“I thought you’d never ask.”
She carefully makes her way down the icy steps before crouching beside the open toolbox.
“There are far too many silver things in here.”
“They all have names.”
“They all look the same to me.”
“They absolutely do not.”
She holds up the first one she grabs.
“This?”
“No.”
“What about this one?”
I sigh dramatically. “Ghost.”
“What.”
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
Her grin grows wider.
“I might be.”
I shake my head, rising to my feet before removing the screwdriver from her hand and tossing it onto the ground beside the trench. I gaze down at her, one hand cradles the mug, the other now rests gently against my chest. The need to follow her inside is almost compelling. Not because I’m finished out here, but because she’s in there.
“Go inside,” I murmur. “It’s freezing out here.”
She smiles, one that lights up her whole face.
“I’m used to it.”
“You shouldn’t have to be.”
The distant crunch of tires rolling over frozen gravel tears through the silence of the forest. Every muscle in my body locks. The smile slips from her face and her fingers are moving, gripping tightly to my wrist, her eyes searching mine as the color slowly drains from her face. Worry settles there first. Then uncertainty. She doesn’t know what could be coming for her. For us, only that someone is.
“It’s okay,” I say quietly, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the pulse hammering in mychest. I cup her cheek, my thumb gently brushing the side of her face. ‘Don’t be afraid.”
“Raven...”
“Shh…” I hold her gaze until I feel her breathing begin to steady. “I’ve got you.”
My mind is already ten steps ahead. There are only a handful of people who know this road exists. Fewer still who’d come without calling first. Whoever is behind that wheel could be family. Or they could be someone sent to make sure the fucking job was finished, though I say none of this to the terrified woman in my arms.
If they see her. If they recognize her… The lie we've been living dies here.
“Listen to me.” My hands settle on either side of her face, making sure she hears every word. “Go inside. Stay away from the windows. Don’t answer the door unless it’s me.”
She swallows. “What if?—”
“There is no what if.” My voice is calm, but firm enough to stop the question before it takes root in her mind. “If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide. You hide. Okay?”
Her wide, worried eyes linger on mine for one long heartbeat before she nods.
