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“Don’t patronize me,” I snapped, vexed at his change of tack. The version of Eli who’d soothed my tears and guided me into the hut was nothing like the mutated adaptation standing in front of me. That version reminded me of James’s chauvinism.

“I’m looking after you.” He articulated the words slowly as though I wouldn’t understand. “I told you that before.”

I considered countering that I didn’t need to be looked after, but that regular comeback didn’t have much clout in the snow-laden environment we’d been forced to take refuge from. The depressing truth was that while we remained trapped there in the ranger’s lodge, I did need him.

Eli had an air of authority about him that had been alluring right from the start. He’d been the guide—the guy who knew which way we should go—but there had been more than only that. There was a surety about him that spoke to my inner child. It assured me that even when he was in trouble, he’d have a plan to put my needs first. Even though the plight of James, Miles, and Chelle didn’t necessarily support the conclusion, I was still certain of his sincerity. He would do everything he could to keep me safe.

“So, what now?” I sensed the fight in me slipping away as he trudged over from the bed. My limbs were warmer in front of the fire, and for the time being, that represented a considerable advance on being stuck out in the freezing weather.

Like Chelle.

Flinching as the thought of her popped into my head again, my focus flitted to the flames. She was out there somewhere. She might still be alone, and if she was, she’d be hungry and desperate.

Please let someone have found her.I tightened the grip on the edge of the blanket.Please, God, look after her.

“Now, we eat.” He dragged the plastic box on top of the small table over to him and pulled open the lid.

“What is there to eat?” If that was the pantry in the place, I couldn’t believe the answer would enthrall me.

“Not much,” he admitted. “A few tins and a packet of long-life biscuits.”

“Sounds exciting.” My belly twisted in anticipation. It had been hours since we’d eaten, and the idea of food was a good one. “How about the lunch we brought along?” My gaze landed on my open pack. “I have sandwiches and fruit.”

“Good idea.” He strode toward my bag and turned to glance my way. “We should ration the food, though. We could be holed up here for a while.”

“Okay.” I didn’t love the idea of the smaller portions, but on a practical level, what he said made sense. We hoped the snow would pass quickly, but we didn’t know anything for sure. It was sound planning to save something for later. “I packed four sandwiches. How about one each now?”

“You’re prepared to share with me?” His dark eyebrow cocked as though he couldn’t believe I’d entertain the idea.

Snorting, I laughed. “I’m not a monster! You’re sharing this place with me, so yeah, I’ll give you a sandwich.”

“Well, thank you.” Finding the foil housing my lunch, his lips tugged into a smile. “Chuck the clothes on the floor in front of the fire. They’ll still dry, but you can relax on the chair while you eat.”

Moving toward the uncomfortable-looking seat, I wasn’t sure anyone couldrelaxon it, but I took his suggestion, draping the wet garments on the ground closer to the flames before I perched on the chair. “What about you?”

“I’ll sit on the end of the bed.”

He motioned to the structure as if I didn’t know where the bed was, and following his lead, my gaze landed on the blanket-covered bedstead. A relatively small double with two disappointing-looking pillows, the prospect of sleeping there didn’t captivate me, but it was only when I scanned the structure that the real problem with the thing smacked me in the face.

“There’s only one bed...” I mumbled the words aloud as though I couldn’t believe the reality hadn’t dawned on me before.

One bed was a problem.

One bed meant only one of us could sleep there.

How could I have been so naïve? The solitary chair should have been evidence enough that the place had only been designed for one person, but somehow, the inevitable conclusion hadn’t occurred to me until that moment.

“Of course.” He tilted his head at my inane comment. “Don’t worry, I won’t get sandwich crumbs on it.”

“Who’s going to sleep in it, though?” Suddenly, it seemed to be the most important matter in the world.

Never mind about Chelle, or the snow, or the other terrible things that had happened that day. In the firelight, my only focus was the strange little bed and whether or not I was going to get any sleep.

“I sense you’d rather not share the bed.” Moving toward me, he thrust a sandwich in my direction.

“I...” Meeting his eyes, I tried to discern if he was being sarcastic. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Right.” He pressed his lips into a hard line as he retreated to settle on the end of the bed. Peering at the sandwich, his gaze darted to me. “What’s in this?”

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