I wrap my fingers around hers like it’s instinct.
The walk to my cabin only takes a couple of minutes, but the wind’s picking up and the snow is coming down hard. I carry the baby, shielding him with my jacket, while Kayley walks beside me clutching the blanket around her shoulders like a cape.
The compound is quiet this time of night. Ten cabins dot the property, all strategically placed around the main hall like a starburst. We designed it that way. Each man gets space. A place to breathe. A place to recover.
Silas, Wyatt, Harlan, and Thorne are off duty tonight, but if things pick up we’ll be sure to wake them up.
My cabin’s farthest back.
On purpose.
I unlock the door and shove it open with my shoulder. Heat blasts out, and Kayley lets out a soft moan of relief.
“That’s borderline erotic,” she says, stepping inside. “Do you keep it this warm all the time or is this just for guests escaping potential kidnappers?”
I smirk. “Just for you.”
She shoots me a look over her shoulder. “You don’t even know me.”
“Not yet.”
She swallows hard, and I feel her silence settle over the room like a weight.
The cabin’s one big open layout—bed in the back, living space up front, a fireplace I keep going this time of year, even when I’m out on patrol. Old habits. The kitchen’s fully stocked. The bathroom’s clean. There’s an extra blanket on the couch and a rifle mounted above the fireplace, just in case.
I set the baby down gently on the couch and nod toward the bedroom. “Go change. There’s dry clothes in the chest at the foot of the bed. Closet has flannel. Bathroom’s stocked.”
She hesitates. “You’re not gonna peek, are you?”
“Not unless invited.”
She snorts. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She disappears down the hall, and I stare after her for a beat too long.
There’s a pull in my chest I can’t explain. Something hot and visceral. Something I haven’t felt in a long time—not sincebeforethe missions, before the ghosts. Before the line between right and wrong got muddy.
And I don’t like that it’s making me feel like a man again.
Because men make mistakes. Men feel.
Commandersprotect.
And I’ve got a bad feeling I’m going to do both.
By the timeshe comes back out—drowned in one of my long-sleeve shirts and leggings that cling to her curves in a way that makes me want to commit sins—the baby’s asleep, and the snow is falling harder outside.
She looks softer now. Pink in the cheeks. Her hair down. Tired, but glowing.
“How’s he doing?” she asks, kneeling beside Aidan.
“Better. Fever’s stable.”
She brushes his tiny head, eyes misting.
“You’re good with him,” I say.
Her smile’s sad. “He’s all I’ve got left.”
