Page 68 of Sick(ness)

A staircase led up to a narrow loft, and a short hallway branched off the back wall with three doors, likely bedrooms and a bathroom.

Jay followed her gaze. “The left sides the guest room. You two can crash there tonight.” His tone was even, casual, but the look he gave Sawyer wasn’t. There was a quiet curiosity in it, a measure of the situation.

Sawyer’s arm came around Addy’s shoulders almost instinctively, pulling her back into his chest in a protective, unmistakably possessive way. It wasn’t overtly aggressive, but the message was clear.

Jay caught it, held his hands up slightly, a knowing half-smile crossing his face. “Fair enough,” he said simply.

Addy sensed the tension ease from Sawyer’s grip as quickly as it had appeared. Still, his arm stayed where it was.

Jay continued, motioning toward the back of the cabin. “You’ll find some clean towels in the bathroom. If you want to take a real shower, we can heat up some water from the tank; it’ll be hot within the hour.”

Addy’s eyes widened. “A hot shower?”

Jay chuckled. “Solar heater and propane backup. Took me forever to rig it right, but it works. Not fancy, but better than freezing.”

Sawyer’s expression softened, the edge of suspicion giving way to cautious approval. “You’ve done good work here,” he said.

Jay shrugged modestly. “Comes from years of fixing outboards and wiring lights for fishermen who didn’t want to pay for real help. You learn a thing or two about keeping the lights on.”

Addy smiled faintly, her eyes sweeping over the cabin again. “It’s… kind of perfect.”

Jay nodded. “Perfect’s generous. But it’s safe. That’s what matters.”

Sawyer said nothing, but his gaze followed Jay as the man walked toward the back door, checking the locks with practiced movements. Safe, sure. But Sawyer knew better than to take safety at face value.

As Addy took a seat near the fire, letting the warmth seep into her bones, Sawyer stood by the window, watching the snow swirl faintly against the glass. His hand rested lightly on the butt of his rifle.

Jay might be trustworthy.

But trust, Sawyer reminded himself, had to be earned.

* * *

They moved into the small room Jay had pointed out, the one at the end of the short hallway. It was neat but worn, with a narrow bed covered in a patchwork quilt of faded blues and greens that looked handmade decades ago. A pine dresser stood against the wall, its surface scarred with water rings and knife marks. The single window, cloudy at the edges with age, looked out over the frozen expanse of the lake, now a slate-gray mirror under the darkening sky. The faint orange glow from the fireplace in the main room flickered through the doorway, casting elongated shadows across the uneven floorboards.

Addy dropped her pack beside the bed, the canvas thudding softly against the wood, and began peeling off her gloves. Her fingers emerged red and stiff, and she flexed them painfully, watching the white marks appear and fade across her knuckles. Sawyer shut the door quietly behind them, the latch catching with a dull click. His expression tightened, jaw muscles bunching beneath stubbled skin.

“Hand me the handgun,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the creak of the wind against the walls and the soft groan of the cabin settling into the cold night.

Addy blinked, her chapped lips parting. “What? Why?”

“Better safe than sorry,” he murmured, taking it from her. The metal gleamed dully in the dim light before disappearing under his shirt, the barrel snug against the small of his back. “We don’t really know this guy. Not yet.”

Addy frowned, lowering her voice. “He’s been good to us, Sawyer.”

“I know,” he said softly, brushing her arm. “But that’s exactly when people get careless. I won’t let anything happen to you. You matter too much to me, and while this looks good…” His eyes flicked toward the closed door. “Sometimes things that look good are too good to be true.”

Her chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his tone wrapping around her like a blanket. She nodded, whispering, “Okay.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her temple, just a brush, quick and grounding, before straightening and opening the door. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s not draw attention.”

When they stepped back into the main room, the smell hit her first: rich, earthy, unmistakable. Coffee.

Jay stood at the small counter, pouring steaming liquid into three mismatched mugs. The scent filled the space, warm and intoxicating.

“Thought this might hit the spot,” he said over his shoulder. “Haven’t had company in a while, and I’ve got enough to share.”

Addy’s eyes widened as she approached. “You really do have coffee.”