She nods slowly, then looks back at the fire. The light flickers across her face, catching in her hair, softening the edges of her features. She looks warm. Comfortable.
I shift in the chair.
"What about Kinsley?" Wendy asks. "Does she get lonely out here?"
"Sometimes. Probably more than she lets on."
"She seems happy, though."
"She is. Mostly." I pause, choosing my words carefully. "But I know she's missing things. Community. Other kids. A mother."
"You're doing the best you can. That's what matters."
"Is it?" I ask.
"Yes."
I study her for a moment, trying to figure out what makes her so sure.
"You don't know me," I say.
"I know enough."
"You've been here a few hours."
"And in those few hours, I've seen you keep your daughter safe, warm, and loved. I've seen you pull a stranger out of a blizzard without hesitation. I've seen you give up your coat, your food,your space, all of it without asking for anything in return." She pauses, her voice softer now. "That's enough."
I don't know what to say to that.
She looks away, breaking the moment, and adjusts the blanket around her shoulders again. The movement draws my attention to her hands, her fingers still faintly red from the cold.
I imagine those hands in mine. Warm. Steady.
I shove the thought down hard.
"You should get some sleep," I say, my voice rougher than I intend.
She glances at me, startled, then nods. "Yeah. You're probably right."
She arranges the pillow, smooths the blanket, then hesitates.
"Ezra?"
I look up.
"Thank you," she says again. "Really."
I nod, not trusting my voice.
She settles onto the couch, pulling the blanket over herself, and the dog shifts closer, curling against her legs. She rests one hand on his head, her fingers scratching absently behind his ears.
I stay in the chair, watching the fire, listening to the storm.
After a while, her breathing evens out. Not asleep yet, but close.
I stand and move quietly toward the hallway, pausing at Kinsley's door to check on her one more time. She's still asleep, her face peaceful in the dim light.
I pull the door shut slightly, then retreat to my own room.
