Carson pretended not to notice the murder occurring between siblings. “Whenever works for Sienna.”
I froze.
He was deferring to me.
Like I wasn’t a walking embarrassment, a tornado ready to pull all the chaos into my orbit, and had actual authority and professionalism.
“Tomorrow morning,” I forced out. “At sunrise. Unless that’s too early.”
He shook his head. “I prefer early.”
Of course he did.
He probablythrivedat sunrise. Probably absorbed sunlight like a pine tree and emitted competence.
“Great,” I said. “Perfect. Wonderful. We’ll, um… dry run the trail.”
My sisters burst into giggles again.
Carson took a slow sip of his black Americano. “Sounds good.”
He smiled in a way that told me the universe had far too much invested in this thing between us. It wasn’t a mockery or amusement at my expense. It was something warmer. Something that made the air around us feel thicker.
“See you then,” he said.
My heart skipped as he walked toward the door, flannel stretching in all the ways flannel was not meant to stretch,shoulders broad beneath the puffer coat, and boots steady in the slush.
Every step made my chest feel tighter.
The jingle of the door echoed as he left.
Violet stared at me.
Fiona stared at me.
I stared at the table, wondering how soon I could legally change my name and flee the country.
“Sienna,” Violet whispered. “You’re toast.”
“And Carson is the butter,” Fiona added.
And I knew, with a certainty that fizzled all the way to my toes, that they were right.
I was so unbelievably doomed.
Chapter Ten
Carson
The temperature at five a.m. was twenty degrees.
Twenty.
Even my jacket seemed offended by it.
The sky was a dark slate-gray, the kind of predawn color that existed in the quiet space between night and day, and frost creaked under my boots as I crossed the lodge’s side lot toward the equipment shed.
A single light glowed from inside.
