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I ask Sofia to collect Murphy’s bowls. Birdie comes out of the kitchen, taking in Cassie’s face, my expression, and the distance between us.

“I can get his carrier,” Birdie says. “I was going back for my bag anyway.”

“Reid will take you,” I tell her.

“He already offered.” Birdie moves beside Cassie and brushes a strand of hair away from the bandage at her temple. “Call me if your ankle gets worse.”

“I will,” Cassie promises. “You can come over whenever you want.”

“You know I will.” Birdie points her finger at me. “Make sure she eats dinner.”

“I intend to.”

Cassie holds her hands out, palms up. “Hey, I’m standing right here.”

Birdie wraps an arm around her for a brief hug, careful of the injured side, and follows Sofia out.

Leo remains near the kitchen door. He’s changed out of his soot-marked jacket, but a dark streak remains along his jaw.

“I’ll check on Mila before I leave,” he says. “Call if there’s anything you need from me.”

“I will, dyadya.”

He nods once at Cassie, then goes. Within minutes the house grows still around us.

I hold out my hand. “May I help you upstairs?”

She takes it. “Yes.”

We climb slowly. The stairs curve beside a tall window that looks over the western vines. Rain has washed the smoke from the air, leaving the rows dark beneath the evening sky. Cassie pauses halfway up and presses her lips together when she puts pressure on her ankle.

I tighten my grip on her hand. “I’ll carry you.”

Cassie steadies herself against the banister. “I can make it upstairs.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” I stay beside her, close enough to help if she asks.

“Then please let me.” She takes the next step, and I follow at her pace.

Each step tests my patience. She was frightened for the horses and went back into a burning stable, and now I want to protect her from a staircase. She reaches the landing without asking for more help.

My bedroom is at the end of the hall. Cassie has never been inside my house before tonight, and bringing her here while she’s hurt is nothing like the way I imagined showing it to her. I open the door and step aside, giving her room to enter at her own pace.

A wide bed faces windows overlooking the vineyard. Books sit on low shelves, and a chair beside the fireplace holds one of my mother’s woven blankets folded over its arm. The room is orderly because I seldom leave anything where I won’t find it again. Cassie’s gaze moves over the blanket, the books, and the empty half of the dresser.

“It looks like you,” she says.

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.”

She gives me a small smile. “The books help.”

Cassie stops beside the dresser, where her overnight bag is already waiting. She turns to me, one hand resting on its handle. “You had someone bring my things up here before I agreed to stay?”

“Sofia brought the bag.” I keep my hands at my sides. “I asked her to leave it here.”

“You were that sure I’d agree?”

“No.” I don’t move closer even though I want to. “I hoped you would, and I wanted you to have what you needed if you did.”