“Not alone, you’re not.”
“Reed, you can barely walk.”
“Then we’ll move slowly.”
I start toward my coat, and Eliza moves to block me. “This is insane. You’ll make your ankle worse.”
“And you’ll freeze to death out there.”
“I’ve been taking care of myself for years.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to.”
We’re standing close now, close enough that I can see the fear beneath her anger. I can see her pulse thrum in her neck, the shine on her lips where she licks them with her tongue. She’s not worried about the goats. She’s worried about what happens if we stay here together, in this warm, candlelit space where pretending we’re just friends becomes impossible.
“Give me the coat,” I say, reaching for the garment in her hands.
“No.” She pulls it closer to her chest.
“Eliza.”
“Reed.”
Somehow we’re both holding her scarf now, each of us pulling gently in opposite directions like we’re children fighting over a toy. But there’s nothing childish about the way she’s looking at me or the way my heart is hammering against my ribs.
“You can’t keep running,” I whisper.
“Watch me,” she says, but her voice wavers.
The scarf stretches between us, soft wool connecting us across two feet of charged air. Outside, the wind howls, and inside, something else entirely builds to a storm. I smile, appreciating the perfection of her last name. I let go of my end of the scarf.
19
Reed
Eliza stumbles slightly from the sudden release of tension.
“Fine,” I breathe. “Go check on your animals.”
She blinks, clearly surprised by my capitulation. “I… fine. Good.”
She wraps the scarf around her neck and heads for the door, but I’m already reaching for my coat.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Coming with you.”
“Reed, your ankle?—”
“Will be fine for a short walk.” I pull on my jacket, ignoring the way she stares at me. “Besides, someone needs to make sure you don’t blow away in this wind.”
“I told you I can take care of myself.”
“Trust me, I know.”
She opens her mouth to argue, then seems to think better of it. “If you fall and hurt yourself worse, I’m leaving you in a snowbank.”
“Deal.”
