Page 29 of Out of the Cold

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Donnelly,” she said, moving to the woman’s bedside. “May I ask you a few questions?”

His mother smiled weakly and nodded her head.

“Does it hurt to breathe?” she asked.

Another nod, and then more coughing.

“I think you would have an easier time if you had pillows behind you. Is it okay if we raise you up a bit?” she asked.

“Dr. Murphy said I need to lie down.”

“Your working too hard like this. There’s a better chance of you coughing up what’s in your lungs if you’re raised. It can’t hurt, and it may help.”

“Of course,” Mick said, moving to his mother’s head. “We’ll do whatever you say.”

His trust was a gift, but he was also desperate and scared. She couldn’t fail them, and the weight of responsibility was heavy on her shoulders.

Lucy looked up when Hilde whined.

It was nearly eight o’clock, later than she’d realized. She was so immersed in her story, she hadn’t even finished her coffee. Getting up, she grabbed a muffin and a water bottle, pulled on her coat, and snapped the leash on Hilde.

She’d grown to love how sharp everything looked—the dark line of the cabin against the sky, crows crisscrossing their own shadows, so dark you could see them flying from tree to tree in any light, their rough call somehow lonely and welcoming all at once.

There was always something new to discover up here, and while that was sometimes frightening, it was also frequently lovely.

They were halfway down the driveway when she stopped. Were they really any safer from mountain lions on the road than on one of the trails? They’d been walking on the road for weeks now, and it was getting a little old. Hilde deserved some new smells, and she hadn’t heard the mountain lion since that first night. It could be miles away by now.

But she should still be prepared.

She scouted around for a few decent-sized rocks and put them in her pockets. Thus armed, they headed across the bridge and around Gabriel’s cabin. She was grateful to see he wasn’t outside. The only sign of life was the smoke from the chimney.

The trailhead was marked on either side with two stakes painted orange. Entering the shade of the trees, the temperature dropped even more, and the smells of the forest—leaves and rotting wood, pine and plant life—enveloped her.

She removed Hilde’s leash and the dog shot ahead, nose to the ground.

There were birds calling above her, but she couldn’t have said what kind they were. The trail curved to the right up ahead and Hilde was out of sight in seconds. A minute later, the dog came circling back before running off again with her boundless energy.

Something moved off to her right, rustling the leaves. Lucy put her hand in her pocket, ready to throw a rock, only to see one squirrel chase another up a nearby tree. She let out a long breath and looked around before moving forward again.

She walked for another fifteen minutes, sure that a mountain lion would leap out at any moment. Maybe they didn’t typically come out in the daytime, but there were always exceptions for everything. Would it be attracted by Hilde, or more likely to stay away because of her?

She imagined a mountain lion’s jaws tearing into her loyal dog. Then she imagined the jaws tearing into her. What had she been thinking, coming out here? This was torture.

Was it possible to conquer fear through pure repetition? Maybe if she did this every day, she’d stop being so nervous.

Assuming she wasn’t mauled first.

Her heart beat fast and light as she continued to climb. She reached an open rocky area where she could see down into a little ravine.

She hadn’t covered much distance, but it was enough for one day. She’d go farther next time.

Calling out for Hilde, she turned back the way they’d come.

The dog came tearing out of the woods and ran a circle around her, her body tipped horizontally. Laughing, Lucy picked up a stick and tossed it down the trail. Hilde shot after it, then trotted back toward her with the stick in her jaws so Lucy could throw it again.

They came off the trail and around the cabin to find Gabriel standing over his truck with the hood up, looking at the engine. Damn him for looking so good in the Henley that outlined his truly spectacular arms and chest.

She hadn’t spoken to him since the day in the café a week ago, and she didn’t want to now, either. She could never quite get her footing around him—he blew so hot and cold.

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