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“I’ve been here since I was a young boy,” Fletch told her. “The Holloways took in Milo and me. Laramie, all the Holloways, are like brothers to us.”
“Do you live in this house?”
“No, this is the main cabin where all the Holloways live. Milo and I have cabins on the eastern edge of the property. We brought you here, so you could be close to Jensen in case there were injuries that couldn’t be assessed in the field.”
“Maybe, we can check out your cabin later today?”
“Yes,” he agreed then nudged her glass of milk toward her.
She picked it up and took a careful sip. She paused for a moment, licking her lips, before bringing the cup back for another longer drink.
“Still like milk?” he asked.
“Yes,” she agreed with a moan he felt all the way to his core. “I love it.”
He nudged the cookies toward her and watched as she drank her milk, ate two cookies, then downed the second cup of milk he’d poured. It was something so simple yet the pleasure on her face spoke volumes. He’d make sure their fridge was always stocked with milk. That there were always fresh-baked cookies for her. That she never wanted for anything again or wondered if she still enjoyed the taste of something.
Chapter Eight
Helen hadn’t expected to fall back to sleep when Fletch had led them back upstairs, but a full tummy had lulled her back under, leaving her to wake alone. From how cool the other side of the bed was, Fletch had been gone for a while. She glanced around the room, but there was no clock to show her the time. The clothes she’d worn downstairs earlier were crumpled on the floor exactly where she’d stripped out of them earlier. She already knew there weren’t any others in the bag Milo had carried in after her nightmare. There’d been a few toiletries, which unfortunately, hadn’t included lotion. There was a duffle sitting on the floor by the side of the bed where Fletch had slept, and she figured it had to be his. She’d see if her mate had anything she could wear until she found something else. She was swinging her legs off the mattress when there was a knock at the door.
“Knock, knock!” an unfamiliar feminine voice called. “I have breakfast and more clothes.”
“Come in,” Helen replied as she sat up, keeping the sheet covering her.
The door nudged open, and a beautiful woman stepped inside holding a tray with both hands, a shopping bag draped over her forearm.
“Hello. I thought I’d sneak up and see if you were awake yet.” She nudged the door shut with her foot before carrying the tray to the bed and setting it beside Helen. “I’m not supposed to be up here, so let’s keep it our secret.”
“Why aren’t you allowed up here?” Helen asked as she took in the woman now that her hands were free.
The woman waved her fingers as if brushing away that comment before she began pulling clothes from the bag still dangling from her arm.
“Your mate didn’t want you disturbed. Said you needed rest to help you recover.” She inhaled then grinned at Helen. “Or maybe, he just wants you rested for something else.”
Helen’s cheeks heated. She had no idea what to say to that.
“I’m sorry. I’ve embarrassed you. Let me try again. I’m Muriel.”
“Helen,” she offered.
“Nice to meet you, Helen. I know you were in the first group rescued almost two weeks ago.”
“First group?” Helen asked, sitting up straighter.
“Yes. They’ve found two other places, but…” Muriel trailed off.
“But?” Helen prompted.
“There haven’t been a lot of survivors. What you all went through…” Muriel paused again, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around herself. “I can’t imagine the hell you lived in. It makes me feel guilty I was hidden.”
“Hidden?”
“I was one of the survivors of the attacks on the Holloway den. There were seven of us who were separated and hidden amongst the elders. To protect us.”
“Why would the Holloways do that to protect you?” Helen asked.
“They didn’t know about us. The elders kept us a secret. For different reasons.”
