I push the door open.
Warmth hits first—smell of coffee and burning pine. Avery stands in the middle of the living room. She wears my flannel shirt again, sleeves rolled up, hair a messy, dark halo. She looks tired, eyes red-rimmed.
She spins around. Her body sags.
"Oliver," she breathes out. "I woke up and you were gone. The axe was in the stump, but you weren't..."
She trails off, taking in my appearance. Covered in wood chips, eyes dark, looming in the doorway like a bear dragged through a sawmill.
"I didn't leave," I say. Voice rough from cold and disuse.
I drop the tool bag near the door with a clatter. Walk past her to the kitchen sink. Turn on the tap. Scrub until the grease is gone, even as the hot water stings.
Her eyes bore into my back. Waiting. Scared. She thinks I went out there to patrol. Maybe to find a way to get rid of her.
I dry my hands on a towel and turn.
"Where did you go?" she asks quietly. Arms wrapped around herself.
I reach into my pocket. Fingers close around cold metal.
"Down the ridge."
Her face falls. "Oh. Checking the road? Is it clear?"
"No." I step into her space. Need to smell the vanilla and rain clinging to her skin. "Not the road. I was at your place."
Brows knit. "My place? Why?"
"Railing is fixed. All of it. 4x4 pressure-treated posts, lags into the joists. You could park a truck on it."
Her lips part. No sound.
"Reinforced the door frame," I continue, stepping until my boots touch her socks. "Steel strike plates. Three-inch screws. New deadbolt. Patched the siding on the north wall."
"Oliver..." Her voice wobbles.
"It’s safe now. A fortress. No one gets in unless you let them."
Tears well in her bright blue eyes. "You fixed my house? In the middle of the night?"
"Couldn't sleep." I grunt. "Don't like loose ends."
"Loose ends," she repeats. A small smile touches her lips. "Is that what I am?"
"No."
The word comes out sharp. I cup her face. Skin soft and warm against my calloused palms. I rub my thumb over her cheekbone, catching a stray tear.
"You said you never had a home. Said you were tired of being temporary. I made sure that place will stand for a hundred years, Avery. It’s yours. Solid."
I pull the key to the new deadbolt from my pocket. Press it into her hand. Her fingers curl around the brass.
"Thank you," she whispers. "I... I don't know what to say. You did all that so I’d have somewhere to go?"
"I did it so you’d be safe. Wolves in these woods, Little Bird. Can’t be everywhere at once."
She nods, staring at the key. She thinks this is it. The goodbye.
