I sit beside her again, pulling her under my arm. She fits there like she always does because she was built for that space.
After a quiet minute, I ask, “Do you want to talk about what she said? About your dad?”
Sadie shakes her head immediately. “Not tonight. I will. Just… not yet.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” I tell her. “Not before.”
A tear tracks down her cheek before she wipes it quickly. “Wyatt… can we just sleep? Not talk anymore. Not think anymore. Just… sleep.”
“Yeah,” I whisper into her hair. “We can do that. We’ll rest. We’ll heal. You’ll sleep for a week, and I’ll stand guard at the door if I have to.”
Her eyes soften. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Her smile is small and tired, but so fucking precious.
I scoop her up gently. She wraps her arms around my neck like muscle memory as I carry her to the bedroom.
She crawls under the blankets and holds out a hand for me like she’s afraid I might disappear between the door and the mattress.
I get in beside her immediately. She curls into me. Arm across my stomach. Leg thrown over mine. Face tucked under my jaw. I stroke her back until her trembling quiets.
“Wyatt?” she whispers, almost asleep.
“Yeah, Dove?”
“Thank you for finding me.”
My throat burns. “Always.”
“And for staying,” she adds softly.
I kiss her forehead. “Always that, too.”
Her breathing slows, syncing with mine, softer and softer until the storm outside becomes the only sound.
I stay awake long after she drifts into sleep. Not because I’m afraid she’ll disappear. But because I want to memorize the weight of her in my arms, the rise and fall of her breath, the miracle of having the woman I love safe in my bed instead of disappearing into the blizzard with a gun to her spine.
When sleep finally pulls at me, I let it.
She’s here.
We’re both still breathing.
And tomorrow, we’ll start whatever comes next.
Together.
Chapter 20
Sadie
The cabin feels different the morning after everything happened.
Not unsafe, just… full. Full of memories, fear, relief, unanswered questions, the ghost of gunfire still echoing somewhere in my bones.
Wyatt hasn’t let go of me since sunrise. Every time he walks past me, his fingers brush my back, my wrist, my waist—just enough contact to confirm I'm still here. I don’t mind it. I need the grounding too.
