“Souvenir,” she said, aiming for lightness.
His thumb skimmed just below the bandage, along the edge of a bruise. From this angle, her mouth was right there—too close. His hand shifted, the pad of his thumb hovering for a second near her bottom lip before he caught himself.
She drew in a breath. She didn’t move away.
He drew back a fraction, and made his touch careful again, businesslike. “Sorry.”
He let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh and taped a small bandage in place. “There. You’re good.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Scout pushed to his feet, closed the kit, and reached for the cards again like nothing had happened.
“We were at no mercy, remember?” he said, forcing a little grin.
Tessa curled her fingers around the new hand he dealt her. “Good,” she said. “I’d hate for you to start going easy on me now.”
The matchsticks dwindled. Tessa managed a narrow win, rocking back with a self-satisfied smile. “You’re on dish duty.”
Scout laughed, stacking empty mugs. “Wouldn’t dare break Scout’s rules.”
They rocked in companionable silence as the wind clawed at the shutters.
Evening at the Grady Cabin
“I saw you hobbling around this morning after sleeping in that chair,” she said. “We’re sharing the bed tonight. I mean, we’re adults. We can handle it, right?”
Scout’s mouth quirked. “I’ve survived worse.” But his eyes, when he met hers, were grateful.
They got ready in their own quiet ways. When they climbed in, the covers still folded down, a strange formality hung in the air. For a while, they lay side by side, inches apart, until Tessa made a show of shivering.
“I have to have cover to sleep. It’s non-negotiable.”
“Fine, you win.” Scout tugged the old quilt up over them, tucking them into warmth. Lying so close, he caught the faint scent of her shampoo—something herbal and light. His heart wouldn’t settle, mind tumbling over every small detail of her beside him.
They tried to sleep, both stretched out on the narrow bed with a gulf of anxious silence between them. The storm rattled the oldwindows, flung handfuls of sleet against the tin roof. In that deep, nervous quiet, every snap and creak made them tense.
Minutes dragged. Muscles ached from holding still. Little by little, the exhaustion of the past days pressed heavier than the fear. Their breathing slowed. The storm faded to background noise.
Sleep finally came.
The crack ripped through the cabin.
They were on their feet in the same breath. Pistols. Flashlight. Firelight flickering.
Window sweep. Snow. Wind.
A maple limb sprawled across the drift below.
They held position another second.
Listening.
When it became clear nothing else was coming, relief hit hard.
Tessa’s breath broke into a laugh — sharp, almost wild. Her hand trembled around the flashlight.
Scout turned toward her.
Hair loose. Temple bandaged. Cheeks flushed. Eyes bright with adrenaline and leftover fear.
