George eased up behind Nina, his arms wrapped around her. He dropped his chin down on her shoulder, as he watched their little one climb. He couldn't believe his luck, still. All else, and she was back. She was his. Nina and Eve. Back in their little holiday house.
"You can change in the basement. The locks are still on the door. I'll find some place." He didn't want her going out if it wasn't safe. He'd lost her once, and that was more than enough for him. So far the island liked him, it seemed. Or liked to keep him, anyway. He and Mitchell. They didn't make trips home, like so many of the others they got to watch as people came and went in the blink of an eye.
But he didn't want to think about that just then. No. George wanted to be happy that the fog hadn't reached the park yet. That he couldn't hear the voices the others were complaining about. And that the prickles against his skin were something he could ignore for now.