Chapter 464: Carmen’s Guilt

By the time I reached Carmen’s house, the sun had already disappeared behind the Boardwalk.

The streets were darker now, lit only by scattered lamps, flashlights, and the faint glow coming from the buildings people were still using. The work around the settlement had slowed down, but it had not completely stopped. A few people remained near the barricades. Others carried supplies back toward the Emerald Hotel before the night watch fully took over.

Carmen’s house looked different from the last time I had been here.

Not completely repaired.

Not even close.

The Screamer attack had left too much damage behind for that.

The front windows had been broken. Part of the fence around the garden had collapsed. There were deep scratches across the outside walls from when Infected had thrown themselves against the building, and the ground near the entrance still showed marks where people had fought to keep them out.

But it was standing.

That was something.

Yesterday, I had helped them along a few others to reclaim the house and block the open entrances. We had boarded up the broken windows, reinforced the front door, and placed furniture near the weaker parts of the ground floor. It was not perfect, but it was safer than leaving the place open and abandoned.

Carmen and Shannon had a home again.

At least for now.

I stood outside the door for a moment.

My hand hovered near it.

Then I hesitated.

I did not know what I was supposed to say.

Sorry that things are awkward?

Sorry that I saved your life in a way neither of us expected?

Sorry that now you needed to rely on me again to keep Dullahan’s energy stable inside you?

None of it sounded right.

In the end, I forced myself to knock.

There was movement inside.

Then the door opened.

Carmen stood there.

For a second, neither of us said anything.

She had changed into cleaner clothes since the Screamer attack, though she still looked tired. Her hair was tied back, and there was a faint shadow beneath her eyes that made it obvious she had not been sleeping well.

Her gaze met mine.

Then it immediately dropped.

"Ryan," she said.

"Hey."

The greeting came out awkwardly.

Carmen stepped aside.

"Come in."

I nodded and walked inside.

The living room had been cleaned as much as possible, but I could still see the damage. One side of the room had been rearranged to cover a broken window. The furniture was not where it used to be. There were fresh boards along the walls and a pile of supplies near the staircase.

Still, the house smelled different from the ruined streets outside.

It smelled like food.

Real food.

Something warm.

My stomach immediately reminded me that I had spent all day working and barely eaten anything other than whatever I could grab between carrying pipes and helping with the barricades.

Shannon came rushing from the small dining area.

"Ryan!"

"Hey," I said, smiling despite myself.

She looked much happier than she had earlier.

"I told Mom you would come."

"I said I would."

"Yeah, but people say things all the time and then don’t come."

"That sounds oddly specific."

Shannon crossed her arms.

"It happens."

Carmen gave her a small look.

"Shannon."

"What? It’s true."

I let out a quiet laugh.

Carmen looked toward the table.

"I made dinner," she said. "It’s not much, but..."

She trailed off.

"It smells good," I told her honestly.

Carmen looked at me briefly.

A small smile touched her lips.

"Thank you."

We moved toward the table.

It had been set for three people.

There was a pot of food in the middle, a few bowls, spoons, and cups of water. Carmen had somehow put together vegetables, rice, and a little meat from the supplies people had brought in. It was simple, but after the past few days, it looked better than anything I could have imagined.

I sat down across from Shannon.

Carmen took the seat beside her.

For the first few seconds, I did not know what to say.

Then I looked toward the empty places around the table.

"Summer and Maribel didn’t come?"

Carmen looked up at me.

"No," she said. "Summer was busy helping with the night watch preparations."

"Oh."

"And Maribel..."

She paused slightly.

"She said she had something else to do."

I nodded.

Something else to do.

Maybe that was true.

Or maybe Maribel had refused because she wanted to leave Carmen and me alone.

I would not have blamed her.

She had already spoken with Carmen about the stabilization. She knew the situation was uncomfortable. Maybe she thought Carmen and I needed to talk privately. Or maybe she simply did not want to sit through an awkward dinner where everyone pretended not to know why things felt strange.

I did not know.

And I was not about to ask Carmen.

Shannon, thankfully, did not seem to notice the tension.

She immediately started talking once we began eating.

Margaret had taught her something about the garden. One of the younger kids near the hotel had said something stupid that made her laugh. Someone had nearly dropped a crate of supplies on Rico’s broken arm, and Rico had apparently yelled loud enough for half the Boardwalk to hear.

"He said he wasn’t scared," Shannon explained while trying not to laugh, "but then he looked like he was going to cry."

"I doubt Rico would appreciate you spreading that around," I said.

"He won’t know."

"He always knows," Carmen said.

"That’s true," I admitted.

Shannon continued telling us everything she had seen during the day.

She spoke about the people rebuilding the fences, the new guards near the roads, and how Margaret had promised that the garden would eventually give them enough vegetables that they would not have to eat fish constantly.

"That’s the best news I heard all day," Shannon said.

Carmen laughed.

"You hated vegetables before."

"Before, vegetables were boring. Now fish is boring."

"That makes sense," I said.

Shannon nodded like I had said something extremely wise.

The strange tension remained around the table, but Shannon filled most of the silence without noticing. Every time the conversation threatened to fade, she would bring up something else.

For that, I was grateful.

And the food really was good.

