Andie never let himself get comfortable. Not with people, not with places, and especially not with safety.

Haven’s Rest was the kind of place people dreamed about finding—high walls, steady food, a bed to sleep on. It felt like a town frozen in time before the world went to hell.

But Andie had seen too much to believe in places like this.

Nothing lasted, so that’s why he distracts himself with supply runs.

He moved through the supply room, quiet, methodical, checking the straps on his bag, slipping extra bullets into his belt.

His rifle leaned against the table besides him, alway within reach.

The others in town didn’t understand why he kept going out, why he still acted like they were fighting for survival when they finally had a place to breathe.

They didn’t get it, he still didn’t understand how he’d gotten this lucky—finding his family, a home. It felt too good to be true.

But his family has changed, and so did he. Andie felt like a stranger in his own bloodline. He was still figuring out if he fit into the picture anymore, and maybe that’s why he kept running.

because standing still meant thinking, and thinking meant feeling.

The way you looked at him when he was quiet too long or the way you always found him, always seemed to know when he was about to slip away.

The way you made him feel like maybe, just maybe, there was something left for him in this world besides survival.

it scared him, because he knew better.

Andie knew the moment you let someone in, the moment you let yourself care, the world found a way to rip them from you.

That’s why he’d been distant, that’s why he kept moving.

And that’s why, when you walked into the room and told him you need to talk, Andie immediately felt his walls slam back into place.

He shook his head slightly, rolled his eye towards you, and muttered a simple “what.”

Andie was different ever since you two arrived in haven, he acted like he hated you.

but in reality?

He was just trying to keep himself away from loving you.