"It was for me."
I shrug out of my jacket and hang it on the hook. Then, acting as nonchalant as I can so as not to set off Caroline's alarms, I lift the Remington off the rack above the door and lean it against the wall by the armchair. I want it within arm's reach of where I sit.
Caroline doesn't fall for the charade. "I thought we were fine."
"We are," I say, though I'm lying again. "Rifle was getting dusty up there."
She opens her mouth, no doubt to call me out on my bullshit, but something in my face must discourage her, because she turns away without talking.
At least she hassomesense of boundaries.
I cross to the stove, scrape out the cooled eggs in the pan, and start breakfast over again. For a few minutes, it's only the crackle of the fire and the sizzle-pop of grease. When they're done, I make a plate for me and a plate for her, then set them on the table.
"Eat," I tell her. "Or don't. I don't give a shit either way."
She sighs. "Such a charmer."
But she limps over and sits down across from me. Wolf settles at her feet with a contented groan. The only sounds are the clink of forks on ceramic and the wind outside pressing against the walls.
Caroline finishes first. She sets down her fork and fixes me with a hopeful look. "So," she says. "Story time?"
I shake my head. "Not today."
She blinks. "What?"
"Which word was confusing?"
"But you said?—"
"I know what I said."
Her hope curdles into anger. "Youjusttold me—like ten freaking minutes ago!—that you'd tell me everything."
"And I meant it. But not today."
"Why not?"
Because they're coming,I want to tell her.I don't yet know whotheyare, but I have plenty of guesses, each more dangerous than the last. I don't know if you brought them here or if you merely have a fucking terrible sense of timing, if you're caught in the middle of something you will not survive. But either way, I won't have blood on my hands.
I've had enough of that to last a lifetime.
"Snow's got me in a bad headspace," I mutter instead. "Need to think."
She erupts. "You've had six months to think! You've been up here in the wilderness with a dog and enough firewood to heat the Eastern Seaboard, and you needmore time to think?"
Her eyes are crackling with anger, fists clenched on the table. I can see the fight building in her, and I can hardly blame her. I made a promise and proceeded to break it almost as soon as it was spoken aloud. That's a rotten thing to do to a woman who suffered like she did just to find me.
But I can't give her what I promised. Not with what I just saw outside.
And I can't let her stay. The moment the snow clears, I'm putting her on a bus. I'll drive her to the trailhead myself if I have to. I'll carry her if her ankle won't hold. Whatever it takes, I'll get her out of these mountains and back to Manhattan, where she belongs.
Where she's safe.
And then I'll come back here and figure out who the fuck was in my woods.
"I'm sorry," I offer.
She doesn't bite on that for even a second. "No, you're not."
