Page 30 of A Killing Cold

“We haven’t talked about it,” I say. Yet another thing we haven’t hadthe time to get to. “I don’t know. I’ve always assumed I wouldn’t want any.”

“Any particular reason?” he asks. It should feel intrusive, but he just sounds curious.

“I didn’t exactly have the best upbringing,” I say. “I know plenty of people with great parents, but it doesn’t feel real to me. Like that could be a happy thing.”

“I always wanted kids,” he says. “My dad was always on me about having sons, that old-fashioned ‘carry on the family name’ thing, but I hoped we’d have girls. Of course I didn’t exactly predict what havingteenagegirls would be like.” He sounds rueful, and I’m pretty sure I can guess the ages of his daughters.

“Sounds like you’re in the thick of it,” I say.

“Doesn’t help that their mom and I split recently,” he says. “They’re still pretty pissed about that.”

“I’m sorry,” I say awkwardly.

He waves a hand. “It is what it is. These things have got to work themselves out.”

Beside me, Sebastian stirs. He wipes his nose on his sleeve and blinks up at us. “Can we go home now?” Sebastian asks. “I’m hungry.”

“Come on. We’ll head up to the lodge. Get you something to eat there,” Nick says with a huff. I get up, wiping my palms on my jeans nervously. Nick was around back then, of course he was. He has to know who that girl was.

Who I am.

Sebastian’s shoes are still wet. Nick leaves them by the woodstove and we make sure Sebastian’s feet are bundled up in the blanket as I carry him—Nick offers this time, but Sebastian clings to me.

As we approach the lodge, several questions are answered all at once. Olena’s voice reaches us first, high-pitched and frantic.

“What if he got lost? It’s freezing out here! It’s literally freezing! I can’t believe—”

Another voice answers her, masculine but too quiet to make out; itsounds like someone trying to calm her down. Or at least shut her up. I have a pretty good guess about who it is, and I’m proven right as soon as we step out of the stand of trees to discover Olena, hair mussed and face blotchy with tears, and Trevor, his hands on her arms and wearing an expression of mingled stress and annoyance. Olena spots us—and Sebastian—first, and lets out a cry, rushing toward us.

“Sebastian! You’re okay!” she says.

Trevor rocks his weight back on a heel, eyes lazy as he looks us over. The set of his jaw betrays tension, despite his unconcerned expression. “Told you he was fine,” he says.

Olena is touching Sebastian all over, like she needs to press her palms to him to prove she was worried, to feel like she’s doing something.

“I only turned away for a moment and he must have taken off. I’ve been looking all over for him—” she begins.

“He’s been with us for, what, fifteen minutes?” Nick asks me. I give a mute nod. “Must’ve been wandering longer than that, given how cold he was.”

Olena wrings her hands, grip twisting around her index finger. Strands of her dark hair stick to her tearstained cheeks. “I got distracted.”

Trevor’s hands are in his pockets. He meets my eye and shrugs slowly. Nick makes a disdainful noise, and Olena bites her lip.

“Please don’t—Mrs. Dalton will fire me,” she says. “He’s okay, right? So you don’t have to—we don’t have to tell—”

“Why didn’t you get help?” I ask, not taking my eyes off Trevor. “Why are only the two of you out here looking for him?”

“I was going to. I…” She trails off. Glances back at Trevor.

“Figured we’d probably find him ourselves. Not like he could have gotten far,” Trevor says, seemingly unconcerned. “No use causing a huge fuss.”

“The kid could have died,” Nick says, a growl in his voice.

“But he’s fine,” Trevor replies. “Right?” A faint quaver in his voice betrays his uncertainty.

“No thanks to you,” Nick says.

“Hey, it wasn’t my job to watch him.” Trevor looks over his shoulder, back toward the lodge. “If we’re done here…”

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