Ethan shakes his head. “You’re not going anywhere until you finish your soup. You need your strength.” His hands close around my forearms instantly, steadying me. His touch is warm and solid and safe. “If that drive is out there, we’ll get it. But you’re not helping anyone if you collapse halfway to the door.”
“I’m not staying here while that proof is out there.” My voice cracks. “If someone else finds it first?—”
“No one’s been near the car,” he assures me. “We’re remote.”
That’s true. I remember trees. The towering mountains. The sharp skid of tires, then nothing.
Daniel mops up the last of his soup with a hunk of bread. “I’ll get the truck ready. Then you go together.”
Together.That’s… new.
Daniel disappears out the back door, with Delaney on his heels.
“I’ll get the guest room ready,” Miss Maggie says, patting my shoulder reassuringly as she moves past us into the hall.
Jacob stands and leaves with a wordless nod, leaving Ethan and me alone.
I push my glasses up, forcing myself to breathe, and pick up the spoon again. The soup is lukewarm, but I manage another mouthful.
Ethan pulls up a chair beside me, and I’m aware of every molecule of air between his body and mine.
His sleeves are rolled up, revealing tan, corded forearms marked by a thin silver scar across the left one. His hands rest on the table, fingers curled loosely. My spine is still conducting the heat of those hands on my forearms a few minutes ago.
Ethan lifts his hand, and I shiver as he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.
“Jenna.” He says my name, followed by that familiar pause, the way he always does it on the phone. Name first, then the important thing. His mouth quirks with a wry grin as his knuckles brush my cheek, electrifying all the tiny hairs. “Meeting you in real life wasn’t how I pictured it.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“I’ve been waiting for this moment since our second phone call.”
Our gazes collide, and I instinctively lean toward him like a flower reaching for the sun.
His nose brushes mine, his warm breath fanning over my lips. “Jenna, I?—”
The back door crashes open, shattering the moment like glass on tile.
Hooves clatter on the linoleum, and a tan and white goat bursts into the kitchen. It heads straight for the table and places its front hooves on my chair, stretching its neck toward my plate.
Maggie’s firm voice echoes from the hallway. “DORITO. Out. NOW.”
The goat ignores her and devours my remaining toast.
I’m still breathing hard, my hand pressed against my chest. My skin is flushed from collarbone to forehead. What was Ethan about to say? Was he going to kiss me? Did I want him to?
Yes. God, yes, I did. I still do.
But a goat named Dorito ate the moment along with my toast.
