Cassidy cried harder while I held her tighter.
My heart beat fierce and protective against my ribs. This stranger had become something precious in the span of an hour.
I wanted to fix everything for her. Wanted to take away her pain and rebuild her house with my own hands. Then I’d hunt down whoever Abeline was and make sure they never hurt her again.
The intensity of the feeling should have scared me, but it didn’t.
It felt right.
Then, as we climbed higher, a different feeling shot through me, cold and sharp.
The telescope.
It was still on my back deck, pointed down at the valley straight at her house. If Cassidy saw it, she’d know I’d been watching her.
My stomach clenched. I couldn’t let her see it.
But it was dark and she wouldn’t go out on the back deck tonight. I’d have time to move it and change the angle before morning. She’dneverhave to know.
I held her closer and kept climbing up through the woods, listening for the sound of a bear or mountain lion… even a pack of coyotes. But the night was silent; the critters of the woods scared off by the fire.
Chapter 4
Cassidy
The hike up the mountain took forever, and I clung to Hall the entire time. I knew his feet were torn up worse than mine, but he never faltered. The man was made of steel.
“We’re almost there,” he rumbled.
I pulled my head off his shoulder and looked. The cabin materialized out of the darkness like something from a dream. Lights were on inside, and it looked warm and cozy.
As we approached, I saw the rough-hewn logs, a sloped roof, and a front porch with a lone rocking chair on it.
Hall carried me up the steps and through the front door, setting me down gently on a worn leather couch.
He wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, then disappeared immediately while I looked around.
The interior was rustic, yes. Simple, definitely. But alsowarm.
A stone fireplace dominated one wall, embers still glowing from an earlier fire. Bookshelves lined another wall, stuffed with thriller paperbacks and what looked like astronomy magazines.
Everything about the place felt deeply lived in. And somehow still deeply lonely.
A small kitchen occupied the back corner, clean but sparse. I spotted one plate in the drying rack. One mug on the counter. And a single chair pulled up to the small dining table.
This man lived alone, truly alone.
Hall emerged moments later with a bucket of warm, soapy water and a hand towel. Without saying a word, he dropped to his knees in front of me, lifted my legs and dipped my feet gently into the bucket.
“Let them soak. I’ll make you something warm,” he said, already moving toward the kitchen. His voice was gruff, as if he wasn’t used to speaking this much.
I nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders while I watched him work. His hands shook as he poured milk into a pot, then measured out cocoa powder.
He had big hands. Capable hands. Hands that had carried me up a mountain as if I weighed nothing.
Hall was still shirtless and barefoot, and I could see now that his feet were torn up bad. He’d run down that mountain without boots. No thought for himself, just to save me and my house.
The reality of what had happened crashed over me all at once. My house was gone, along with my fresh start. Everything I’d worked for and everything I’d built since leaving Abeline. Gone. Up in smoke.
