“Real food,” I press.
“Does beef jerky count as real food?”
“No.”
She laughs, and the sound hits me square in the chest.
I should leave. I should go back to the station. I should not stand here in the snow staring at a woman like she’s the first color I’ve seen in years.
But Mila shifts her weight, and I notice the way her coat hugs her curves, the way her body looks strong and soft at the same time, and my brain goes painfully blank.
She watches me watching her.
Not offended.
Not self-conscious.
Just… aware.
Heat crawls up my neck. I force my gaze back to her face. “I can drop supplies tomorrow. We’ve got extra. Canned stuff. Soup. Coffee.”
Her eyes widen. “You don’t have to?—”
“I know.”
I take a step back, creating space I don’t want. “You got the Haven 7 number. If anything happens—call.”
“I will,” she says, and then quietly: “Beau?”
“Yeah?”
She hesitates, then says, “I’m glad you were the one who came.”
The words are simple. Light.
But they land heavy.
Because I’m glad too.
And that’s the problem.
I nod once, rough. “Get inside.”
She unlocks the cabin door, then pauses on the threshold like she wants to say something else.
Instead, she gives me a small wave and disappears into the warmth.
I stand there for a second, staring at the closed door, snow collecting on my shoulders like the mountain’s trying to bury me in my own stupidity.
My phone buzzes.
I glance down.
June:
Well?
Did you meet her?
