I have to find shelter, and fast.

There’s only one place I know of that I can walk to. And right now, I don’t have any other choice.

The trees around me sway violently, their branches whipping through the air. The path back to the Truitt lodge is almost impossible to see in the downpour. But I know the way. I’ve walked through these woods plenty of times now.

I pull my jacket tighter around me, ducking my head against the wind, and start to make my way.

My stomach twists and turns. This might be a terrible idea, but what other choice did I have?

By the time I reach the edge of the property, I’m soaked to the bone, my teeth chattering with cold. The lodge looms ahead, its windows glowing with warm light,

I can’t believe I’m doing this, can’t believe I’m about to walk up to their door.

I climb the steps to the porch, and stand there for a moment, dripping and shivering, staring at the door. This is the last place I want to be, but I remind myself that there’s nowhere else to go.

I raise my hand and knock, the sound barely audible over the wind and rain. For a moment, there’s nothing—just the roar of the storm and the sound of my own ragged breathing. I knockagain and then, the door creaks open, and I find myself face to face with JT.

His eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, neither of us says anything. I’m sure I look like a drowned rat, standing there with water dripping from my hair, my clothes plastered to my skin.

But I don’t care about that. All I care about is getting out of this storm, getting warm, and figuring out what the hell I’m going to do next.

“I need shelter,” I manage to say, my voice is trembling from the cold, but also from the humiliation of having to ask him for help.

JT stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and I brace myself for the possibility that he might turn me away and send me back out into the storm. But then he steps aside, opening the door wider.

“Come in,” he says, his voice gruff but not unkind.

I step inside, the warmth of the lodge hitting me like a physical force, and I almost collapse with relief.

This place is no joke; it’s like something you’d see photographed in a magazine about dream vacation homes. The walls are paneled in rich, dark wood, fancy intricate rugs cover the wide plank floors. The living room is dominated by a massive stone fireplace, its hearth wide enough to stand in.

Did I just wander into some sort of mountain resort?

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“The storm broke my tent.”

“I’ll call a cab to take you into town.” He grabs his phone from the nearby table and starts dialing.

“JT, wait,” Ben says, stepping into the room. “She’s soaked to the bone. We can’t just send her back out there. It’s too dangerous. And I doubt anyone will drive out here to come get her. You’re not in fucking California.”

“She’s not staying here,” JT snaps, his gaze hardening. “We’ve got enough problems without her snooping around.”

My back stiffens at his words.

This was a mistake. Maybe I would’ve stood a better chance with the storm outside.

Hank meanders in then, his emotions impossible to read, but his gaze jumps from me to his brothers. All three of them study me intently. I shift uncomfortably on my feet, feeling incredibly self-conscious.

“JT, Ben’s right,” Hank finally says. “We can’t let her die out there. The storm is getting worse. We’ll just have to keep an eye on her.”

The three of them engage in a silent standoff, each one giving the other steely glares. I stand there, dripping water on their expensive-looking rug, feeling like an unwanted puppy.

“Fine,” J.T. growls at last, slamming his phone down on the table. “But she’s not wandering around this house. Hank, take her upstairs to the guest bedroom. Make sure she stays put.”

Hank nods and steps forward, his expression softening slightly as he looks at me. “Come on, let’s get you out of those wet clothes and into something dry.”

I follow him up the stairs, my legs feel like lead, each step a Herculean effort. All I want to do is crawl into a warm bed and sleep.