Chapter 5
Hannah
An engine wakes me.
I open my eyes to wood-paneled walls and sunlight, and for one disorienting second, I have no idea where I am.
Then I remember. Professor Bennett’s cabin.
Outside, a truck door slams.
I roll over and squint at the clock.
12:08.
“Holy shit.”
I throw back the blankets and hurry to the window. Through a narrow gap in the shutters, I see a truck parked in the clearing.
And Torin. He’s unloading a bunch of boxes from the back of his truck and carrying them to the porch, two at a time.
His dark hair is tied back today, showing off the strong line of his jaw, and his T-shirt stretches across shoulders that seem unnecessarily broad even for someone who spends part of his life as a grizzly bear.
I watch his biceps flex as he reaches into the truck for another box, enjoying the view for several seconds before it occurs to me that if Torin looks like that in daylight, I should probably find out what I look like.
I duck away from the window.
Five minutes later, I’ve brushed my teeth, dragged a brush through my hair and changed back into last night’s jeans and T-shirt. It isn’t exactly how I’d choose to look the first time Torin sees me in daylight, but I can’t exactly pretend I’d just dashed out for something.
When I step outside, Torin is halfway up the porch steps carrying another box.
“Morning.”
Torin looks up and does a double take.
Oh, my hair. I run a hand through it self-consciously. “It was dyed. Before.”
His gaze moves over my curls, and a smile spreads across his face.
“This is your real color?”
“Yeah.”
“I like it.”
“You do?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks.
He keeps looking at me as he comes up the steps, clearly pleased by what he sees.
“And how are you feeling?”
“Like I drove into a tree.”
His gaze travels over my face, lingering on my swollen nose and the bruise along my jaw. “You look better.”
“Wow, keep talking like that and you’ll sweep me off my feet.”
“I meant better than last night.”
“I know.”
“And you do.”
The teasing fades from his voice on the last words.
I look away first. Take in the boxes piled beside the door, then back at him. “What’s all this?”
“Stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Very descriptive.”
His mouth twitches. “Food. Painkillers. Couple other things I thought you might need.”
“That is a lot of food.”
“I wasn’t sure what you liked.”
He says it so casually. As if, when faced with the problem of buying groceries for a woman he barely knows, the obvious solution was to buy enough different things that I could choose.
“Want me to bring it in?” he asks. “Or I can leave everything here.”
“Bring it in. Please.”
“Sure.”
He picks up two boxes and carries them through to the kitchen while I grab one of the bags.
He sets the boxes on the counter and starts unpacking. There’s bread, eggs, bacon, milk, coffee, fruit, pasta, cheese, yogurt, several kinds of cereal and enough snacks to stock a gas station.
I pick up two different jars of peanut butter.
“Were you expecting another natural disaster?”
“Didn’t know if you liked smooth or crunchy.”
I stare at him. “So, you bought both?”
“Seemed easier than guessing.” He shrugs. “Hey, there are painkillers in that bag.”
“Oh, thank goodness.”
I find the Advil, shake two tablets into my palm and reach for a glass.
“You hungry?”
I ate right before bed, but that was hours ago. “Yeah.”
He reaches for the eggs and bacon.
“What are you doing?”
“Feeding you.”
“You know I can cook my own breakfast.”
“Can you?” His expression is perfectly innocent.
I narrow my eyes. “Yes.”
“Good to know.”
“But if someone else is offering…”
“That’s what I thought.”
He pulls out a frying pan and sets it on the stove like he’s done it a hundred times before.
“You been here before?”
“Nope.” He lights the flame. “Why?”
“You just seem awful comfortable here.”
He tosses me a grin. “Guess I’m just comfortable in a kitchen. And they’re not rocket science. Everyone keeps the same shit in the same places.”
I shrug. “Do they?”
“Yeah. Trust me.”
I blink. I haven’t had a ton of experience of different kitchens. Just my dad’s chaos, followed by college dorm chaos.
