Chapter Ten
Rafe
Briar stands by the door while I pack the last of the dried meat into my bag. The morning light catches her hair, loose and soft from Mercy’s braiding yesterday. She’s calmer now. The tremors that once lived under her skin have eased. But leaving her still knots tightly in my chest. Like I’m doing something wrong just walking out the door.
“I need to go into town.” I brush my thumb along her cheekbone. “Only for a little while.”
Her throat works. Like she’s trying to hold me in place. She lifts the pencil from the table, hand shaking, and writes one word on the paper:
BACK?
The question punches breath out of me.
“Always.” I cup her chin so she can feel the truth in my hand. “I’ll always come back to you.”
Her eyes lower, lashes trembling. She presses her forehead to my sternum and breathes me in like she’s storing my scent for later. My heart pulls hard enough that I wrap both arms around her, lifting her slightly off the ground just to feel her hold onto me.
Mercy steps into the doorway then, Ivy behind her. “We’ll stay with her,” Mercy says, voice soft. “Promise.”
Briar looks over at them, unsure, fingers twining together. Ivy offers a gentle smile. “We’ll keep her safe, Rafe. Go do what you need to do.”
Briar’s shoulders hunch. She leans into me again, her cheek against my chest. I stroke her back slowly, hoping it anchors her. Hoping it anchors me too.
“You’re safe with them,” I whisper. “Safer than alone. And I’ll come home before the sun’s low.”
She hesitates, then nods once, trusting me more than her fear.
That trust settles heavy in my ribs.
I try to step away, but she catches my wrist. Her fingers wrap around it, small and certain. She looks up at me with eyes that ask without words.
I kiss her forehead. “Sweet girl… you’re okay. I’m not leaving you. Just stepping out.”
She releases me slowly. Her hand lingers on my forearm, sliding down until only her fingertips touch. The loss of her heat feels sharper than it should.
Mercy touches her shoulder. “Come help me with the herbs,” she says gently. “You can sit beside me.”
Briar goes with her, but keeps her eyes on me until I’m out the door.
The ride to town feels wrong. Every rut. Every noise my old pick-up makes. Every mile is too far from her. Every sound in the woods makes me think of her flinching. Every gust of wind reminds me that when she sleeps now, she reaches for me without looking.
I didn’t expect to grow roots this fast. Didn’t expect her to bloom in my hands. Didn’t expect her to become the thing I think about when I’m not with her.
When the town comes into view, I roll my shoulders back, forcing my mind to settle. Supplies. Tools repaired. A quick stop.
Then home.
Home.
The word hits deeper than I want to admit.
The door to the post office swings shut behind me, the bell clattering overhead. I’m barely inside before a tingle pricks the back of my neck. A shift in the air. A wrongness I can’t name yet.
I take three steps toward the counter.
Then I see it.
Not the stacks of mail. Not the clerk. Not the old calendar still stuck on last month.
