Page 6 of Curvy Girl and the Mountain Man Wolf
I close the book now, running my fingers over the worn cover. It's clearly been read many times, the spine cracked in multiple places, the pages soft with handling. I glance up to find Kane watching us from his position by the window, his massive silhouette outlined against the darkness outside. When our eyes meet, he quickly looks away, as if caught doing something shameful.
"She's asleep," I say softly, unnecessarily. I'm sure he noticed the moment Lily drifted off. There's something about him—a hyperawareness, an animal alertness—that makes me think he notices everything.
He nods without speaking, then moves toward a trunk near the far wall. His movements are strangely graceful for such a large man, soundless despite his size. He opens the trunk and pulls out some blankets and a pillow.
"Bedroom's through there," he says, nodding toward a door on the far side of the cabin. "Bathroom's attached. There's extra blankets in the closet if you need them."
"Thank you," I say, the words feeling inadequate for what he's doing for us. "I know this is an imposition—"
"It's fine." His response is curt, cutting me off.
I should let it go, but something makes me press on. "No, it's not. You clearly value your privacy, and we've invaded it. I just want you to know how grateful I am."
He stands there, blankets in his massive arms, looking uncomfortable with my gratitude. "Anyone would do the same."
But that's not true, and we both know it. Not everyone would open their home to strangers in a storm. Not everyone would give up their bed, share their food, offer their books. Especially not someone who's gone to such lengths to avoid human contact.
"Why do you live up here all alone?" The question slips out before I can stop it. I blame exhaustion, the day's stress breaking down my usual filters.
Kane goes still, so still that for a moment I think he might not have heard me. But then his jaw tightens beneath his beard.
"It's better this way," he finally says, his voice low and rough. "For everyone."
The answer raises more questions than it answers, but I don't push. He's already done more than I had any right to expect. The least I can do is respect his boundaries.
"Well, I should get Lily to bed," I say, gently shifting my daughter in my arms. She mumbles something in her sleep but doesn't wake.
Kane moves forward, then stops, as if catching himself. "Do you... need help?"
I'm about to say no, but Lily is getting heavy, and I'm exhausted. "Actually, yes. Thank you."
He approaches cautiously, like we're wild animals that might bolt, and takes Lily from my arms. She looks tiny against his broad chest, her head lolling against his shoulder.
I lead the way to the bedroom, pushing open the door to reveal a surprisingly comfortable-looking space. A large bed dominates the room, covered in a handmade quilt in deep blues and greens. There's a dresser, a small bookshelf filled with more books, and a door that presumably leads to the bathroom. The room is neat, almost spartan, but not unwelcoming.
Kane lays Lily gently on the bed, stepping back immediately as if afraid to linger. I pull off her boots and tuck her under the quilt, brushing her hair back from her face. She sighs in her sleep, turning to nestle into the pillow.
"She'll be okay," Kane says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Kids are resilient."
I look up at him, surprised by the insight. "Yes, they are. But they shouldn't have to be."
"Bathroom's got everything you should need," he says, returning to practicalities. "Towels, soap. Water's from a well, pump's electric but there's a generator if the power goes out."
"You've thought of everything," I observe.
"Have to, up here." He moves toward the door. "I'll be in the main room if you need anything."
"Kane," I call softly as he reaches the doorway. He pauses without turning. "Thank you. For everything."
He gives a short nod, then pulls the door closed behind him.
Alone with Lily, I let out a long breath I didn't realize I was holding. The events of the day crash over me… The long drive, getting lost, the car breaking down, the terrifying walk through the blizzard. We could have died out there. Would have, if not for finding this cabin. Finding Kane.
I move to the window, pulling back the thick curtain to look outside. The snow is still falling heavily, the world beyond theglass a swirling void of white. Somewhere out there is my car, probably already buried. Somewhere beyond that is Cedar Falls, and the job interview that was supposed to be our fresh start. Now everything is uncertain again.
With a sigh, I close the curtain and turn to the small bathroom. It's basic but clean—a shower stall, a sink, a toilet. There's a stack of towels on a shelf, along with soap, shampoo, and other necessities. I wash my face with cold water, trying to clear my head. In the mirror above the sink, a tired woman with shadows under her eyes stares back at me. I barely recognize myself.
After using the bathroom, I return to the bedroom and quietly change into the only clean clothes I have left, a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt I use as pajamas. I should have grabbed more when we left Denver, but I wasn't thinking clearly. All I wanted was to get Lily away from there, away from the image of Derek and Sarah in our bed.
