Inside the cabin, Caiden set me on the old plaid couch, wrapping a wool blanket around my shoulders. He pushed my hair out of my eyes.
I saw Dante behind him, hovering near the kitchen, his jaw working side to side, hands pressed white-knuckled to the counter.
“Do you want tea?” Dante asked, his voice tight, already putting a kettle on the stove. “Blanket’s not enough, you need something hot.”
“She doesn’t want tea, she just needs to lie down,” Caiden shot back, louder than the small space required. He pulled my knees up and tucked the blanket in around my feet, then crouched in front of the couch so our faces were level. “You good? You breathing regular?”
I nodded, but the shiver wouldn’t stop. There was a rawness building at the back of my throat, the tears close, but I clenched my jaw and willed them in place. “I’m okay. It just… surprised me. I’m sorry. If I had stayed calm, I would’ve been okay.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Dante said, coming over with a mug already steaming. “You don’t have to drink it, just hold it. Warm your hands.”
Caiden glared at the mug as if it were some kind of insult. I watched the way his hands hovered, torn between snatching it away and letting Dante do what he wanted.
Finally, he pulled back and let Dante kneel next to me, their arms nearly touching as they both hovered at my sides.
I hated the way it made me feel, like a doll being fought over by two kids who wanted to prove who cared most.
But I also loved it, a little. The attention, the shared panic, the fact that for once I was being cared for, and I felt as if I mattered.
“Amelia, you’re freezing. You need to change,” Dante said, shooting a look at Caiden that was pure challenge.
“Fine,” Caiden snarled, like a wolf defending a carcass. “She’ll change. We don’t need a fucking doctor’s note.”
He peeled the blanket back and helped me up, his hands under my arms, far gentler than his words. My legs wobbled, and I sagged against him, the sodden denim of my jeans clinging to his bare forearms. He led me to the hallway and pointed at the bathroom. “You go. I’ll find you something dry.”
When I closed the door, I could hear them through the paper-thin wall, voices muffled but urgent.
“What’s your problem, man?” Dante hissed.
“My problem is you showing up and acting like you know what’s best,” Caiden spat back.
“Really, Caiden? If you’ve forgotten, I was the one who was there for her all those years ago. You were the one who terrified her on a daily basis. If there’s anybody she trusts, it would be me.”
Caiden made a defensive noise. “Things have changed. I don’t treat her like that anymore. She does trust me.”
I imagined Dante shaking his head the way he does. “Maybe you’re not so different, man. Sure, I’ve seen that you act nicer towards her, but there’s still that rage hidden beneath your softness. I just hope that dormant anger doesn’t explode onto her.”
I didn’t bother listening to the rest of the conversation. I tore my clothes off and turned on the shower water, twisting the knob to the hottest setting.
It was a time machine, the way the water burned red into my skin, the way I sat on the tile with my knees pulled to my chest, steam ghosting off my arms.
I let it scald the cold from my bones. The heat pulled the fear out of my skin, each droplet sliding down my body like a shedding.
I scrubbed at my arms, at my chest, at the hollow behind my knees until I was pink and raw, until the shivering stilled and my breath came steady again.
The sounds of the boys bickering outside shrank to a dull, wet buzz. I wanted to stay in here forever, but eventually the water went lukewarm, and I had to face the world again.
A soft knock, too careful to be Caiden’s, tapped the door. “Amelia? I left some dry clothes for you outside the door.”
Dante’s voice, gentle, unforced. I clutched the towel around me and opened the door a crack.
On the floor: black leggings pulled from my luggage, a huge blue hoodie, and thick wool socks. Probably his. I pulled them on, the sleeves flopping past my hands. It was a comfort, more than I’d admit aloud.
I stepped back into the hallway, hair dripping down my neck, and found both of them waiting. Caiden on the couch. Dante in the kitchen, retying the laces of his boots with measured precision. Neither looked at me directly at first.
I cleared my throat, not sure who I was apologizing to. “Sorry I ruined the canoe trip.”
Dante looked up, all easy warmth. “You didn’t ruin anything. I should’ve known better than to take us that far out.”