I watch as he opens the bacon and drops it in the pan with a hiss. Then he cracks eggs into a bowl, slides them into the pan as well. He wields the spatula effortlessly.
Torin glances up and catches me looking.
Heat creeps into my face.
“You want coffee?” I ask.
A smile tugs at his mouth. “Sure.”
I turn to the coffee machine.
Professor Bennett has the same model in his office, and I’ve seen him wrestling with it enough times to figure it out. It hisses and splutters for a few seconds before deciding to cooperate.
“You take sugar?” I ask over my shoulder.
“No.”
“Milk?”
“Yeah.”
I make two mugs and hand his over.
Our fingers brush.
The same current shoots through me.
I jerk, sloshing coffee toward the rim, but Torin steadies the mug before I can drop it.
His hand stays over mine on the handle.
I look up. He’s watching me, a flicker of gold in his eyes.
“Still think that’s static?” I ask.
One corner of his mouth lifts. “Starting to have my doubts.”
He turns back to the stove before I can ask what the hell that means.
A minute later, he puts a plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of me, then grabs his own.
“Go ahead. Eat.”
We sit across from each other at the little kitchen table.
I take a bite. God. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.
“This is really good,” I say after I’ve swallowed. “You cook a lot?”
“Every day.”
“Really?”
“Nobody else is going to do it right now.”
Something about the answer makes me glance up. “You don’t live alone?”
“No. My younger brother’s with me at the moment.”
Oh.
I’m ridiculously pleased to hear that.
“He doesn’t cook?”
Torin laughs. “Orson? Only if dragging something dead home counts.”
My fork stops halfway to my mouth.
Torin notices. “Too much?”
“No, it’s okay. I’m still getting used to…” I wave my fork vaguely at him. “All of this.”
“Bears?”
“People being bears.” I take another bite, but when I look up, he’s watching me more carefully now.
“You haven’t been around shifters long.”
It’s a statement rather than a question.
“No.”
His brow furrows. “But East Ridge—”
My stomach tightens. “I don’t really know them,” I say at last.
Torin nods and takes another bite of his breakfast.
I wait for the obvious questions. Why was I at East Ridge, then? Whose mating dress was I wearing? Why was I running away in the middle of the night?
He doesn’t ask any of them.
I pick at the edge of my toast.
“My father arranged it,” I say.
Torin looks up.
“The mating.”
His fork comes to rest on his plate. “You didn’t want it.”
It isn’t a question.
“No.”
A hard look flickers across his face, but when he speaks, his voice is calm. “Okay.”
I study him.
“You’re very good at this.”
“At breakfast?”
“Getting people to talk.”
He smiles. “I like hearing what people have to say.”
“Even complete strangers you find wrapped around trees?”
“Especially them. They usually have good stories.”
I laugh. “Is that why you’re so nosy?”
“Probably. I studied psychology too.”
I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Got my bachelor’s online.”
“Why psychology?”
“I’m interested in people.” He takes a drink of coffee. “Why they do what they do. Why two people can go through the same thing and come out completely different. Why somebody can tell you they’re fine when you can see from twenty feet away they’re anything but.”
I narrow my eyes. “Was that last one aimed at me?”
“Maybe a little.”
I raise an eyebrow. “So you are secretly analyzing me.”
“Nah.” He reaches for another piece of toast. “I’d rather get to know you.”
Oh.
I look down at my plate, hiding the smile that’s trying to appear.
“Journalism.”
His eyebrows lift. “Seriously?”
I smile. “Why do you sound so impressed?”
“I am impressed. What kind?”
“I wanted to do investigative reporting.”
“Wanted?”
“I still do.”
“Then you will.”
I look up at him.
He tears off a piece of toast. “What kind of stories?”
“Corruption. Cover-ups. The things people work hard to keep buried.”
His gaze sharpens.
I turn my coffee mug between my hands.
“I was working on something before I left.”
Torin waits.
