I wrap her leg carefully, then help her out of her wet coat. She is shivering. I pull a thick blanket from the chest and wrap it around her.
“Stay here,” I say. “I will make some soup. You need to eat and get warm. I’ll call Eli to look at your leg in a bit.”
She nods, pulling the blanket tighter. I move to the kitchen and start heating broth. While it warms, I watch her. She’s looking around the cabin, taking in the simple furniture, the books on the shelf, the rifle rack by the door. Her eyes keep coming back to me.
“Thank you,” she says quietly when I bring her the soup. “For not leaving me out there.”
I sit across from her. “You’re welcome.”
She eats slowly, like her body is still deciding whether it is safe to trust food. Between bites she asks questions. Small ones. Where exactly are we? How many people live here? What do they do? I answer what I can without giving too much away. She’s still a stranger. A stranger with trouble on her heels.
After she finishes eating, she leans back against the couch, eyes heavy. “I’m looking for my brother. He went missing two weeks ago. I think the same people who are after me have him.”
I nod. “We can talk about that tomorrow. You need rest right now.”
She doesn’t argue. I help her to the bedroom. There’s only one bed. I’ll take the couch. She climbs in slowly, wincing. I pull the covers up around her and turn to leave.
“Wait,” she says softly.
I pause in the doorway. “Yeah?”
“Thank you. Really.”
I nod once. “Sleep, Junie. You’re safe here.”
I close the door behind me and settle on the couch. The fire pops softly. Outside, the wind moves through the trees. I stare at the ceiling, mind running through everything I saw today. The tracks. The blood. The fear in her eyes.
Trouble found me again.
But this time it came in the form of a stubborn, injured woman with big eyes and a story I’m not sure I’m ready to hear.
I close my eyes, but sleep doesn’t come easy. I keep thinking about her in my bed. About the way she looked at me when Icarried her. About the way my chest tightened when she said thank you.
This is going to be complicated.
I already know it.
And I’m not sure I mind.
TWO
JUNIE
I wake up to the smell of coffee and woodsmoke, my body heavy and aching in ways I’ve never felt before. For a moment I don’t know where I am. The bed beneath me is soft and warm, nothing like the cheap motel mattresses I’ve been sleeping on for the last few weeks. I blink slowly, trying to piece together the fragments of memory. The snow. The blood. The man who carried me through the storm like I weighed nothing.
Wyatt.
I sit up too fast and wince as pain shoots through my left leg. The room spins for a second before settling. I’m in a small, neat bedroom with wooden walls and a stone fireplace that’s still glowing with low embers. My clothes are gone, replaced by a large flannel shirt that smells like pine and clean soap. My leg’s bandaged tightly from the knee down. I touch it gingerly and remember the sharp pain when I tripped in the snow.
The door opens quietly. Wyatt steps in carrying a mug of something steaming. He looks even bigger in the daylight, tall and broad with dark hair and sharp eyes that seem to see everything. He stops when he sees me awake.
“You’re up,” he says, voice low and even. “How are you feeling?”
I pull the blanket higher around my waist, suddenly aware of how exposed I feel. “Sore. Confused. Where am I exactly?”
“Haven 7. My cabin. You’re safe here.”
Safe. That word again. I want to believe it, but trust doesn’t come easy for a girl like me. Not after everything that’s happened with my brother. Not after the men who have been chasing me for weeks.
