A faint smile tugged at his mouth.
“They’re where I told them to be.”
Willow snorted softly. “Those two? They’ll outlast the ridge itself.”
“And if they don’t,” Ned said, voice rough, “we’ll go get ’em.”
The comment eased something tight in his chest. He took a sip and nodded once more to the room.
“Go home. Keep your radios close. When the sky clears, we’ll pick it back up.”
The crowd dispersed slowly—voices hushed, boots heavy with snow. Ned tucked his radio under his arm and clapped Burke’s shoulder on his way out.
“You’re doin’ all you can, son.”
When the last of them had gone, only the hum of the refrigerators and the tick of the wall clock remained. Willow wiped the counter with slow, steady strokes.
“Caitlin texted earlier,” she said. “Said to tell you she’s got a pot of stew on if you’re comin’ that way.”
Burke’s tired grin flickered.
“Guess word travels faster than the storm.”
“It’s Sylva,” she said. “It always does.”
Sheriff Burke Scott—Caitlin's Cottage
By the time he left the café, Main Street was ghost-quiet, only a pair of tire tracks cutting the snow. The wipers squeaked across the windshield as Burke eased toward the edge of town. The little bluecottage waited under an oak heavy with ice, warm yellow light spilling from its windows.
Rosie barked as he stepped onto the porch. He knocked once, and the door opened before his hand even fell. Caitlin stood there in a soft sweater, hair pulled back, relief warm and clear across her face.
“Come inside—it’s brutal out there.”
Burke stepped inside, and Rosie pressed close, nose bumping at his coat pocket in search of her usual treat. He gave her a tired half-smile and rubbed her head.
“Sorry, girl. Not today.”
She huffed once and settled near the fire, tail thumping faintly against the floor.
He closed the door on the storm. The warmth and the smell of stew hit him at once, a comfort and a reminder of how long he’d been cold. He peeled off gloves and hat, setting them down as Caitlin took his coat and hung it by the door. Her fingers were warm from the stove. She rested a hand briefly against his chest—steadying both of them.
For a second, he didn’t move. Then he slipped an arm around her, pulling her in just enough that her cheek brushed his shoulder. The contact was brief—one slow breath, then another—but it was the first time in days he’d let himself lean on anyone.
“They didn’t make it off the mountain,” Burke said. “But Scout and Tessa made it to Grady’s cabin. The place is stocked. Scout’s been through worse. They’ll hold.”
Caitlin’s eyes softened.
“You’ve done everything you could, Burke. That counts.”
He huffed out a low breath.
“Doesn’t feel like enough,” he admitted. “Not when it’s one of mine out there.”
For the first time in days, some of the weight left his shoulders.
But even then, his mind edged back to Sara.
He pictured her somewhere—maybe hungry but alive—holdingon the same way Scout and Tessa were. She wasn’t out in this. But anger tightened hot in his gut.
