In the last installment…
MORNING BROKE SLOW and humid, sunlight sneaking past the blinds. The dorm was quiet, the kind of hush that comes when everyone knows the end is near but no one wants to say it. I woke before Forbes, the memory of his arms around me still pressed into my skin like a half-remembered dream.
I lay there for a moment, watching the ceiling fan turn shadows across the plaster. The air tasted different—lighter, maybe. Or maybe it was just me.
Down the hall, I could hear the clatter of mugs and low voices. The others were already up, packing, saying their last goodbyes to sleep and to whatever the farm had been to us these past days.
Forbes stirred beside me. He opened his eyes, met mine, and neither of us said anything. We didn’t need to.
I pulled on yesterday’s clothes, the fabric still damp with humidity. Forbes did the same, both of us moving quietly, not talking about what happened in the shower, or what came after. We didn’t need to.
“Let’s get breakfast before we pack,” I said, my voice low.
He nodded, almost smiling. “Yeah. Might be the last real meal we get for a while.”
The hallway smelled like old coffee and something faintly sweet—maybe cinnamon rolls or just wishful thinking. I could hear the others already gathered around the long table in the common room, sunlight painting their faces gold and bright through the open door.
I paused at the threshold, watching Allison and Maddy debate whether powdered eggs were actually food, Casey holding a mug in both hands like he was afraid it might vanish, Jemma scrolling through photos on her phone, already archiving memories.
Forbes nudged my shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s join the living.”
We slipped into the empty seats, the heat and hush of the last day settling around us.
Dr. Howard came in just as we were finishing breakfast, his tie already askew, clipboard tucked under one arm. He thanked us for our work, his words brisk but genuine. “You’ve done the kind of fieldwork most professionals would be proud of. You should all be proud.”
He caught my eye as the group started clearing dishes. “Brett, a word?”
We stepped into the hallway, the noise of the common room fading behind us. For a moment he just studied me, as if weighing the sum of the past week in a single glance.
“I’ve reached out to Professor Yankovich at the university,” he said quietly. “Told him about your work—your instincts, especially. I think you should consider post-graduate study in the forensic applications of physical anthropology.”
My mouth went dry. “Sir?”
“You have a gift,” he said, and for the first time, his voice was gentle. “You see past the bones. Most don’t.”
“Wow,” I didn’t know what else to say.
He hesitated, then added, “I have a colleague who works out of UNC Charlotte. You’d thrive under her mentorship—and I’ve already placed a call to her. I think you’d be a good fit.”
He left me with that, turning back toward the kitchen, clipboard in hand. I just stood there, unsure what to do with the mix of pride and uncertainty pooling in my chest.
Before the quiet could settle too deep, Forbes poked his head into the hall. “Hey—food’s getting cold,” he called, voice easy. “Come eat.”
I nodded, swallowing down everything Dr. Howard had just handed me, and followed Forbes back into the warmth and noise of the group.
After breakfast, the pace of the morning slowed again. There was no rush—just the easy meander back down the hallway, Forbes at my side. The dorm felt quieter, emptier, the way places do when you know you’re leaving soon.
We packed in near silence, the rustle of clothes and the muted thump of duffel bags filling the space. I watched Forbes fold his shirts with the same precision he brought to everything else, and tried not to overthink the future, or what Dr. Howard’s words meant for what came next.
There was no ceremony to it—just the simple, familiar motions of leaving one place for another.
As I zipped the last bag, Forbes cleared his throat and reached into his duffel. He pulled out a small, leather-bound field journal, the cover worn soft around the edges—the kind of book meant to live in a pocket, not on a shelf. He pressed it into my hand, his fingers lingering just long enough to make sure I’d really take it.
“All the best anthropologists have one,” he said quietly. “Notes, sketches, questions—whatever you need to remember. You’ll fill it before you know it.”
I turned the journal over, speechless for a second. The gesture hit harder than I expected—more than any grade or recommendation ever could. I looked up, and before I could think twice, leaned in and kissed him—quick, but certain. The kind of kiss that meant thank you, and something more.
Forbes smiled, his hand still resting over mine.
“You’re going to do good work, Brett.”
The words caught me off guard. Suddenly I was fighting to keep my composure. I pulled him into a tight hug, holding on longer than I meant to, then kissed him again—this time softer, grateful and a little awed.
“You sorta, kinda changed my life, I think,” I said, my voice unsteady but true.
Forbes’s arms wrapped tight around me. He smiled, eyes bright and a little wet. “You changed mine too.”
We fell into each other, the last tension between us melting away in a kiss that was anything but uncertain—a kiss that belonged to two people who finally understood what it meant to want and to be wanted in return. Forbes’s hands moved to my waist as I backed us toward the bunk, the journal still clutched in one hand. I set it aside just before he pulled me down with him, mouths pressing together again with something deeper than gratitude.
We undressed each other slowly, carefully, as if every button and zipper were a question we already knew the answer to. The air between us felt thick with everything we hadn’t said, every glance we’d traded over the past week charged and folded into this moment. His fingers brushed beneath my shirt, not rushing, just grazing over my ribs like he was learning the shape of me by touch alone.
He leaned in, kissed the edge of my jaw, then lower, dragging his lips down my neck with a kind of aching reverence. I felt his breath catch as he pressed his mouth to the center of my chest, my pulse loud and frantic beneath his tongue. My hands found the small of his back, then slid up, feeling the slow rise and fall of breath, the tension giving way to something softer, more open.
We took our time, letting each layer fall away like old skin. When his hands moved to my waistband, they paused, and he looked at me like he needed permission, even now. I answered with a kiss that left no room for doubt. We stripped each other down to nothing, to heat and hunger and bare skin under a slowly turning fan.
Forbes guided me down to the bunk, his mouth never far from mine. He kissed like he was still discovering me, like there was something sacred in every inch of skin. He pressed open-mouthed kisses down my chest, lingered just above my hip, teasing, letting the moment stretch. My fingers tangled in his hair, urging but not demanding.
Forbes and Brett have been hovering between life and death for far too long and now they’re ready to embrace life and everything that comes with it.
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