“You’re really sending me away?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s steel under it.
“Yeah.” I drag a hand through my hair. “Because if you stay out here another minute I’m gonna carry you to that bed and spend the rest of the night learning every sound you make when you come. And you’re not ready for that. Not yet.”
She stares at me for a long beat. Then she nods once, small. “Okay. But Colt?”
“Yeah?”
“This isn’t over.”
She turns and walks to the bedroom. The door clicks shut behind her.
I sink back onto the couch, head in my hands, cock throbbing so hard it hurts. The fire pops. The storm rages outside.
Inside, I’m burning alive.
And I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.
FIVE
WILLA
I wake up tangled in quilts that still smell like Colt, my body’s still sore but not screaming anymore. The cut on my arm is a dull itch under fresh gauze, and the bruise across my ribs has faded from angry purple to a mottish yellow-green. I can breathe without wincing now, which feels like a small miracle.
Sunlight slants through the frost-laced window in thin, pale bars. Wow. Actual sunlight. The storm hasn’t stopped entirely; wind still rattles the shutters now and then, but the relentless howl has quieted to a low moan. I sit up, swing my legs over the side of the bed, and test my weight. Steady. No dizziness. Progress.
I pull on a flannel shirt lying on the edge of the bed. It’s Colt’s. Something he laid out for me. I pad barefoot into the main room.
Colt’s already up, of course. He’s at the stove in a fresh gray Henley and jeans, pouring coffee into two mugs. The fire’s low but steady, and the cabin smells like pine smoke and fresh bread he must have started before dawn. He glances over when I step in, green eyes sweeping me head to toe like he’s checking for new damage.
“Morning,” he says, voice rough from sleep or the cold or both.
“Morning.” I hug my arms around myself. “It’s… lighter out there.”
He nods toward the window. “Storm’s breaking. Wind’s down. Snow’s still coming, but not like yesterday. Should clear enough by tomorrow or the day after to see the ridge.”
Relief floods me so fast my knees feel weak. I sink into one of the chairs at the small table. “Thank God.”
He sets a mug in front of me, and then slides a plate of thick toast slathered with jam beside it. He sits across from me, elbows on the table, watching me with those piercing green eyes.
I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the heat seep into my palms. “I need to get back.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just takes a slow sip of his own coffee.
“I’m an elementary school teacher,” I say, the words tumbling out like I’ve been holding them too long. “Third grade. They’re probably wondering where I am. And my friends at the library, Evelyn and June will probably be losing their minds. They both work at the library. We run the after-school tutoring program together. I tutor the kids who need extra help with reading and math. It’s small, just a handful of us volunteers, but those kids… some of them only get one-on-one time because of us. Evelyn helped me get it started last year. She’s probably called the police by now, or my principal, or both.”
Colt’s jaw tightens, but he stays quiet, letting me talk.
“I hate that they’re worried. That the kids might think I just disappeared. And June—she’s the only person who really knowswhat I was running from. She’s the one who gave me the cash and the burner phone when I finally decided to leave him. If she thinks something happened…” My throat closes. I swallow hard. “I just want the storm to end so I can get back to work. Back to normal. Or whatever normal looks like after this.”
He sets his mug down. The sound is deliberate. “Storm should be done in a day or two. Roads’ll be plowed by then, assuming no more dumps. But Willa?—”
I look up.
“You’re not going anywhere until we’re sure it’s safe.”
My stomach drops. “What do you mean?”
“Your ex and his buddies didn’t make it up here in the blizzard. Doesn’t mean they’re gone. They know you ran. They know roughly where. Iron Peak’s small—folks talk. If they’re still looking, they’ll check the town, the motels, the bus depot. You show up bruised and bandaged, asking for a ride or a phone? They’ll hear about it in an hour.”
