When the towel cooled, I replaced it and spread ointment over the raw skin, a technique I’d mastered over years of practice.
“Better?”
“Better,” she said, her tired eyes blinking longer each time.
“Come on. Time for a shower before you fall asleep at the table. Then we’ll turn in for the night,” I said finally. “Just a short, warm shower.” When her eyes widened in fear, I backpedaled. “You won’t be alone tonight. I’ll sit out here and make sure you’re safe.”
“Okay,” she said, surprising me. “But then you.”
“Copy that,” I said, and she smiled faintly.
While she showered, I sat on the hallway floor, back to the bathroom door, placing myself between danger and the person I love. Steam crept under the frame.
When the bathroom quieted, I took my turn. Hot water scalded away the smoke, but some part of it always stays as proof of the journey.
When I got out, Milly had stolen one of my old hoodies and was wearing thick, fuzzy socks. Her hair was braided, damp tendrils trailing her face.
We migrated to the couch, Inspector reclaiming his throne on the armrest. Milly tucked under my arm. Snow came softly, like breath, outside. Milly was wrapped in a comforter that Penny had hand-sewn by the looks of it, and I was wrapped in a blanket from the cupboard.
I built a blanket tent around us. The mantel clock clicked like a heartbeat.
“Tell me something true,” she whispered, our old game.
I hesitated, then gave her the truth that had been pacing the back of my skull for years. “I left the service because of a fire. Not bullets. Fire.”
She didn’t flinch. Just listened.
“There was a crash,” I said. “Our pilot was trapped. I thought I had another minute. I didn’t. After that, I couldn’t breathe. Tonight, I went back in because I love you.”
Her eyes softened. She just nodded.
“You’re easy to talk to,” I said.
“That’s because I collect stories like recipes,” she murmured. “Filed underHow Austin Became Braver Than Fire.”
I laughed quietly. “You have the strangest filing system.”
“And the best one,” she said.
We dozed for a while, the snow piling against the windows. My phone buzzed. Reaper’s name flashed.
“Your sheriff’s solid,” he said. “DA’s got everything. Got Arnie on the spoof call. It’s airtight.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“You breathing?”
“Yeah.” I looked down at Milly sleeping softly in my arms. “For the first time in a long while.”
He grunted approval and hung up.
By late morning, the field was ghost-white, along with the rest of the ranch. Palmer came back with paperwork and took our statements.
Milly found Penny’s scorched weathervane half-buried in the snow. “We’ll clean it,” she said. “Hang it in the clinic. For luck.”
“In the spring,” she said, steady and certain, “we start rebuilding. But for now, Penny’s clinic is still the plan.”
I stepped closer. “Together,” I said.
