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On the third row from the left of the house, just as I start to squeegee the glass, I notice the frame of the window is cracked and the wood has separated. I tug at a splintered shard, and the whole of the ledge pulls away.
“We have a problem over here, man,” I say.
Keller’s eyes come to me. “What is it?”
“The wood is dry-rotted, and this ledge is crumbling in my hand. The window will start leaking, if it hasn’t already.”
“Drop it. I’ll go see if I have some wood and stain on the truck that will work until I can get back out here and replace it,” he says.
I take the handle of the squeegee and start banging the wood, which turns to dust as I pound it loose.
I bend to drop the fragments at the base of the ladder, and when I look back up, I hear an ear-piercing scream.
My eyes meet a pair of deep brown orbs just before the glass shatters around me, and I release a string of curse words.
One minute, I’m scrambling to grab hold of anything to stabilize myself while shards fly at my face, and the next moment, the side of my head feels like it’s been hit by a bullet, and pain radiates down my cheek.
Then, it’s lights out.
Hannah
Ifinish my bath and get out of the tub, feeling incredibly relaxed. I quickly dry off with the festive towel hanging beside the tub, then wrap my long brown hair with it and twist it on top of my head. I smooth on a dollop of the lip balm and then use the provided lotion on my legs and arms.
I walk out into the room in search of my bag to fetch my hair dryer and stop to grab the robe on the bed when I hear pounding on the window.
I turn abruptly and see a man staring back at me. He has a weapon of some sort in his hand, and he raises it.
Oh my God, he’s trying to break in.
In a moment of sheer panic, I grab the closest thing to me and hurl it toward the window as I scream for help. Then, I watch in slow motion as the brass lamp crashes through the window.
The sound of glass shattering mingles with my scream when I see the man looking me in the eye before falling backward.
I sprint to the windowsill. Shards of glass embed in the soft pads of my feet, and I look down at the stranger lying motionless in the snow.
My heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest as I watch another man rush to him.
Keller?
Before I can call down to him, Willa and Aunt Trixie come barreling through the door of my room.
They take me in, standing naked, breathless, and pointing toward the shattered window.
“Are you all right?” Aunt Trixie asks as she hurries to my side.
I shake my head. “Someone’s out there. They were attempting to break the window,” I manage to stutter.
“Oh no,” Willa gasps.
She runs over and looks through the large hole in the window.
“Bran,” she yells, and then she turns and sprints out of the room.
The panic in her voice snaps me out of mine.
“What’s a bran?” I ask Aunt Trixie as she wraps me in the robe.
“It’s Keller’s friend. They were hanging wreaths outside.”