“Women have been disappearing around my hometown. Some of them were eventually found dead. Animal attacks, accidents, overdoses. At least, that’s what the official reports say.”
Torin goes very still.
“I started looking into the cases for a college project. Then I found connections between them that weren’t supposed to be there. Reports had been changed. Evidence went missing. People who should have been interviewed weren’t.”
“And East Ridge?”
I hesitate.
“They’re part of it.”
His jaw tightens. “What part?”
“I don’t know exactly. That’s one of the things I was trying to prove.”
Torin nods. “That makes sense.”
I blink at him.
“My father found out what I was doing.”
Torin’s eyes settle on mine.
“He’s the sheriff.”
For several seconds he says nothing.
“Fuck.”
A laugh escapes me, although nothing about this is funny. “Yeah.”
I wrap both hands around my coffee mug.
“He told me I was getting too close to things I didn’t understand. That I was putting myself in danger. Then suddenly he’d arranged for me to be mated to Cade.”
“Cade Walker?”
I look up sharply. “You know him?”
“I know who he is.”
From Torin’s expression, that’s not a recommendation.
“He said it was for my protection.” I hear Dad’s voice as clearly as if he’s sitting beside me. “I’d be safe at East Ridge. Cade would take care of me. I wouldn’t have to worry about any of this anymore.”
Torin’s face has become frighteningly blank.
“But you knew why he was doing it,” he says.
“Oh, yeah.”
Silence stretches between us.
I look down at my coffee.
“I have copies of everything I found. That’s what’s in the backpack.”
Torin glances toward it. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Publish it.”
That answer, at least, is easy.
“I don’t know how yet. My father has spent years making inconvenient things disappear, so sending it to the wrong person could make everything worse. But I’m not letting him bury it.”
Torin nods slowly. “Good.”
I look at him.
“Good?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t think I’m insane?”
“No.”
“You’ve known me for less than a day.”
“Long enough to know you risked a hell of a lot to get that evidence out.”
I stare at him.
Torin picks up his coffee. “Seems like you already made your decision.”
I’m so used to being told I’m reckless, na?ve or in over my head that his simple confidence in me takes a moment to sink in.
My throat tightens unexpectedly. I take a drink of coffee to cover it.
Torin’s quiet for a moment, then he says, “So what’s next?”
“I stay here for a while. Work out who I can trust with the files.”
“And your father?”
“He’ll be looking for me.”
His expression changes.
“And the truck,” I add. “He’ll be looking for that too.”
“Yeah.” Torin sets down his mug. “I need to move it.”
I’d managed to forget about the truck for almost ten whole minutes.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“Because you’re hurt.”
“I can walk.”
“I’ve seen you walk.”
“Rude.”
“Accurate.”
I try not to smile.
Torin’s expression softens. “Stay here today, Hannah. Get some rest. I’ll take the plates off the truck and move it somewhere nobody’s going to stumble across it. Then I’ll figure out what it’ll take to get it running again.”
I let out a breath. The idea of letting somebody else deal with it sounds pretty damn good.
Still. “You don’t have to keep fixing my problems.”
“I know.”
I blink.
He says it like that’s all there is to it.
I glance toward the window, then back at Torin.
“What if I need something?”
The question is out before I can stop it.
Torin looks at me, and I brace myself for the smile.
It doesn’t arrive.
“I’ll be back this afternoon.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I know that too.”
I shake my head. “You’re impossible.”
His grin flashes as he stands and reaches for his keys. “Lock the door after me.”
He gets as far as the doorway before looking back.
“I won’t tell anyone you’re here, Hannah. And whatever happens next, you don’t have to handle it by yourself.”
I nod as something tightens in my chest.
Then he’s gone.
I listen to his footsteps cross the porch and the truck start outside. By the time the sound disappears down the mountain, I’m still standing in the kitchen.
I don’t have to handle this by myself.
I’m not sure anyone has ever said this to me before.