoyed look before brushing past him, feeling those infuriating butterflies fluttering in my stomach once again.

Rick and I work for a couple more minutes, ripping apart useless books. We create a pile of ripped-out pages and one dismembered chair. Rick lights it and we both settle close enough to feel the warmth but still far enough to be safe.

We stare into the small fire in silence for a while.

It's nice.

It gives me a moment to lecture myself on my wandering thoughts, trying to push those scenarios of Rick to the depths of my mind. I also try not to focus on the fact that I'm sitting less than a foot away from Rick, practically naked under the strange and itchy blanket wrapped around me.

I steal a glance at Rick, who is staring into the base of the flames, a hard and unreadable expression on his face. I bite my lip, realizing I'm too curious to keep quiet.

"Rick, are you alright?" I inquire, turning to face him and see his reaction. Deep emotion flickers across his face before he glances at me.

"I don't know," He says simply, furrowing his brows. "I'm sure you've heard that Lori's pregnant. After what Shane did- I'm terrified of what will happen now," Rick confides, his worried eyes meeting mine.

Another thing. He's always honest.

"No matter where we are Rick, you have a group of people who care about you and Lori. You have to realize you guys are not alone in this. I'm here to help with any pregnancy and baby health milestones. And those people will be there to help care for that baby. You know that," I point out, making him nod thoughtfully.

"If we can convince Herschel to let us stay, that farm will be an incredible place to raise the baby. God forbid that doesn't work, you have all of us to help you. We have survived this long, we can survive through this," I say encouragingly. Rick looks at me, his expression softening.

"Thank you. I needed that," He admits, and I smile warmly.

"You're not alone in this. We all have your back." I assure him. "And Carl? That kid is going to be the best older brother ever!" I enthuse, making Rick break out with a proud grin.

"Very true," Rick responds, his smile actually reaching his eyes this time, filling me with satisfaction, not being able to help smiling myself.

We slip into another comfortable silence, the crackling fire providing a soothing backdrop. The rain continues its rhythmic patter on the roof, and the flash flood is still rampaging outside.

"Cass," Rick voice breaks the silence, causing me to turn and face him curiously. "Daryl told me about last night. I'm sorry that I had anything to attribute to that-" Rick starts, but I cut him off, my face warming with embarrassment.

"It's no one's fault but his for treating me so badly it still affects me a year later," I mumble with discomfort, shaking my head, not being able to look Rick in the eyes.

"Still. I'm sorry that happened to you. I've seen my fair share of domestic abuse in my job and it was always so hard," Rick tells me genuinely, sending a flutter of appreciation through me.

"This may sound horrible but I hope he's dead. I can't imagine having to face him again, in this world-" I start, my voice catching with emotion, anxiety rising in my chest.

Rick's hand suddenly rests on my forearm, and my eyes dart to his, my pulse jumping. "He's probably dead. If he isn't- just as you told me, you have a group of people who have your back," Rick emphasizes, his eyes locked onto mine.

A wave of gratitude washes over me, and I feel very thankful once again that I found Sophia that day.

"Right," I admit with a smile, feeling relief once he pulls his hand back gently. Not because I don't like the feeling of his hands on me but because I think my heart might explode because of how quickly it was racing.

As I watch the flames again, I feel myself getting drowsy. I set up a makeshift bed beside the now-dying fire and Rick does the same. Because of the small space, the only way for us to lay out fully is to lie side by side, so we do that.

It isn't long before I drift off to sleep, exhausted emotionally and physically. Weirdly, lying beside Rick in an abandoned library in the apocalypse is the safest I've felt in a while.

- Rick's POV -

I blink and squint through the sunlight burning unpleasantly in my eyes. For once, I wake to feel decently well-rested. Usually, I wake up already paranoid.

I fully open my eyes, blinking away the sleep, only to freeze when I'm met with Cass's face inches from mine, fast asleep. I'm taken aback for a moment at how much detail I can see in her face.

Her dark and full eyelashes fan over her lightly freckled cheeks as she sleeps soundly. Something stirs deep within me, my gaze drinking in her features, my throat tightening involuntarily.

She twitches in her sleep, drawing my attention to the fact that our limbs are interlaced.

I widen my eyes and my stomach spasms. In our sleep, we must have shuffled together for warmth. Gulping nervously, I glance down at her bare legs intertwined with mine, her arm draped over my bare chest. My pulse jumps and guilt twits unpleasantly in my stomach at the sight.

As gently as I can manage, I dislodge myself from Cass, who stays fast asleep, breathing softly. I grab the blanket that had fallen off her exposed skin, covering her once again.

She stirs slightly, mumbling incoherently in her sleep, making me smile slightly in fondness. She seems so peaceful, her expression devoid of the heart-wrenching sadness that was etched on her face last night.

Shaking my head, I force myself to look away from her. I reach for my shirt and pull it over my head with a sigh. It's not entirely dry, but it will do,

I can't help but glance back at Cass, sleeping soundly on the floor, her copper hair splayed around her head like a halo. Exhaling slowly, I push back the waves of guilt lapping at my conscience.

I should feel guilty for spending the night cuddled up with a beautiful and practically naked woman when I have a wife at home.

A wife that cheated on me.

With my best friend.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair and down my face. She thought I was dead. I remind myself. A bitter part of me adds, interesting her first reaction to hearing you were dead was fucking Shane.

I shake my head, trying to shake those thoughts away. I have a responsibility as a husband and father. There isn't time for this when we have so much else going on.

I step into my boots and sling on my belt, adjusting my gun on the holster. Opening the library door, I'm met with a dry but dirt-covered road, debris scattered across the asphalt. The sun is shining brightly down on me, not a cloud in the sky. My watch reads a quarter past nine.

Crossing the street, I pause to retrieve Cass's shoe which had miraculously stayed stuck to the manhole through that flood. I enter the bar to see Glenn and Herschel already awake, sitting against a wall, talking.

"Hey, you two alright?" I check, and they both nod. Herschel gets up, struggling for a moment, slightly unsteady on his feet.

"I need to get back to the farm. Make sure everyone is okay." He urges, and I nod in agreement, glancing around the bar for a second.

"I agree. Get your stuff ready and meet me at the car," I instruct, and the duo complies, gathering their stuff while I head back to the library to wake Cass up.

As I walk through the door, I'm met with Cass pulling her shirt back on and turning to me. My eyes catch the last bit of her exposed torso before getting covered by her dark green t-shirt. I force my eyes to meet hers, her curious gaze meeting mine.

"Glenn and Herschel are ready to get back to the farm," I inform her, and she nods, bending down to grab her gun and knife.

I avert my eyes from her ass, attempting to regain control over myself, my heart beating a bit faster than usual.

What's happening? I never had an issue around her before.

Except for that moment when she was in the towel, staring up at me, her towel placed in a way that showed off her chest. But that was just a physical reaction. Right?

I shake my head again, desperately trying to get these uncomfortable thoughts out of my mind, glancing behind me outside to see Glenn and Herschel crossing the street, squinting in the bright sunlight. Cass brushes past me lightly, car keys in hand. "Wait," I interject, holding out her shoe.

She grins widely, grabbing her shoe back and pulling it on her foot. "Thanks!" she says breezily, before heading to unlock the car and let Glenn and Herschel in.

Smiling to myself for a moment, I look back into the library, checking to make sure we didn't leave anything behind, my eyes lingering on the spot we slept in for a second too long.