Chapter 1
Lana Mills
I woke to the sound of Ella’s dog, Scout’s, nails clicking across the hardwood floor, followed by a soft whine at the bedroom door. I cracked one eye open to check the time: 6:17 AM. Of course.
“Your timing is impeccable, buddy,” I muttered, throwing back the covers.
His tail thumped against the door frame, his expression somehow both apologetic and insistent. I couldn’t blame him— his humans were in another province. One, being kidnapped, and the other, out to get her back. This wasn’t his normal routine, and he was handling the disruption better than most humans would.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” I said, pulling on Ella’s borrowed robe. It was a little short on me, the sleeves barely reaching my wrists, but it was better than parading around in just my sleep shirt and shorts.
Caleb was still asleep on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I tiptoed past him, Scout following closely at my heels, clearly trying to be quiet but still managing to jingle his collar with every step.
Once outside, I hugged myself against the morning chill. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the snow-covered landscape in shades of pink and gold. Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the beauty of it all, but my thoughts kept drifting to Ella, Nora, and the others. What was happening in Ontario? Had they found Nora yet? Were they all safe?
Scout finished his business quickly, then bounded through the snow, seeming to delight in the fresh powder. At least someone was enjoying themselves.
“Don’t go far,” I called softly.
The dog gave me a look that seemed to say, “I’m not stupid,” before continuing his exploration of the yard, nose buried in the snow, tracking some invisible scent.
Back inside, I started the coffee maker, grateful that Ella had shown me how to work it before they left. The familiar gurgling sound was oddly comforting in the quiet house.
“Morning,” Caleb’s sleep-roughened voice came from behind me. “He woke you up, too?”
I turned to find him sitting up on the couch, hair mussed from sleep, stubble darkening his jaw. Even half-awake and rumpled, he managed to look unreasonably attractive.
“Yeah, apparently his bladder operates on a strict schedule,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Coffee?”
“God, yes,” he replied, stretching his arms above his head. The movement caused his t-shirt to ride up, revealing a strip of toned stomach that I would never admit I’d noticed.
I quickly turned and busied myself with mugs and cream, trying not to think about how domestic this all felt. Caleb and I were sharing a quiet morning in what was essentially ourtemporary home. Scout was scratching at the door, and I hurried to let him in before I poured the coffee. It was all so... normal, the kind of normal I’d never really had.
“Any word from them?” Caleb asked, hobbling over on his crutches to accept the mug I handed him.
I shook my head. “Nothing. How’s your leg feeling?”
Blowing on his coffee, he said, “Hurts like a bitc… it hurts.”
I laughed as he took a sip of the brew.
“You know, it’s alright if you swear around me.”
“Probably better that I don’t. I’ve been told my vocabulary gets colorful when I’m in pain.” He grimaced as he shifted his weight.
I rummaged through Ella’s refrigerator, pulling out eggs and some leftover ham. “How about breakfast? I make a decent omelet.”
“You don’t have to cook for me,” he protested, as his stomach growled at the mention of food.
“Consider it payment for staying here with me,” I said, cracking eggs into a bowl. “Besides, you need to keepyour strength up while recovering from that gunshot wound.”
His hand instinctively moved to his thigh. “It’s just a graze.”
“You were shot, Caleb. That’s not something you just walk off.” I whisked the eggs with more force than necessary. “Speaking of which, I need to walk over to Jake’s place and feed his animals.”
Caleb straightened immediately. “I’ll come with you.”
“Absolutely not, you haven’t even been out of the hospital for a week. You need to stay here with your leg propped up.” Ipointed the whisk at him for emphasis, sending tiny droplets of egg flying. “Doctor’s orders, remember?”
