“It’s nothing,” I said. “I’m fine. I’m—” My voice cracked. “Farley.”
Just his name. Just that. But it came out like something else entirely.
He pulled me into his arms.
It wasn’t romantic—it was desperate, urgent, the embrace of someone who had genuinely believed they might find a body in the wreckage. His arms wrapped around me tight enough to hurt, and I could feel him shaking, whether from cold or adrenaline or something else entirely.
“Oh my God, I thought—” He stopped, took a breath. “I saw the tree come down from my window. I saw it. And I just—”
“You came,” I said.
“Of course I came.” He pulled back just enough to look at me, and there was something raw in his expression, something unguarded that hadn’t been there even during our kiss. “Of course I came, Samuel. Did you think I wouldn’t?”
I didn’t know what to say. Three hours ago, he’d told me he needed time, that he couldn’t do this, that we should just be friends. And now he was standing in my destroyed cabin, holding me like I was the most precious thing in the world, looking at me like—
Like everything had changed.
Lightning flashed again, thunder rolled, and Purrsephone chose that moment to wail from the bedroom.
“The cat,” I said. “We have to—”
“I know. Come on.” Farley grabbed my hand—the non-bloody one—and didn’t let go. “Both of you are coming with me. Right now. Don’t argue.”
I didn’t argue.
Chapter Twelve
Farley
The walk back to my cabin nearly killed us.
It was only a hundred yards—but in the middle of a thunder snow blizzard, with visibility reduced to approximately nothing and wind that seemed determined to knock us off our feet, those hundred yards felt like a marathon through hell’s frozen-over cousin.
Samuel had Purrsephone tucked inside his coat, one arm cradled the terrified cat while I gripped his other hand and led the way. My flashlight was nearly useless against the wall of white, but I’d memorized the path well enough to navigate by instinct and prayer.
“Almost there!” I shouted over the wind, though I wasn’t entirely sure that was true.
Samuel said something back, but the storm swallowed his words. His hand squeezed mine tighter.
When the dark shape of my cabin finally materialized through the snow, I nearly sobbed with relief. I fumbled with the door, my fingers numb and clumsy, and then we were inside—stumbling over the threshold into blessed warmth and relative silence.
The fire I’d left burning was still going, thank God. The power was out here too, but at least my walls were intact.
Samuel stood in my entryway, dripping snow onto the hardwood, his teeth chattering so hard I could hear them. Purrsephone wriggled free from his coat and bolted toward the fireplace, where she immediately began grooming herself as if the last hour had been a minor inconvenience rather than a life-threatening ordeal.
“You’re soaked,” I said, which was both obvious and unhelpful. “Get out of those clothes.”
Samuel looked at me with an expression that might have been amusement if he weren’t shaking so violently. “B-buying me d-dinner first would be n-nice.”
“This isn’t—I didn’t mean—” I stopped, took a breath, and reminded myself that I was a functioning adult who could handle a crisis without becoming a stammering mess. “Bathroom. Hot shower. Now. I’ll find you something dry to wear.”
I pointed him toward the bathroom and practically pushed him through the door, then stood in the hallway having what could only be described as a minor breakdown.
Samuel Bennett was in my cabin. Samuel Bennett, whom I had kissed approximately four hours ago and then rejected in the most emotionally fraught way possible, was currently taking off his clothes in my bathroom.
I heard the shower turn on.
Samuel Bennett was naked in my bathroom.
