Ethan
She doesn’t sit, doesn’t relax, doesn’t even pretend to.
Maddie stays planted in the middle of my cabin like she’s ready to bolt at any second, her arms locked tight over her chest, her gaze moving constantly as she tracks every exit point, every shadow, every shift in the room.
The windows. The door. The corners. Me. Mostly me.
I lean back against the counter and take my time watching her in return, letting the silence stretch just long enough to get under her skin.
“You always stare like that?” she asks, her voice edged but steady.
“Only when something’s worth watching.”
Her mouth tightens, but there’s heat there now, something sharper than irritation. Not just anger. Good. That means she’s settling in enough to feel something besides fear.
“You done assessing me?” she mutters.
“Not even close.”
That earns me a glare, sharp and defiant, but it doesn’t stop her eyes from drifting back to me again like she can’t quite help herself.
“Cabin’s small,” she says after a second, like the realization just hit her.
“It is.”
Her gaze shifts toward the bed, then back to me, slow and deliberate this time, like she’s choosing every movement.
“Where am I sleeping?”
I push off the counter and step closer, not all the way, just enough to feel the subtle shift in her breathing.
“Bed’s yours.”
Her brows lift. “And you?”
“Couch.”
She glances at it, taking in the size, the reality of it, then looks back at me with a hint of disbelief.
“You don’t look like you fit on that.”
“I make it work.”
She lets out a quiet breath, something between a scoff and a reluctant acceptance. “Right.”
I move past her, grab a log, and toss it into the fireplace. Sparks jump as the flames catch, heat filling the cabin quickly, chasing out the chill that’s been hanging in the air. She turns with me, watching every movement like she’s cataloging it.
“You always play host like this?” she asks.
“I don’t have guests.”
Her lips part slightly at that, just for a second. “Then what am I?”
The word lands harder than I expect. Her chin lifts immediately, defensive.
I let the silence linger, realizing that she’s here to stay, she did answer my mail-order bride ad afterall.
I brush my hands together and move toward the window, scanning the tree line out of habit.
It’s getting dark faster than it should, the air heavy, the kind that signals a storm rolling in whether you’re ready for it or not.
“You eat?” I ask without looking back.
She shrugs. “I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I said I’m fine.”
I turn then. She hasn’t moved from that spot, but the tension in her shoulders is sharper now, more telling. Hungry. Tired. Pushing through both.
“Sit,” I tell her.
Her eyes flash immediately. “Don’t start.”
“Sit,” I repeat, lowering my voice just enough to make it clear I’m not asking.
She holds my gaze, long and steady, like she’s weighing whether this is a fight she wants to pick. Then, after a beat, she moves, dropping into the chair at the table like it was her idea all along.
I almost smile. Almost.
I grab a plate, set it in front of her, then turn back to the stove.
“You cook too?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Anything you don’t do?”
“Plenty.”
She leans back slightly, studying me now the same way I studied her earlier, her attention sharper.
“Like what?”
I glance at her over my shoulder. “Like letting people walk all over me.”
That quiets her for a second. Good.
I finish plating the food and set it down in front of her. She looks at it, then up at me.
“You trying to impress me?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I plant a hand on the table, leaning in just enough that she has to tilt her head back to keep eye contact.
“Keeping you alive.”
Her breath catches, quick and involuntary, but she recovers just as fast.
“Pretty sure I can feed myself.”
“Not if you’re distracted.”
“By what?”
I hold her gaze. “By whoever’s watching you.”
The silence that follows is heavy, thick with something unspoken. She looks away first, reaching for the fork, taking a bite without another word. She doesn’t comment on the food, but she eats, fast at first, like she didn’t realize how hungry she was until now.
I watch her for a moment longer, then step back, giving her space, not much, just enough.
“You always this intense?” she asks between bites.
“Yeah.”
“Must be exhausting.”
“It’s not.”
She glances up. “No?”
“No.”
“Why?”
I shrug once. “I don’t waste energy on things that don’t matter.”
Her fork pauses halfway to her mouth. “And I matter?”
There it is.
I don’t answer right away. I just watch her, let the silence stretch again until I see the pulse in her throat jump, until she knows I notice it.
“You’re here,” I say finally.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is.”
Her lips part, then press together again as she goes back to eating, slower this time, thinking.
The cabin settles into quiet after that, filled only with the crackle of the fire and the growing wind outside, and the subtle sounds of her moving through the space like she belongs here more than she should.
I don’t like how quickly that thought takes hold, or how right it feels.
Plenty of women answered the ad, but a few five-minute phone calls was all it took to rule them out.
I was about to delete the ad altogether, but something with Maddie felt different.
She finishes and pushes the plate away. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She stands, stretching slightly, and my gaze tracks the movement before I can stop it, catching the brief flash of skin where her shirt rides up. Warm. Soft. I look away before it becomes a problem.
“Bathroom’s through there,” I say, nodding toward the hallway.
She follows the gesture, then looks back at me. “You going to stand guard outside the door too?”
“If I have to.”
Her mouth curves just a little. “Control issues?”
“Survival instincts.”
“Same thing.”
“Not even close.”
She holds my gaze for a beat longer, then turns and disappears down the hall.
I exhale slowly and drag a hand over the back of my neck. This is going to be a problem.
I move back to the window, scanning the tree line again. It’s fully dark now, the wind picking up harder, branches swaying, shadows shifting. Then I see it. Movement. Subtle, controlled, not the storm.
My body stills as I step closer to the glass, narrowing my focus. A shadow moves between the trees, then disappears. Gone, but not gone enough.
I know what I saw.
“Maddie,” I call.
Her voice comes from down the hall. “Yeah?”
“Come here.”
There’s a pause, then footsteps. She appears in the doorway, her brows pulling together at my tone.
“What?”
I gesture toward the window. “Look.”
She steps closer, stopping beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat of her through the narrow space between us.
“What am I looking for?” she asks.
“Movement.”
She leans in slightly, squinting into the dark. “I don’t see—”
A branch snaps, loud and close.
Her breath catches, and her hand brushes my arm on instinct before she pulls it back like she didn’t mean to. Too late. I felt it.
“Someone’s out there,” I say.
Her voice drops. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
The silence that follows is tight, charged.
“What do we do?” she asks.
I turn to face her, closing the distance until there’s no space left between us.
“Nothing.”
Her eyes widen. “Nothing?”
“We stay inside.”
“That’s your plan?”
“It’s the only one that keeps you safe.”
Her jaw tightens. “You said you’d find him.”
“I will.”
“Then why are we just standing here?”
“Because he wants you to panic.”
She exhales sharply. “I’m not panicking.”
I step closer, boxing her in without touching her.
“Your heart says otherwise.”
Her breath stutters. “Get out of my space.”
“Make me.”
The words come out low, rough, before I can stop them.
Her eyes flash, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t push me away. Doesn’t step back. She just stands there, looking up at me like she’s deciding something that could go very wrong for both of us.
“You always this bossy?” she asks.
“Only when I’m right.”
“About what?”
I let my gaze drop, slow and deliberate, to her mouth, then back up.
“This.”
Her breath catches again, and this time she doesn’t try to hide it.
Outside, the wind howls as the storm rolls in, something unseen moving in the trees beyond the glass. But in here, in this moment, none of that matters.
Right now, the only thing I’m focused on is her.