Wyatt helps me settle back against the pillows. His hands are gentle as he adjusts the blanket around me. He tucks it carefully around my injured leg, making sure it stays elevated. The simple act makes my chest feel tight. No one has ever taken care of me like this. Not like this. Not without wanting something in return.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“You don’t have to,” he says simply. “Just get better. That’s all I want.”
He sits back down in the chair. I watch him for a moment. He’s so still. So solid. His presence fills the room without him having to say a word. I feel safe with him. Safer than I’ve felt in months. But I’m also aware of him in a way I’ve never been aware of a man before. The way his shoulders fill out his shirt. The way hisjaw tightens when he’s thinking. The way he looks at me like he wants to devour me whole.
It turns me on. I’m a virgin. I’ve never felt this kind of pull before. Never wanted someone to touch me the way I want him to touch me. The thought makes my cheeks flush. I look away, hoping he doesn’t notice.
“Get some rest,” he says softly. “I’ll be right here.”
I nod and close my eyes. Sleep pulls at me quickly. But even as I drift off, my mind stays on him. On the way he looks at me. On the way he makes me feel safe and wanted at the same time. On the way I’m starting to wonder what it would feel like to let him in completely.
To let him have all of me.
When I wake again, the fire’s still burning low. Wyatt’s still in the chair, but his laptop is open on his lap now. His fingers move across the keys with quiet focus. He looks up when I stir.
“You’re awake again,” he says. “How’s the leg?”
“Better. The medicine helped.”
He closes the laptop and sets it aside. “Good. You should eat something. I made more soup. It’s still warm.”
I nod and let him help me sit up. He brings the bowl over and sits on the edge of the bed this time, close enough that I can feel the heat from his body. He feeds me again, spoon by spoon, patient and careful. Every time his fingers brush mine when he hands me the spoon, a little spark runs through me. I’m hyper-aware of him. The way his shirt stretches across his chest. The faint stubble on his jaw. The way his eyes darken when he looks at me for too long.
I’ve never had a man look at me like this. Like he wants to consume me. Like he’s holding himself back by a thread. It makes me feel things I’m not used to. Warm. Achy. Curious. My cheeks burn every time our eyes meet.
This is all too much. “I have to go to the bathroom.” I sit up to quickly, and he helps me the rest of the way. I stand, and hobble to the bathroom across the hallway.
Once inside, I splash some cool water on my face. “What is wrong with you?” I ask myself. I blow out a deep breath, hoping I can go through with all of this. I’m not lying to Wyatt when I tell him bad men have my brother.
Hostage.
And I have to complete this mission to get him back. And I’ll do anything to achieve that.
FIVE
WYATT
The morning light filters through the cabin windows, soft and pale against the wooden walls. I wake early, the way I always do, but this time I don’t move right away. Junie’s still asleep in my bed, curled on her side under the heavy quilt, her dark hair spread across the pillow. She slept through the night. No nightmares. No waking up in pain. I’m grateful for that. More grateful than I can put into words. Her breathing is steady and deep, her face relaxed in a way it hasn’t been since I found her stumbling through the snow.
She looks peaceful. Beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes my chest feel too tight. I’ve been fighting the pull since the moment I carried her back here, but it’s getting harder every hour. She’s under my skin now. In my head. In my blood. I want her in ways I’ve never wanted anyone. I want to pull her close and keep her there. I want to taste her. Touch her. Claim her. The attraction is bold and intense, a constant heat low in my gut that I have to control every time she looks at me with those big brown eyes.
I force myself to get up quietly. I pull on a shirt and jeans and head to the kitchen. She needs food. Real food. I pull out the ingredients for pancakes and mix the batter, adding fresh huckleberries I picked up from the lodge yesterday. The pan heats on the stove, and the smell of cooking batter fills the cabin. I hope she likes them. I want to do something good for her. Something normal.
A soft sound comes from the bedroom. Junie’s awake. I hear her moving carefully, the crutches thumping lightly on the floor. She appears in the doorway a moment later, wearing my flannel shirt again. It hangs loose on her, the hem brushing her thighs. Her hair’s messy from sleep, and her cheeks have a little more color today. She looks better. Stronger. It does something to me, seeing her like this in my space. In my clothes. Like she belongs here.
“Morning,” I say, keeping my voice low. “How’d you sleep?”
She smiles, small but real. “Better than I have in weeks. I don’t remember waking up once. Thank you for letting me take the bed.”
I nod toward the table. “Sit. Breakfast is almost ready.”
She limps over and lowers herself into a chair, careful with her injured leg. I flip the pancakes and slide a stack onto a plate, adding a pat of butter and a drizzle of maple syrup. I set it in front of her with a fork.
“Huckleberry pancakes,” I say. “Hope you like ‘em.”
Her eyes light up when she sees the berries. “These are my favorite. How did you know?”
