4. Thorne
FOUR
THORNE
The cabin is quiet except for the soft crackle of the dying fire in the living room and the occasional pop of a log settling.
I stand in the doorway of the bedroom, arms crossed over my chest, watching Sadie sleep.
She lies curled on her side under the thick navy quilt, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, her dark hair spilling across my pillow like ink on snow.
Her breathing is slow and even now, no longer the shallow, frightened gasps I heard when I first found her half-buried in the snow.
The sight of her there, small and trusting in my bed, does something strange to my chest. It tightens.
It aches. It feels like something I’ve never allowed myself to feel before.
I’ve never felt anything like this.
It’s not just the instinct to protect a vulnerable person.
I have done that plenty of times on the mountain.
I’ve carried injured hikers, tracked lost children, and brought them back to safety without a second thought.
This is deeper. Stronger. A raw, instinctive need to keep her safe that started the moment I lifted her out of that drift and felt how small and cold she was in my arms. She’s running from something bad enough to make her risk death in a blizzard rather than face it.
I need to know what it is. I need to make sure it never touches her again.
I pull my phone from my pocket and step into the hallway so I don’t wake her. The floorboards creak softly under my weight. Gavin answers on the second ring, his voice thick with sleep.
“Thorne? It’s late.”
“I know. I need you to look into a name for me. Sadie Calloway. She’s the woman I pulled out of the storm tonight. She’s in bad shape. I want to know why she was running. Why she was so close to dying when I found her. Dig as deep as you can without setting off any alarms.”
Gavin is quiet for a beat. I can almost hear him sitting up in bed. “You think she’s in real trouble?”
“I know she is. She was terrified even before the cold got to her. I want to keep her safe, but I cannot do that blind.”
“Give me a few hours. I’ll pull what I can and get back to you in the morning.”
“Thanks.”
I end the call and slip the phone back into my pocket.
The need to protect her sits heavy in my chest, unfamiliar and uncomfortable.
I have spent years keeping my distance, doing my job, disappearing into the woods when things get too loud.
People are liabilities. Feelings are distractions. That has always been my rule.
But Sadie walked into my life half-frozen and scared, and something inside me shifted. I can’t explain it. I only know I won’t let anyone hurt her again.
I move back to the bedroom doorway and lean against the frame, watching her sleep.
The firelight from the living room paints soft shadows across her face.
She looks smaller in my bed. Fragile. But there’s strength in her too.
She made it this far on her own through a storm that would have killed most people. That means something.
She stirs suddenly, a small whimper escaping her lips. Her brow furrows. Her hand reaches out across the empty side of the bed like she’s searching for something. Or someone.
I cross the room without thinking and sit on the edge of the mattress. “Hey,” I say softly. “You’re safe. It’s just me.”
Her eyes flutter open, wide and frightened for a moment. Then recognition settles in. She looks at me like I’m the only solid thing left in her world.
“Thorne,” she whispers.
“Yeah. I’m right here.”
She reaches for my hand. Her fingers are still cool from the cold she endured earlier. I take her hand without hesitation and thread my fingers through hers.
“Stay,” she says, voice small and vulnerable. “Please. I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Everything in me tightens. I know I should refuse. I should keep that careful distance I have always maintained. But the fear in her eyes and the way her hand trembles in mine make the decision for me.
I kick off my boots and slide under the quilt beside her, still fully dressed. She moves closer immediately, curling into my side like she belongs there. Her head rests on my chest. One of her legs drapes over mine. I wrap my arm around her and pull her in tighter, my hand resting on her back.
Her body relaxes against me almost instantly. She lets out a soft sigh and snuggles closer, her fingers curling into my shirt. I can feel her heartbeat against my ribs, steady now, no longer racing with terror.
My own heart is beating out of my chest.
I have never felt anything like this. This deep, instinctive need to shield her. To keep her close. To make sure nothing in the world can touch her again. It’s not just protectiveness. It’s something heavier. Something that feels a lot like the beginning of love.
I stare at the ceiling beams and listen to her breathing even out. She falls back asleep quickly, safe in my arms. I stay awake, holding her, feeling the unfamiliar weight of her trust pressed against me.
Whatever she’s running from, whatever put that fear in her eyes, I’ll face it with her. I’ll stand between her and anything that tries to hurt her.
Because right now, with Sadie warm and trusting in my arms, I know one thing with absolute certainty.
She’s mine to protect.
And I’m never letting her go.