I took another bite before looking toward Carmen.

"This is really good," I said. "Seriously."

Carmen’s hands paused around her spoon.

She looked up, meeting my eyes for only a brief second.

"Thanks," she said softly.

For a while, the three of us just ate.

Outside, the night settled over the Boardwalk.

The distant sound of people working had mostly stopped now. In its place came quieter sounds: guards calling to one another, wind moving through the damaged fences, the ocean somewhere beyond the buildings.

Eventually, our bowls were empty.

Shannon leaned back in her chair, looking satisfied.

"That was good," she said.

"Thank you," Carmen replied.

I stood up and started gathering some of the bowls.

"Let me help wash these."

Carmen rose too quickly.

"It’s fine."

Her voice came out stiff.

I stopped.

Carmen seemed to realize it immediately. She looked down at the dishes in my hands, then away.

"I mean," she said more quietly, "you worked all day. You should rest."

"I’m fine."

"You’re injured."

"I can still wash a bowl."

For a moment, she looked as though she wanted to argue.

Then she took a breath.

"No. It’s okay."

The awkwardness returned so suddenly that even Shannon noticed.

She looked between us.

Then she stood up as well.

"I wanted to talk with Ryan," she said.

Carmen looked toward her.

"Shannon, go upstairs and get ready to sleep."

"But—"

"I need to speak with Ryan for a moment."

Shannon frowned.

"Now?"

"Yes."

"I can stay quiet."

"Shannon."

Carmen’s tone was gentle, but firm.

Shannon looked disappointed.

She glanced at me as though hoping I would save her from going upstairs.

I gave her an apologetic smile.

"Tomorrow?" I said.

Shannon sighed.

"Fine."

She pointed at me before turning toward the staircase.

"But you have to come earlier next time."

"Okay."

"And don’t say you’re busy."

"I won’t."

"That’s what you said before."

I watched her climb the stairs, listening until the door to her room closed.

Then the house became quiet.

Too quiet.

Carmen gathered the dishes and walked toward the small back door leading into the garden.

I followed.

Outside, the air was cooler.

The garden had been damaged during the Screamer attack, but some of the plants had survived. A few boards had been placed around the area to make it safer, and there was a bucket of water beside a small table where Carmen began washing the dishes.

She dipped a cloth into the bucket and started cleaning one of the bowls.

I stood a few steps away.

For a moment, I did not know what to say.

Then I asked the question that had been stuck in my head since I arrived.

"Do you hate me?"

Carmen froze.

She immediately looked toward me.

"No."

The answer came too quickly to be fake.

"No," she repeated, softer this time. "I don’t hate you, Ryan."

"Then why does it feel like you can barely look at me?"

Carmen lowered her eyes.

The cloth moved slowly against the bowl in her hands.

"I just feel like I did something wrong."

"You didn’t."

Carmen stayed quiet.

"I was the one who offered to cure you," I continued. "You were dying. You didn’t force me to do anything."

"But I accepted," Carmen said.

Her voice trembled slightly.

"I shouldn’t have accepted it like that."

"You saved your life."

"I know."

"And you saved Shannon from losing her mother."

Carmen bit her lower lip.

Her hands tightened around the bowl.

"Anyone would have done it," I said.

But Carmen did not answer.

The silence lasted long enough that I knew there was more.

I took a small step closer.

"Is there something else?"

Carmen’s shoulders tensed.

For a moment, I thought she would refuse to speak.

Then she placed the bowl down carefully and kept her eyes fixed on the water in the bucket.

"During that night," she said quietly, "I didn’t feel like myself."

I stayed silent.

Carmen swallowed.

"I was terrified. I thought I was going to die. I thought Shannon would be alone. And then you told me you could save me."

Her voice broke slightly at the end.

"I was desperate."

I understood what she was trying to say.

Not every part of that night had been a clear decision made in calm circumstances. She had been afraid, injured, infected, and overwhelmed. Relief, fear, shame, and the instinct to survive had all crashed together.

Carmen continued in a smaller voice.

"And afterward... I felt ashamed. I felt like I had let myself lose control."

I looked at her for a moment.

Then I spoke carefully.

"Carmen, you were scared. You were hurt. You were trying to survive."

She looked toward me.

"You don’t need to punish yourself for that."

"But—"

"And you don’t owe me anything because I saved you."

The words came out firmer than I expected.

Carmen went still.

I took another breath.

"If we need to talk about stabilization, we’ll talk about it. If you need help, I’ll help. But nothing happens unless you actually want it to happen and feel okay with it."

Carmen stared at me.

The tension in her face did not disappear completely.

But something in her expression loosened.

"You mean that?" she asked.

"Of course I do."

She looked down again.

The night wind moved softly through the damaged garden fence.

"I don’t know if I can feel okay about any of this," Carmen admitted.

"You don’t have to figure everything out tonight."

For a while, she said nothing.

Then she nodded once.

A small movement.

But it was enough.

I reached toward the bowl she had set aside.

"Let me help with the dishes," I said.

Carmen hesitated.

Then, this time, she did not refuse.

She handed me the cloth.

And under the dim light from the house, with the Boardwalk still rebuilding around us, we stood side by side and quietly washed the dishes together.