Page 23 of Revival in Laurel Valley

“Got it,” she gasped, pulling herself up and out. She rolled onto solid ground, breathing hard.

Grant was up seconds later, moving with the kind of strength and grace that shouldn’t be possible after the day they’d had. He knelt beside her, checking the bandage on her ankle.

“How far?” Liza asked through gritted teeth.

“Maybe three more miles.” He looked at her face in the moonlight, saw the pain she was trying to hide. “I’m going to carry you the rest of the way.”

“Grant, you can’t⁠—”

“Watch me.” He swept her into his arms, settling her weight against his chest. “Save your strength. We’re almost there.”

The cabin appeared through the trees like something from a dream.

It was small, built of weathered logs that had gone silver with age. A stone chimney rose from one end, and a covered porch wrapped around the front. Through the windows Grant could see it was dark inside, undisturbed. No motorcycle. No fresh tracks in the dirt. No sign that anyone had been here in weeks.

He did a full perimeter check before approaching, Liza still in his arms. The forest was silent except for the whisper of wind through the pines and the distant call of an owl. When he was satisfied they were alone, he carried her up the porch steps.

The door was locked, but Wyatt had told him where to find the key—under a rock shaped like a bear near the woodpile. Grant found it, unlocked the door, and carried Liza inside.

The cabin smelled like pine and old smoke and something indefinable that spoke of safety. Grant found a lantern and matches on a shelf by the door. The warm glow revealed a single room with a woodstove, a kitchen area with a hand pump at the sink, two bunk beds built into the wall, and a table with mismatched chairs. Simple, but clean and dry.

“Home sweet home,” Grant said, carrying Liza to one of the lower bunks. The mattress was thin but there were thick wool blankets folded at the end.

“It’s perfect,” Liza said, and meant it. After the fear and the running and the cold, this small cabin felt like a sanctuary.

Grant built a fire in the woodstove while Liza watched from the bunk. His movements were efficient, practiced—crumpling newspaper, arranging kindling, coaxing flame to life. Within minutes, warmth began to seep into the space, chasing away the chill that had settled into her bones.

He found canned food in the cupboards—soup, beans, vegetables. The manual water pump at the sink creaked but worked, producing clear cold water. There was coffee in a tin, sugar in a jar, even a bottle of whiskey on a high shelf.

“Colt keeps this place stocked,” Grant said, pulling out supplies. “We’ve got food, water, medical supplies. We can hold out here for as long as we need to.”

He brought the medical kit to the bunk and carefully unwrapped Liza’s ankle. It had swollen during the hike, purple bruising already spreading across her skin like storm clouds.

“This is going to hurt,” he warned, pulling out an ice pack and activating it with a sharp snap. He placed it gently on her ankle, and Liza hissed at the cold.

“Better than the alternative,” she managed.

Grant elevated her foot on rolled blankets, then turned his attention to the cut on her temple from the bakery shooting. It had scabbed over, but the bruising around it was spectacular.

“How’s your head?”

“Hurts. But everything hurts right now, so it’s hard to say which part is winning.”

“Good. Because I have plans for you, and I need you conscious for them.” He smiled, but his eyes were serious. “Drink this.”

He handed her water and pain pills from the medical kit. Liza swallowed them gratefully, feeling the cool water soothe her throat.

“Your turn,” she said. “Let me see your hands.”

Grant’s hands were cut and bruised from the mine shaft, from carrying her for miles through rough terrain. Liza took the antiseptic and gauze and cleaned each wound carefully, her touch as gentle as his had been.

“We make quite a pair,” she said. “Both falling apart.”

“We’re still standing. That counts for something.” Grant caught her hand, brought it to his lips. The gesture was so tender it made her chest ache. “You were incredible out there. Most people would have given up.”

“I had good motivation to keep going.” She met his eyes. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun.”

He laughed, the sound warm and unexpected in the small space. Then his expression sobered. “I need to check in with Lane. Let them know we’re here.”