ELI
I sit on the edge of the bed in the dark and watch Daisy sleep.
The fire in the living room has burned down to orange coals that paint faint gold across her face. She lies curled on her right side, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other resting near the stitches I put in her arm. My gray T-shirt swallows her frame and the navy sheet drapes over her hip like it belongs there. Her breathing is slow and even now, no more of those tiny hitches that told me the pain was still riding her hard.
Something tightens low in my chest. A feeling I do not recognize and do not want. It’s warm. Heavy. Protective in a way that goes past the job. I’ve patched up half the men on this mountain. I’ve held pressure on bullet wounds and reset broken bones without blinking. But none of them ever made my pulse kick like this just from watching them breathe.
I scrub a hand down my face and stand. This is ridiculous. She’s a patient. A temporary one. Some woman who crashed through the gate half-frozen and half-dead. Tomorrow I’ll hand her off to Rafe, get the full story, and go back to my normal life. Simple. Clean. No complications.
I walk into the living room so I don’t keep staring at her. The floorboards creak under my bare feet. I grab my phone off the coffee table and dial Rafe. He picks up on the second ring, voice thick with sleep.
“Eli? It’s two in the morning.”
“I know what time it is. I have a woman here. Daisy Madison. Showed up at the gate bleeding and scared. Someone’s hunting her. Sprained ankle, bruised ribs, laceration on her forearm that needed ten stitches. She’s asleep in my bed right now.”
Rafe is quiet for a beat. “You need backup tonight?”
“No. She’s stable. But I’m bringing her to the lodge in the morning. She needs to tell the whole crew what’s going on. And we need to lock the gate tighter than usual.”
“Copy. I’ll wake the others at first light. You good with her until then?”
I glance toward the bedroom door. “Yeah. I’m good.”
I hang up before he can ask anything else. The feeling in my chest has not gone away. It sits there like a rock. I drop onto the couch, stretch my legs out, and close my eyes. Sleep does not come easy. Every time the wind rattles the windows I picture those headlights she described and my hands curl into fists.
Morning light finally creeps through the curtains. I push off the couch, back stiff from the short night, and head to the kitchen. I pull eggs from the fridge, crack six into a bowl, and whisk them hard enough the fork clangs against the glass. Bacon goes into the cast-iron skillet next. The sizzle fills the cabin and the smell of coffee starts brewing. Normal things. Routine things. They should settle me.
They don’t.
Daisy limps out of the bedroom a few minutes later. My T-shirt hangs off one shoulder and the sweatpants are rolled at the waist. Her hair’s a mess of dark waves and her eyes are still heavy with sleep. The sight of her in my clothes hits me square in the sternum. I turn back to the stove before she notices the scowl on my face.
“Morning,” she says softly. “Something smells amazing.”
“Eggs and bacon. Coffee is ready. Sit before you fall over.”
She eases onto the stool at the counter. I slide a mug toward her, black, no sugar. She wraps both hands around it like it is a lifeline.
I plate the food and set it in front of her. “Eat. Then I’ll check your injuries.”
She takes a bite and hums. “This is really good. Thank you.”
I grunt and lean against the counter with my own plate. I watch her eat instead of focusing on my food. The way she favors her left side when she shifts. The faint wince when she reaches for the salt. The stitches on her arm look clean, no redness. Good.
After breakfast I clear the plates and point to the couch. “Shirt up. Let me see the ribs.”
She hesitates for half a second, then lifts the hem of my T-shirt. The bruises have darkened overnight into deep purple across her left side. I run my fingers along the edges, careful, checking for heat or swelling. Her skin is warm under my palm. Too warm. The feeling from last night flares again and I pull my hand back like I touched a stove.
“Still bruised but no worse. Tape stays on another day.” I move to her ankle next. I unwrap the bandage, rotate the joint gently. She sucks in a breath but doesn’t pull away. “Swelling is down. Ice it again after lunch. You can put weight on it but no running from bad guys today.”
She smiles at that. Small. Tired. “No promises.”
I retape the ankle and stand. My voice comes out gruffer than I mean it to. “You’re not leaving this cabin until I say so. Those men are still out there. The team will meet us at the lodge in an hour. You tell them everything. No holding back. I don’t do half measures when it comes to keeping people alive.”
Daisy studies me for a long moment. “You always this grumpy in the morning?”
I turn toward the sink so she can’t see the way my mouth twitches. “Only when I have a stubborn patient who shows up bleeding in the middle of the night and makes me break my own rules.”
She laughs softly behind me. The sound curls through the cabin and settles somewhere I don’t want it to settle.
