Chapter 3 #2
Her heart clenched. “Ready how?”
He met her gaze evenly. “By making sure they never make it to that door.”
Winter’s breath caught. She wanted to argue, to tell him he didn’t need to be the shield anymore—but the look in his eyes told her there was no point.
She knew that he wasn’t about to let anyone take her or the baby.
Even if he didn’t seem to want her anymore, he’d still keep her safe. It was just that kind of guy Jace was.
Still, fear wound tight in her chest. “Jace, what if they come while you’re outside? What if—”
He stepped closer, cutting her off gently, his hand cupping her face. “Then I’ll handle it. But you stay inside. No matter what, Winter. Promise me.”
She swallowed hard. “I promise.”
He leaned his forehead against hers, and for a moment, the tension broke. “We’ll get through this,” he murmured. She wasn’t sure why hearing him call them a we made her a bit giddy or why it made her heart speed up having him so close—but it did.
Winter closed her eyes, letting the warmth of him sink in even as the cold truth pressed against the windows.
Someone had been here. Someone knew that the cabin was occupied.
The question was—did they know that it was Jace, and was it the Dead Rabbits?
She wanted to tell herself that it wasn’t possible, but deep down, she could feel it—the storm outside hadn’t been the last one coming.
By late afternoon, the sun was sinking behind the trees, bleeding gold through the frost-covered glass.
Winter watched Jace through the window as he moved outside, bundled in a dark coat and gloves.
His breath clouded in the air while he worked, hammering boards over the side windows and checking the perimeter with a soldier’s precision.
Every sound echoed too loudly in the cold—wood cracking, metal clinking, the faint crunch of snow beneath his boots.
He’d already walked the tree line twice, following those tracks until they disappeared into the woods.
When he came back in, his jaw had been set tight enough to crack.
He said nothing to her, just started laying traps—tripwire rigs, motion alerts he’d rigged from an old flashlight battery, and a makeshift line of cans strung across the back door.
He’d been quiet most of the day, focused, almost mechanical. Winter had a million questions that she wanted to ask, but knew that now wasn’t the time. They were in danger, and all she could think about was why he didn’t seem to want her anymore.
She busied herself the only way she knew how—keeping the fire small and steady, rationing what food they had left, boiling water for tea she didn’t even want to drink. Her stomach twisted with unease every time she glanced out toward the tree line.
When Jace finally finished one last perimeter check, his face was flushed from the cold. He brushed snow from his shoulders and kicked off his boots. “Perimeter’s tight,” he said, his tone clipped. “If anyone comes close, I’ll know.”
Winter bit her lip, almost not wanting to say what she was about to say. “And if they come from the road?”
He paused. “Then they’ll hit the traps that I set out there first.”
Her throat tightened. “Jace—”
He looked at her then, really looked, and his face softened just a little. “I’m not looking for a fight, Winter. And I’m not going to do something stupid. I’m making sure no one reaches you and the baby. That’s all.”
She nodded, even though it didn’t settle the dread building in her chest. He leaned down, brushed a kiss to her forehead, and whispered, “It’s just one more night.
We’ll make it through this.” But deep down, she didn’t believe him.
Something told her this wasn’t just one more night—it was the beginning of whatever came next, and she knew that not asking the question in her heart might be a mistake. It was now or never.
“Why don’t you want me anymore, Jace?” she almost whispered. She sat down on the sofa, feeling as defeated as she probably looked.
He crossed the room to sit down next to her, and she curled up next to him on the couch, her hand resting gently on the curve of her belly. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his eyes full of quiet admiration as she waited him out for an answer.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, voice low and reverent.
She smiled, her fingers lacing with his. “Even like this?” She ran her free hand over her belly, and she did the same.
“Especially like this,” he whispered. And I know that I’ve been distant, but it’s only because I want to keep my head clear so that I can keep you and our son safe.
It doesn’t mean that I don’t want you anymore, Winter.
Actually, having you show up on my front porch, pregnant with my baby, has only driven home the fact that I want you more.
I’m just not sure that now is the time to talk about all that. ”
“If not now, then when?” she challenged.
“You’re right,” he breathed. “So, let’s do this. I want you and God. I hope that you still want me, honey. One night with you wasn’t enough for me.”
Hearing him say that gave her so much hope. “It wasn’t enough for me either,” she admitted. She patted her belly and smiled at him. “And apparently, the universe had other ideas about us only having one night together.” He chuckled and practically pulled her onto his lap.
They leaned into each other, foreheads touching, the silence between them filled with the rhythm of the fire and the soft hum of fresh snow that was again falling outside the cabin.
His hand moved to her belly, feeling the subtle kick beneath her skin.
They laughed together, a shared joy that filled the room with warmth, and she didn’t want the moment to ever end.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, they watched the snow fall, the world outside fading into white. In that moment, the cabin was their universe. They were safe, and for just a few minutes, the Dead Rabbits didn’t even exist.