8. Piper
EIGHT
PIPER
The first rays of morning light filter through the cabin windows, soft and golden.
I wake slowly, blinking at the wooden beams overhead.
For a moment I just lie there, taking in the quiet.
My body still aches, but it’s a dull, manageable kind of pain now.
The sharp, breath-stealing agony from the first few days has faded into something I can push through. I feel stronger. More like myself.
Boyd’s still asleep in the chair beside the bed.
He’s been sleeping there every night, refusing to leave me alone even though I told him days ago that I would be fine.
His head is tilted back, arms crossed over his broad chest, rifle leaning against the wall within easy reach.
Even in sleep he looks ready. Protective.
It makes something warm bloom in my chest that I’m not ready to name yet.
I decide right then that today I want to do something for him. He has taken care of me nonstop. Feeding me. Helping me wash. Reading to me. The least I can do is make him breakfast.
I slide out of bed as quietly as I can, wincing when my cast thumps against the floor. The crutches are right where Boyd left them. I grip them tightly and make my way to the small kitchen area, moving slowly so I don’t wake him. Every step still hurts, but I’m getting better at ignoring it.
The kitchen is simple and neat, just like the rest of the cabin.
I find eggs in the fridge, bread on the counter, and a cast-iron skillet hanging on the wall.
I crack eggs into a bowl, whisk them with a fork, and start heating the skillet.
The familiar motions feel good. Normal. For the first time since the crash, I feel useful.
My mind wanders while I work. I keep thinking about my father.
Viktor Lane. By now he must know something happened.
Has he already started searching harder?
Does he have people looking for me in every small town near the mountains?
The thought makes my hands shake. I don’t want to go back.
I can’t go back. But what happens when I’m fully healed?
When Boyd realizes I’m no longer his responsibility?
Will he still look at me the way he does now, like I matter?
I push the worry down and focus on the eggs. They sizzle nicely in the pan. I add a little salt and pepper, then slide bread into the toaster. The smell of breakfast fills the cabin. It feels domestic. Almost like a real life. A life I could have here if I let myself believe it’s possible.
Behind me, the chair creaks. I turn and see Boyd sitting up, rubbing a hand over his face. His hair is tousled from sleep, and his shirt is wrinkled. He looks softer like this. More human.
He sees me at the stove and stands immediately. “Piper. You shouldn’t be up doing that.”
“I wanted to,” I say, smiling a little. “You’ve done everything for me. Let me do this one thing. It’s just eggs and toast. I’m being careful.”
He crosses the room in a few strides and gently takes the spatula from my hand. His touch lingers for a second on my fingers. “I’ll help. You sit. Tell me what you need.”
I let him take over, hobbling to the small table and lowering myself into a chair. Watching him cook is strangely comforting. He moves with quiet efficiency, flipping the eggs perfectly, buttering the toast just the way I like it. He even pours me a glass of orange juice from the fridge.
When he sets the plate in front of me, I feel a lump rise in my throat. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
He sits across from me, his own plate much fuller. “You would’ve figured it out. You’re tougher than you look.”
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. The eggs are fluffy and seasoned just right. The toast is warm and crispy. It’s simple food, but it tastes like the best meal I’ve had in weeks.
After a while I look up at him. “Boyd? After breakfast… would you still want to take me to watch birds? Like you mentioned the other day?”
His eyes soften. “If you feel up to it. We won’t go far. Just to the clearing behind the cabin. I can carry you if the crutches get too much.”
I smile, excitement bubbling up despite everything. “I’d like that. A lot.”
We finish breakfast and clean up together. He washes while I dry, standing on one foot and leaning against the counter. The domestic rhythm feels easy between us. Natural. When everything is put away, he helps me into a warm sweater and a jacket, then hands me the crutches.
The air outside is crisp and fresh. The sun’s bright but not too hot.
Boyd stays right beside me as we make our way slowly along the path behind the cabin.
He points out uneven spots in the ground so I don’t trip.
When the path gets a little steeper, he simply scoops me up without asking and carries me the rest of the way to a flat, sunny spot overlooking the valley.
He sets me down on a large, flat rock and sits beside me. From his jacket pocket he pulls out a small pair of binoculars and hands them to me.
“Look over there,” he says, pointing. “Near that cluster of pines. See the blue flash?”
I lift the binoculars and scan until I spot it. A beautiful mountain bluebird, exactly like the one in his book. Its feathers catch the sunlight, glowing almost electric.
“It’s stunning,” I whisper.
Boyd’s voice is low and calm beside me. “They come back every spring. The males do these little dances in the air to impress the females. Wings spread wide, fluttering like they are showing off everything they have.”
I lower the binoculars and look at him. He’s watching the bird, but there’s a softness in his expression I’ve never seen before. Gentle. Patient. Nothing like the hard, dangerous man who carried me out of that wrecked car in the rain.
We stay there for a long time. He points out different birds.
A Clark’s nutcracker hiding seeds. A white-breasted nuthatch walking down a tree trunk headfirst. A hawk riding the thermals high above us.
He tells me little facts about each one, his voice steady and warm.
I listen to every word, asking questions just to keep him talking.
The longer we sit there, the more I feel something shift inside me.
This man has taken care of me without asking for anything in return.
He’s been patient when I wake up scared in the middle of the night.
He’s fed me, helped me wash, made me laugh even when I didn’t think I could.
He is gentle in a way I’ve never experienced from a man before.
Strong but never rough. Protective but never controlling.
I’m falling for him.
The realization hits me quietly but surely as I watch him point out another bird in the distance.
I trust him. Completely. And it’s more than trust now.
My heart feels full when he’s near. Safe.
Wanted. I don’t know what the future holds.
I don’t know if my father will find me. But right now, sitting on this rock with Boyd beside me, pointing out birds like it’s the most important thing in the world, I know I want to stay.
I lean my head against his shoulder. He goes still for a second, then wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For this. For everything.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You don’t have to thank me, Piper. I’m right where I want to be.”
We stay like that for a long time. The mountain is quiet around us. The birds sing. The sun warms our skin. And for the first time since I started running, I let myself imagine a future that doesn’t end in fear.
A future with Boyd.
A future here.
A future I’m starting to believe I deserve.