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Maybe there was more to him than I’d given him credit for.

Or maybe I’d always known it was there, buried under the charm and the chaos, and I’d just been too busy managing his life to really see it.

I pulled the comforter up to my chin and closed my eyes. I heard a howl. Wolf? Wait, Bernadette didn’t mention wolves, but something was making a fuss out there.

But in here, I was warm. Safe.

The last thing I thought of before sleep claimed me was the memory of Jeremy’s hand on my back and how damn good it felt.

10

JEREMY

Iwoke up before my alarm, which almost never happened. Usually I needed Lucy banging on my door or my phone blaring at maximum volume to drag me out of unconsciousness. But this morning, my eyes just opened. No grogginess. No desperate need for five more minutes.

I lay there for a second, staring at the wooden beams of the cabin ceiling, trying to figure out what was different. The bed was comfortable, sure, but I’d slept in comfortable beds all over the world. The room was quiet, but silence wasn’t exactly new to me.

Then it hit me. The air. Even inside the cabin, there was something cleaner about it. Crisper. Like my lungs were actually working properly for the first time in months. No smog. No exhaust. No whatever the hell was floating around in LA’s atmosphere.

I threw off the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The floor was warm under my feet, that radiant heating doing its job. Through the window, I could see the first hints of dawn.

When was the last time I’d been awake for sunrise? I couldn’t remember. I was usually in bed just before dawn.

I pulled on running gear. Thermal leggings, a moisture-wicking base layer, the fleece-lined jacket Lucy had insisted I buy. I laced up my sneakers and stepped outside.

The cold was brutal. Immediate. It slapped me awake in a way coffee never could. But instead of retreating back inside, I started moving. Jogging in place at first, getting my blood flowing, then setting off down one of the cleared paths around the lodge.

The staff had done an incredible job with the walkways. Everything was shoveled and salted, safe enough to run on without worrying about slipping. I fell into a rhythm, my breath fogging the air in front of me, my muscles slowly warming despite the temperature. When I was on location, I usually had to rely on treadmills. Nothing beat a run in nature.

It felt good. The burn in my legs and the steady pump of my heart. I loved the way the world seemed to sharpen as my body woke up. I’d been slacking on my workouts lately, relying on genetics and metabolism to keep me camera ready. But there was something satisfying about actually working for it.

I ran past the main lodge and the cluster of crew cabins. I kept running toward the edge of the property where the cleared paths gave way to untouched snow. The frozen lake stretched out to my left. I was hyper-aware of my surroundings.

My thoughts drifted to Lucy.

Last night had been rough for her. Every new animal on the list had formed another knot of tension in her back. The cold added to her stress.

I got it. I really did. She wasn’t being dramatic. For someone who’d had a traumatic experience with cold and snow as a kid, this place probably felt like walking into a nightmare. And then to find out there were bears and moose and whatever the hell else lurking in the wilderness? No wonder she’d been clutching that bear spray like a life preserver.

I wanted her to see what I saw. The beauty of this place. The peace of it. Our lives were nonstop. We were always on the move and surrounded by people and technology. Life was so loud.

But here, I heard the quiet. I felt the stillness. My soul was actually singing.

She deserved to enjoy this, not just survive it.

I finished my loop around the property and headed toward the main lodge, sweat on my skin despite the layers. The dining hall was mostly empty this early, just a few crew members nursing coffees and picking at breakfast plates. I grabbed two cups from the coffee station and doctored them up. Black with two sugars for me. Oat milk, one sugar, dash of cinnamon for Lucy.

I’d watched her make her coffee enough times to know the formula by heart. I walked to her cabin and knocked on the door.

The door swung open.

Lucy stood there wrapped in her massive navy parka, zipped all the way up despite being inside a heated cabin. In her right hand, she clutched the bear spray canister like she was ready to unload it at the first sign of trouble.

I burst out laughing.

“I come in peace,” I said, holding up the coffee cups. “No bears here. Just caffeine.”

She frowned. “You’re up early. I wasn’t sure who would be knocking.”