Chapter 3 Kayley
THREE
KAYLEY
There’s a moment when I wake up that I forget everything.
It’s warm. My body isn’t trembling from cold or fear. The blanket smells like fresh air and soap. Aidan is curled beside me in his makeshift nest of pillows and flannel, his fevered cheeks finally back to a healthy pink. He’s still asleep, soft baby snores puffing from his tiny mouth.
And for one glorious second, I’m just a woman on a couch, waking up to the sound of crackling firewood.
Then the memories return like a freight train.
The blizzard. The car breaking down. The gates. Him.
Gavin.
I blink toward the armchair across from the couch.
Yep. Still here.
He’s slouched low, legs sprawled, arms crossed over his chest. His chin’s tucked against his flannel-covered chest, dark lashes resting against cheeks dusted with stubble. He looks relaxed in sleep—less intense than last night—but still very much a man who could bench-press a bear if provoked.
And God help me, he’s stupid hot.
Like, “someone call the fire department” hot.
Dark hair, longer on top and messily sexy like he ran a hand through it a dozen times before passing out. Full beard that makes him look like a woodsy Viking. Broad chest rising and falling beneath a soft gray T-shirt stretched within an inch of its life.
It’s honestly rude how attractive he is.
I study him for another second—just one, I swear—and then shift slightly to sit up.
My body groans in protest, but it's not from cold or terror this time.
It’s just… tired. Like my muscles are finally figuring out they can relax.
Warmth will do that to a person. So will safety. And flannel.
My stomach chooses this peaceful moment to let out a roaring growl. A true protest of epic proportions, like it’s been personally offended by how little I’ve fed it lately.
Across the room, Gavin stirs. His eyes open—bright glacier blue—and land on me instantly. I freeze like I’ve been caught stealing cookies from a hot lumberjack’s cabin. Then he smiles. Just a little. But it does things to my already-overwhelmed heart.
“Morning,” he says, voice low and rough from sleep. “That your stomach, or a grizzly breaking in?”
I laugh. It feels weird. Wonderful. Like a noise I haven’t made in way too long. “Don’t judge. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning. Or maybe the day before. I kind of lost track.”
He stretches, a slow roll of muscles that makes his T-shirt pull tight in all the best places. “I’ll make breakfast.”
“No!” I blurt, sitting up straighter. “You’ve already done way too much. Let me cook. I owe you at least that much.”
He raises a brow. “You sure?”
I nod. “Unless you don’t trust me not to burn the place down.”
“I don’t even trust Chase with the coffee pot. You’ve got a clean slate.”
I smile and push off the couch, adjusting the blanket around Aidan before heading into the small but efficient kitchen.
Behind me, Gavin moves toward the bassinet and checks the baby like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His gentleness floors me. The way he adjusts the swaddle, and brushes a hand down Aidan’s tiny head.
God, I don’t know who this man is, but I think he might be made of magic and lumber.
I find eggs in the fridge. Bacon. Pancake mix in the cupboard. I move on instinct, grateful for the distraction. For the simplicity of it. After weeks of chaos, making breakfast feels like a sacred ritual.
He walks back into the kitchen area, arms folded, watching me like I’m more interesting than the weather. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”
I glance up. “Yeah. Surprisingly. I think the fact that I’m not running for my life right now is doing wonders for my nervous system.”
“Glad to hear it.”
There’s a pause as I pour batter into a hot skillet. “So,” I say, glancing at him over my shoulder, “how’d you and your flannel-wearing squad of superhero mountain men end up here?”
His mouth curves. “You want the long version or the short?”
“Medium. I’ve got pancakes to flip.”
He leans against the counter, arms crossed. “We served together. Me, Rafe, Boyd, Rhett, Chase, Eli. Wyatt. Thorne. Silas. And Harlan. All different roles, but we crossed paths during the last few years of our time in. A few tours overseas. Some classified stuff.”
I nod slowly, flipping a pancake. “You were military?”
“Navy SEAL.”
Figures.
The way he moves. Commands a room. Like danger is something he eats for breakfast with a side of bacon.
“After we got out, we needed a new mission. Something that felt like us. Rafe found the land up here—Wedding Cake Mountain, Timber Creek. Locals thought we were crazy.”
“Are you?”
“Probably,” he says with a soft grin. “But it worked. We built Haven 7 from the ground up. It’s part safe house, part rescue network, part security operation.”
“And you’re in charge now?”
He hesitates. “Rafe was the commander for a long time. After he met Harper and started thinking about building a family… I took over.”
His voice goes quiet there. Not regretful, just… serious.
“He trusts you,” I say.
He looks at me. “Yeah. They all do.”
I pause, spatula hovering. “Must be nice.”
“What?”
“To be trusted like that.”
Gavin’s gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t press.
Instead, he grabs two mugs and pours coffee from the pot I hadn’t even noticed he brewed. He hands me one, hot and fragrant.
“Your hands aren’t shaking anymore,” he says.
I look down. “Huh. You’re right.” I sip, and then breathe in deep. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like the ground is falling out from under me. I feel okay. Just for a moment.
And I know it’s probably temporary. I know there’s still danger out there. Questions to answer. People I can’t trust. Truths I haven’t told.
But for right now?
I have pancakes. A warm baby. And a grumpy, gorgeous mountain man watching over us like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And honestly?
It feels a hell of a lot like hope.