Not until she can choose me without any question of pressure.
I shut the door behind us, hands fisting at my sides.
Six weeks.
I can wait six little weeks.
Even if it damn near kills me.
CHAPTER 6
WILLOW
Istand back while Thatcher works the thick metal ring hanging from his belt, keys clanking softly as he sorts through them with practiced ease.
“There’s a spare hanging on a hook just inside the door,” he says over his shoulder.
I nod, clutching my arms to my chest more from nerves than cold.
The door opens with a creak.
The cabin is small.
Very small.
I hesitate on the threshold, then step inside, reminding myself that I am one person.
One human with two bags and a need for safety, not square footage.
Kelly already explained it used to belong to a night watchman back before the mill went fully digital.
Apparently, the equipment here is worth a fortune, tempting enough that people have tried to steal it more than once.
“I’ll get the heat on,” Thatcher says, moving past me toward a narrow closet near the bathroom.
I shiver.
It might actually be colder in here than it is outside.
The air feels stale, untouched.
Winter has been sitting in this room waiting for someone to notice it.
I wrap my arms around myself and try very hard not to let my face betray how bleak this feels in the moment.
The cabin is one room.One.
Plain walls.
No charm. No softness.
Thatcher opens the closet and reveals a control panel that looks more industrial than comforting.
He frowns.
“Shit. I need to check the generator. Be right back.”
The door closes behind him, and silence rushes in.
