I leaned against the doorframe and watched her for a while, jaw tight.The lamplight caught her hair; her face softened in concentration, and for a second, the storm outside seemed far away.She looked too at ease in there, like she belonged in a place I’d long since given up calling a home.
The wind howled, rattling the panes harder, and I told myself she’d have to leave soon.The storm was getting worse, and no amount of stubbornness could change that.
Still, a part of me knew—she wasn’t going anywhere.Not tonight.
And damn it all, I wasn’t sure if that thought unsettled me… or steadied me.
Hours slipped by while she worked, her humming filling the corners I’d kept empty for years.The storm never let up—wind clawing at the windows, snow hammering down so hard I couldn’t see past the porch.I kept telling myself she’d leave soon, but she never did.
Then, without warning, the power cut out.A sharp click, then nothing.The lamps died, the hum of the furnace faded, and the house plunged into darkness.Only the moan of the wind outside remained, long and low, like some beast circling the walls.
She jumped.I heard the quick catch of her breath from across the room, the sudden stillness as her hands froze mid-task.For a heartbeat, I thought maybe she’d bolt, that this would finally drive her out.But then she cleared her throat, softer now, and said, “I’ll be fine here.”
Brave words.Braver than most.But I heard the truth beneath them—the faint tremor in her voice, the way her breathing came quick and sharp before she steadied it.
Something in me stirred.Old instincts, hardwired and unyielding.The part of me that had dragged men out of burning wreckage, that had stood guard in the desert heat when sleep was a luxury.The part that had once known how to protect, even when I didn’t want to.
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay still, to keep my voice low and even.I didn’t want to care.Didn’t want to let her need slip under my skin the way her smile already had.
But in the dark, with the storm pressing in and her breath quickening, I couldn’t lie to myself.
I wanted to keep her safe.
Even if I’d never admit it out loud.
“You can’t sort in the dark,” I muttered, my voice cutting through the stillness.The library was nothing but shadow now, the shelves looming like giants.“You’ll ruin more than you fix.”
She hesitated, and that was when I noticed the small tremor in her shoulders, the way she drew her arms tighter around herself.The storm was gnawing at the house, and with the heat gone, the chill was already creeping in.
I cursed under my breath.“Come on.”
Her head lifted, eyes questioning.I didn’t give her a choice, just jerked my chin toward the front room and strode ahead.
At the fireplace, I crouched low, striking a match with more force than necessary.“Wasted wood,” I grumbled as the flames licked up, catching on the logs I’d been saving.“Storm’ll eat through the stack faster than I can split more.”
But the fire took, crackling to life, throwing warmth into the room.She settled close to it, hugging her knees, the glow wrapping her in gold.
I should’ve looked away.Should’ve busied myself with the fire, the storm, anything but her.But for a heartbeat too long, I didn’t.
The flicker of the flames softened her face, made her eyes brighter, made her smile curve in a way that hit me harder than it should’ve.She looked… peaceful.At home, almost.
My chest tightened.
Too fast, I tore my gaze away, jaw clenching until my teeth ached.I had no business noticing details like that.Not her smile, not the light in her eyes.She was off-limits.
She was a reminder of everything I’d lost.A reminder of who I used to be, of the man who’d taken it all from me.
She was trouble.
And I couldn’t afford trouble.
The fire caught well enough, crackling low, and the glow settled into the room.She sat close, knees hugged to her chest, her scarf still looped around her neck.For a long while, the only sound was the hiss of the logs and the moan of the storm against the windows.I could’ve lived with that silence.
But she wasn’t the type to let it stand.
“It’s really coming down out there,” she said softly, watching the flames.“Think it’ll last all night?”
“Likely,” I muttered, poking at the fire with the iron.“Storm like this doesn’t blow through quick.”
