Heat crawls up my neck. I grunt, turning to pour hot water over fresh grounds. I keep my back to her so she doesn’t see whatever’s showing on my face. When I bring her a mug, she wraps both hands around it, same way she did earlier. Like the warmth is the only thing anchoring her.
“Colt,” she says quietly.
I freeze at the sound of my name in her mouth. Soft. Sweet. Like she’s tasting it. “Yeah?”
“Whoever’s after me… they won’t just stop. They’re not the kind of men who give up.”
I meet her eyes. “Then they’ll die trying.”
She blinks, searching my face like she’s trying to decide if I mean it.
I do.
I’ve killed before—war, then a couple times after, when men thought remote meant lawless. I don’t lose sleep over it. Ifsomeone comes for her, they’ll meet the business end of my rifle or the blade I keep strapped to my ankle. Simple.
She doesn’t flinch at my words. Just nods once, slowly. Like she believes me. Something shifts in my chest—tightens and loosens at the same time.
I set my mug down harder than I mean to. “You need the bathroom?”
She glances toward the small door off the main room. “Yeah. If it’s okay.”
I jerk my chin. “Go. There’s clean towels on the shelf. Hot water’s limited—don’t waste it.”
She stands carefully, testing her balance. The blanket falls away. She’s still in just my oversized tee I gave her after I cut her ruined shirt off—hem hitting mid-thigh. Bare legs. Bare feet. Bruises blooming purple on her shins from whatever she crashed through getting here.
My jaw locks.
She notices me looking. Color climbs her cheeks, but she doesn’t cover up. Just lifts her chin a fraction. “I’ll be quick,” she says.
I nod, watching her walk to the bathroom. She moves slowly, and I clock her movements. The door clicks shut. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. She’s in my space. Wearing my shirt. Bleeding on my floor. Trusting me when she shouldn’t trust anyone. And I’m already thinking about how she’d feel under my hands—not hurt, not scared, just…mine.
I drag a hand through my hair, and force myself to the window again. Snow’s still coming down sideways. No visibility. No tracks. No way anyone’s climbing this ridge tonight.
But tomorrow?
Tomorrow’s another story.
I check the rifle. Chamber a fresh round. Set it back within reach.
When she comes out, hair damp, face scrubbed clean, looking smaller and younger and somehow even more dangerous to my peace of mind, I’m ready.
“Bed,” I say. “You take it. I’ll stay out here.”
Her eyes flick to the single bedroom door, then back to me. “Colt?—”
“No argument.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “You need rest. Real rest. Not on that damn couch.”
She hesitates. Then nods. “Okay. But… you’ll wake me if anything happens?”
“Promise.”
She crosses to the bedroom, pausing in the doorway. She looks back at me over her shoulder. “Colt?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For not turning me away.”
I swallow hard. “Go to sleep, Willa.”
