We play for another hour, and I don’t think any of us could tell you who won or lost the most hands. The game is just an excuse to sit together, to talk and laugh and exist in this warm, comfortable space we’ve created.
Eventually, Finn yawns dramatically. “Well, I’m beat. All that supervising today really took it out of me.”
“You sat on a stump and ate snacks,” Gabe points out.
“Exactly. Do you know how hard it is to find a comfortable position on a stump? It’s exhausting.” Finn stands and stretches. “I’m heading to bed. Gabe?”
There’s a loaded moment where Gabe looks between Finn and me, something unspoken passing between them.
“Coming,” Gabe says finally, rising from his chair. “Goodnight, you two.”
They head upstairs, leaving Melody and me alone with Oxford, who has moved closer to the fire and is watching us with unblinking eyes.
“I should probably take him home,” I say, nodding toward the llama. “It’s getting late.”
Melody shakes her head. “He can stay. He seems comfortable here.”
“Are you sure? He can be a bit… high-maintenance.”
“I think we understand each other,” she says, her voice soft with affection as she looks at Oxford. “Besides, I promised I’d walk him tomorrow.”
“If you’re sure,” I say. “I should head back anyway. Early start tomorrow with the trees.”
I stand, but Melody doesn’t move.
“Thank you for coming over,” she says, stifling a yawn. “It was nice having you here.”
“Thanks for the card game. Even if I was terrible at it.”
She laughs, the sound slightly drowsy. “We were both terrible.”
I move to the door, gathering my coat. When I turn back, Melody has curled up on the sofa, her eyes already closing. She looks peaceful, soft, and utterly exhausted.
“Melody? Should I help you upstairs before I go?”
She makes a slight noise that might be a disagreement. “Just resting my eyes for a minute,” she murmurs. “Then I’ll go up.”
I should leave. She’s falling asleep, and it would be creepy to stay and watch her. I grab a blanket, the one from my bed, and drape it over her, tucking it around her shoulders. She sighs contentedly, snuggling deeper into its warmth.
“Goodnight, Melody,” I whisper.
As I quietly let myself out, I glance back. Oxford has moved from his pillow bed to the floor beside the sofa, positioning himself like a guardian next to Melody’s sleeping form.
His dark eyes meet mine, and I swear there’s understanding in them.
Take care of her, and Oxford blinks once, as if in agreement.
I close the door softly behind me, stepping out into the cold night air. But I can still feel the warmth of her skin against my fingertips, can still smell the vanilla-clove scent that now seems to cling to me.
And as I walk to my truck, I realize I’ve left more than just my blanket. I’ve left a piece of me, too.
15
Melody
Something warm and moist puffs against my face. I wrinkle my nose, still half-asleep. The smell is… pungent, like hay and something earthy.
Another puff of hot breath hits my cheek.
