The approval washes over me and my heart pounds at how it feels to be the recipient of his positive attention. I want to relish it, but Oren turns slowly away, moving toward the door. I follow behind, putting my feet exactly where Oren puts his. Following his instructions to the letter.
We cross, the wood firm beneath us, not even creaking under our weight, and I listen hard for anything that might be a warning of the danger the big man in front of me is so attuned to. I don't hear a sound out of place. Just the wind through the pine boughs.
As Oren steps through the entry, I see the door once more, hanging crooked, and there are gouges in the wood that make me think of someone digging into the surface with a sharp knife and slashing at the material. I reach out to skim my fingers over the damage, the brighter color of the wood against the weathered area surrounding it proof of how recently this happened.
The comfort of my grandmother's space wraps around me as we step inside. Even with the furniture overturned, the ripsand tears in the upholstery, this place still feels like home to me. I was always happy here. Growing up, those rare weeks I got to spend with her were the freest I'd ever felt. Going home had meant a life dictated by my father's plan for my life. What I should accomplish. What he wanted for me.
Up here, I had the freedom to do what I wanted. Even if that was napping in the middle of the day or reading a book for fun instead of my edification.
That same promise existed even among the devastation around me. Furniture could be replaced. A door repaired.
With that, I knew I was staying here. No matter what happened, I wasn't going back to where I came from.
Oren moved around the cabin with easy familiarity. It didn't surprise me. When she was sick in the hospital, my grandmother had talked about him. How he'd helped her stock firewood or fix things she couldn't do on her own.
"He's a good man."She'd squeezed my hand as she said that. It was like she was trying to impress the importance of that fact on me. I was seeing it in real time now. From the moment I'd gone to Oren for help, he'd set aside everything else to do exactly that.
I watched him as he checked every room methodically. And even with his focus on identifying any possible threat, I was constantly aware that his attention was always on one thing. Me. His gaze would return to check my location, as if he was measuring the distance between us. Like he didn't trust what might happen if I was out of his sight.
"It's gone."
His words pulled me out of the haze I'd fallen into. "What? What's gone?"
"This wasn't a break in. At least, not the way you probably thought." He picked up one of the slashed pillows and laid his own hand over the marks. "This was done by a bear."
"A bear?" My skin flashed cold and I wavered on my feet, swallowing against the fear that swamped me.
Oren was at my side in an instant. "Hey, there, Ayla. It's all right. This is a good thing."
"A bear? A bear is a good thing?" I reached for his arm, needing his stability, his strength, to keep me upright.
"If I have to choose between a bear just out of hibernation and a knife wielding human attacker? Yes. The bear is a good thing. It was hungry, and your grandmother hasn't been here in a while. The normal evidence of human presence that likely would have warned him away weren't here and he probably remembered the smell of food in the past. So he broke through the door, gave it a look, and didn't find anything. He's gone. The likelihood that he'll be back is slim to none."
The damage around me swam in and out of focus. I felt the tight not in my throat, the tears welling up in my eyes. Oren wrapped me in a hug, holding me against his warm, muscled chest, fingers working softly through my hair as he tried to soothe me. "It's all fixable. I promise."
How had I ended up here, on my own in a destroyed cabin, and yet more supported than I'd felt most times in my life?
My earlier determination returned and I promised myself I could do this. I could stay on this mountain, rebuild what was ruined, and prove everyone I'd left behind that they were wrong. My father. My step-mother. Even my ex-fiancee. They all expected me to come running back.
Grandma had believed I could do this, though. And Oren's reassurance felt like proof he believed it, too.
I didn't push away from him. I just soaked in the comfort he offered, letting a fraction of his strength soak into me.
My breathing slowed, the tears eased away, and I closed my eyes. A picture of what this cabin would look like when I wasdone with it rose up. Restored. That's what it would be. What I would do.
"That's it." Oren's voice was low, gruff but not harsh. It was almost like he was trying to contain his emotions much the way I was. "Feeling better?"
I looked up at him, surprised at the intensity in his eyes as he watched me. Concern, that was there. I was sure of it.
And maybe something more.
"Better." I nodded to emphasize the word, rewarded by his lips curving up as he smiled for the first time since we'd met. Which disappeared the second I asked, "Can you help me get the door back in place so I feel a little better about sleeping here tonight?"
7
OREN
"Not happening." Ayla's chin lifted in stubborn argument and I stepped away, needing space between us or I might just haul her back into my arms. Carry her out of here. Back to where I knew she'd be safe. Instead, though, I tried to explain. "Not tonight, I mean. There's no way I can get it set back in place and secure in the time we have before it gets dark."
