Chapter 6 Eli
SIX
ELI
The cabin stays quiet except for the soft pop of the fire and the occasional creak of the floorboards under my boots.
I move through the living room picking up the med kit I left open earlier, wiping down the counter after dinner, and folding the blanket Daisy used on the couch this afternoon.
Every task is simple. Routine. The kind of work that usually clears my head.
Tonight it does nothing but make the tension in my chest tighter.
She’s asleep in my bed again. I checked on her twenty minutes ago.
She looked peaceful then, dark hair spread across my pillow, one hand curled near her cheek.
The sight hit me harder than it should have.
I’ve spent years keeping everything neat and separate.
Patients are patients. Friends are friends.
No overlap. No complications. Daisy walked through my gate and blew that rule to pieces in a single night.
I care about her. Really care. The kind of caring that has me listening for her breathing from the other room and checking the locks twice before I sit down.
It goes against every promise I made to myself after the military.
Keep it light. Keep it temporary. Don’t let anyone close enough to matter.
Yet here I am, wiping the same spot on the counter three times because my hands need something to do while my mind keeps circling back to her.
The kiss from earlier still burns on my lips.
I told myself it was only to stop her from leaving.
A way to make my point. But the way she kissed me back, the soft sound she made in her throat, the way her body fit against mine, none of that felt like a point.
It felt like the start of something I don’t know how to finish.
A low whimper drifts from the bedroom. I freeze. Another sound follows, sharper, scared. I drop the dish towel and stride down the short hallway, heart already pounding.
Daisy thrashes under the quilt. Her face twists in fear. “No,” she mumbles. “Please. Don’t let him find me.”
I sit on the edge of the bed and rest a hand on her shoulder. “Daisy. Wake up. It’s just a dream.”
She jerks upright, eyes wide and unfocused. Her breath comes fast and shallow. Sweat dampens the hair at her temples. I keep my touch light but steady.
“Hey,” I say softly. “You’re safe. You’re in my cabin. No one’s here but me.”
She blinks a few times and finally focuses on my face. Recognition floods her expression. “Eli.”
“Yeah. I’m right here.”
She presses a hand to her chest like she’s trying to slow her heart. “It felt so real. Dominic was in the room. He had my father with him. They were dragging me out. I couldn’t run. My ankle wouldn’t work and they just kept coming closer.”
I slide my arm around her shoulders without thinking. She leans into me immediately, forehead against my collarbone. Her body trembles. I rub slow circles on her back, careful of the fading bruises.
“He’s not here,” I tell her. “He doesn’t know where you are. The team’s watching every road. Every camera. You’re safe tonight. I’ve got you.”
She stays pressed against me for a long minute. Her breathing evens out little by little. When she finally pulls back her eyes are still wide but the panic has softened into something quieter.
“Will you stay?” she asks. “In the bed with me? Just tonight. I know it’s a lot to ask but I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Everything in me tightens. The kiss from earlier already crossed a line. Lying in the same bed with her will test every bit of control I have left. But the fear still lingers in her voice and I can’t say no.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I’ll stay.”
I stand long enough to kick off my boots and pull off my shirt.
I leave the sweatpants on. She scoots over and I slide under the quilt beside her.
The mattress dips under my weight. She turns toward me right away, curling into my side like she belongs there.
I wrap one arm around her and rest my other hand on her hip.
The contact sends heat straight through me. I force my breathing to stay even.
We lie in the dark for a while. The fire in the living room pops softly. Wind moves through the pines outside. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest.
“Tell me about you,” she whispers. “How did you end up here? In Timber Creek. At Haven 7.”
I stare at the ceiling beams and let the memories come. They’re not pretty but they’re mine.
“I grew up in a small town in Montana. Single mom. She worked two jobs and still barely kept the lights on. I enlisted the day I turned eighteen. Figured the military would give me a way out and a way to send money home. I was good at it. Medic track. Learned to patch people up under fire. Saved a few lives. Lost more than I like to remember.”
She stays quiet, listening.
“Last tour was rough,” I continue. “Ambush outside a village. My unit took heavy fire. I dragged three guys to cover and worked on them until the evac choppers came. Took a round to the shoulder doing it. Shattered the bone. Docs said I would never have full range again. Medical discharge. I came home angry and useless and not sure what to do with myself.”
Her hand stills on my chest. “That sounds terrible.”
“It was. I drifted for a while. Odd jobs. Too much drinking. Then Rafe found me at a VA hospital in Spokane. He was there visiting a buddy. We got to talking. He told me about Haven 7. A place where guys like me could heal and help each other. I drove up the next week and never left.”
I shift my arm so she fits more comfortably against me. “The work here suits me. I fix what I can. Keep the team alive. No big hero stuff anymore. Just steady hands and quiet nights. At least that was the plan until you showed up bleeding at my gate.”
She smiles against my shoulder. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.”
We fall quiet again. The tension between us simmers.
I feel every place our bodies touch. Her leg draped over mine.
The soft press of her chest against my side.
The way her breath fans across my skin. I want to kiss her again.
I want to roll her under me and show her exactly how deep this thing inside me has already grown.
Instead I stare at the ceiling and keep my hands still.
She speaks after a long pause. “In another life I would have liked to be a nurse. I used to read medical books in secret. My father thought it was a waste of time but I loved learning how the body works. How to help when things go wrong. I enjoy taking care of people. Even the small things. Bandages. Soup. Just being there when someone hurts.”
Her words hit me square in the chest. She’s describing the same pull that brought me into medicine. The same need to fix what’s broken. I swallow hard.
“You’re still young,” I tell her. “Nothing says you can’t do that now. Once this is over you could go to school. Get your degree. Help people the way you want. You have time.”
She lifts her head and looks at me. The moonlight through the window catches in her eyes. “You really think so?”
“I know so. You’re smart. Kind. Stubborn enough to survive anything. You’d make a hell of a nurse.”
She settles back against me. Her body relaxes slowly. Her breathing grows deeper and steadier. I keep my arm around her and listen to the quiet sounds of the cabin. The fire has died to embers. The wind has settled. Everything feels still except for the steady beat of my heart against her cheek.
She falls asleep in my arms. I stay awake long after her breathing evens out.
The weight of her trust presses into me like something precious and terrifying.
I have spent years building walls so thick no one could get through.
Daisy walked right past them without trying.
Now I’m lying here holding her close and realizing the feeling in my chest is not just protectiveness anymore.
It’s love.
Quiet. Deep. The kind that changes everything.
I close my eyes and let the truth settle. I’m falling for her. Hard. Against every rule I ever made for myself. And right now, with her warm and safe in my arms, I can’t find it in me to regret a single second.
The night stretches on. I don’t sleep much. I just hold her and let myself feel it all. The fear that Dominic could still reach her. The fierce need to keep her here. The quiet joy that she fits against me like she was always meant to.
Tomorrow we’ll face whatever comes next. Tonight I let myself fall a little harder.
And I know, deep down, there’s no coming back from this.