Chapter 19
THATCHER
I’m trying not to lose my fucking mind over what almost happened.
She was seconds away from touching that generator with her bare hands. Seconds.
One wrong move, one spark in the wrong place, and she could’ve been shocked clean off her feet.
Burned.
Killed.
The image hits me so hard my stomach twists.
If I’d been even a moment later—fuck no.
I don’t finish that thought.
Fury burns hot and fast in my veins, sharp enough to make my vision tunnel. I drop the extinguisher into the snow and drag a hand through my hair, breath coming rough.
I know I’m scowling. I can feel it pulling my face tight, like my body’s bracing for impact that already passed.
Jesus Christ.
I yank my phone out with numb fingers and hit Tim’s number. If anyone needs to know what just went down, it’s him.
He’s been with me longer than anyone. Knows this place as well as I do.
He answers on the second ring.
“Boss—you good?” he asks, voice steady even through the crackle of the storm.
“Yeah, but some shit happened. Generator shorted. Threw sparks. Fire almost broke out,” I snap, then force myself to slow it down.
“Fuck. You need me?”
“No. I mean—I got it contained. I put it out.”
“Shit,” Tim mutters. “This storm’s only getting worse.”
“I know.” I glance back at the dark cabin, at Willow standing there with her backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes wide, face pale.
The sight tightens something ugly and protective in my chest.
“Power’s gone. Heat’s gone. That unit’s toast.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then, “What about Willow?” Tim asks immediately. “She alright? You need a place for her?”
That’s it.
That’s the moment it’s decided.
I lock eyes with her.
“No,” I say, not even hesitating. “She’s fine. She’s coming home with me.”
The words feel right the second they leave my mouth.
Solid. Certain.
Like there was never another option.
“Alright,” Tim replies, no argument. “I’ll get a crew out when the storm breaks. We’ll assess damage first light.”
“Good,” I say. “Lock down the yard and pull the overnight checks. I’ll handle the rest.”
“Copy that,” he says, then pauses. “You did good, boss.”
I hang up without replying.
Because my hands are still shaking.
Because fear is still crawling under my skin, sharp and relentless.
Because the idea of her alone out here—even for another minute—makes my chest feel like it’s caving in.
I stalk towards her, snow biting at my face, anger and relief and determination all colliding at once.
She’s safe.
She’s shaken.
And she’s not staying here another second.