I flop back against the pillow and stare at the ceiling again, trying to will my blood pressure down.
“Great timing, Tucker,” I mutter to myself. “Really stellar.”
I force myself to take inventory, just as I would in an exam room.
Heart rate: finally easing.
Breathing: ragged, but improving.
Mental state: somewhere between thirteen-year-old with first crush and grown man who just had a wholly inappropriate dream about a woman relying on him for safety.
I scrub my hands over my face again.
This isn’t new, not exactly. I’ve been drawn to her since long before the fire. Since the first time I saw her at the market, talking about her honey as if it was art and science and religion all rolled into one.
Since the first time she smiled at me over a jar labeled “Golden Meadow.”
But proximity does things. Rescuing someone does things.
Watching them in your cabin, barefoot and soft-voiced and trying not to fall apart, does things.
“Okay,” I tell myself. “Here’s the plan. Step one: get up. Step two: cold water. Step three: do not be weird around her.”
Easier said than done.
I roll out of bed and stand there, grounding myself. The floor is cool under my feet. It smells less smoky than last night, more pine and stale coffee.
Somewhere beyond the thin wall, I hear somebody, Marshall, probably, shift in bed.
I grab clean clothes from the chair, dress quickly, and head for the bathroom.
The cold water helps. A little.
By the time I step into the main room, the cabin is just starting to stir.
Light seeps in through the windows, pale and gray. The fire map on my phone shows no major changes overnight.
The twins are still asleep in the loft. I can hear Jesse snoring faintly from his room, an almost comical contrast to the quiet.
For a blissful few minutes, it’s just me and the soft sounds of the cabin waking up.
I need this peace.
For the rest of the day, I’d love justthis.
But of course, I highly doubt I’m going to get that…
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Abilene
Wednesday
If the cabin were alive, it’d be groaning.
The walls creak with every footstep. The floors complain under boots, kids, and general insanity. And somewhere in the middle of it all, I’m standing barefoot in the tiny living room, clutching my bee pendant like it might give me courage.
Because today?
