Page 80 of No Hope of Rescue

I’m still confused and paw at the curtains. “What time is it?”

“Eight in the morning. Heavy cloud cover right now but pretty clear by ten.” He pulls back the sheet and begins to gently clean me.

My thighs quiver for a moment under his touch.

“Am I hurting you?”

I shake my head.

“We’re all going to the cabin to say goodbye to Luke and Devon. They’re leaving.

I stare at him. I want to stay here forever.

“Time for clothes, girly girl. The boys made a huge breakfast spread.”

΅

It feels surreal to all be at the cabin, with Savi bouncing around, happy to be reunited with Brock.

“Glad that’s over. Damn dog only wants to watch murder mysteries,” grumbles Carter, swinging a leg off the snowmobile. We’ve all dismounted and are busy removing our gloves and helmets, then our boots and coats once inside. Savi, after tearing up the mountain, quivers, trying to anticipate the perfect moment to climb into Brock’s lap. He’s wearing a gray flannel shirt, black denim pants, sporting a stubble and looks hot as hell.

Laughing, he rubs her head and scoops her up in his arms. His messages of “Such a good dog!” are interrupted each time she dives in to lick his face.

“You loved every minute of it, Carter,” Brock says, setting her back down. Carter just pretends to not care for dogs.

“Seriously? I couldn’t watch a single game. She whines for rom-coms too.”

The smells of food, already pungent in the chilly air of the porch, bloom when we step inside. Brock takes my hand as we enter and kisses the top before accepting the mug of coffee Kelly offers.

The kiss doesn’t go unnoticed, and the temperature of the room seems to go up a degree.

Ross sits next to Codie, who looks better than she did two days ago. Her color is back in her checks, and I whisper to Brock that maybe she’s actually looking flushed next to Ross.

The thought seems to have never crossed his mind, but before he can go over and embarrass everyone in a ten-foot area by pulling some big-brother act, I redirect him to the food laid out on the table. Cheesy omelets, pancakes—plain, pecan, and blueberry—yogurt and granola, and homemade cinnamon rolls sit in the center, with a pitcher of orange juice at either end.

Jace and Ryan eagerly grab extra chairs, and Carter makes sure Kelly’s seated before everyone else descends.

I hope Brock doesn’t try to pull a chair out for me. I would die of embarrassment.

But he does and there’s another hush, and then the self-conscious murmur of restarted conversations.

“Stop,” I whisper.

“Make me.” He grins. Then he throws an arm over the back of my chair.

This third move does the trick. There are easy glances around the table and a broad smile from Kelly. I see Jace kick Ryan, who’s about to say something off-color, and then all is well with the Weston world. No big announcement needs to be made. Us being together is no revelation to anyone—except us.

I love this.

The food is delicious, and Jace has made another batch of pecan pancakes, so there’s enough to go around. It’s not until the very end, in the kitchen when those of us who didn’t cook are cleaning up, that Carter turns to Brock and I overhear him say, “Thought this would never happen. Shit.” And then, after a wink to me: “Thank God you aren’t an idiot, big bro.”

While we’re all spread out by the woodstove, Ross suddenly gets up and pulls something from his coat.

“I believe this is yours.” He hands it to Codie with his good hand, keeping the other one tucked in the sling.

It’s a blue knitted ski cap. “Oh, my God. Dad’s cap? Thank you! Where did you find it?”

“It was in the room they held you in. Agent Trent thought you might like it back.”