Page 9 of Awakening the Wild
She looked at me then, really looked at me, and something shifted between us. Two broken people recognizing the damagein each other—but also the survival. The strength. The stubborn refusal to let our pasts define our futures.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked softly. "Really. You don't know me. You owe me nothing."
Because you're mine. Because from the moment I found you in that storm, something in my chest claimed you. Because I see in you what my brothers saw in me—someone worth saving, worth fighting for.
But I couldn't say any of that. Not yet. So instead, I said, "Because I know what it's like to need help and have no one to turn to. And because sometimes the family you choose is the only family worth having."
"Is that what this is? You choosing me?"
"Maybe," I admitted. "Or maybe you chose me when you decided to trust a stranger who looks like he could snap you in half."
She smiled then, small but genuine. "You wouldn't hurt me."
"No," I agreed. "I wouldn't. Ever.”
She finished her wine and hid a yawn.
“You should get some sleep. There’s a spare bedroom right off the bathroom. I made it up while you were in the shower. It’s the room with the red quilt."
She nodded but didn't move. "Kevin?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For helping me. For this." She gestured around. "I know you didn't have to."
"Anyone would have done the same."
"No," she said. "They wouldn't have."
TONYA
Lightning still flashed outside, illuminating the darkness in stark bursts, but I felt safe here in Kevin's house. Safer than I'd felt in years.
I should have been thinking about my grandmother's cottage, or about the blown engine on my car. I should have been planning my next move, figuring out how to salvage my escape from Michael's control.
Instead, I was thinking about the man downstairs. The way he'd looked at me across the dinner table like he was on my side. The way his hands had felt on my waist had been so gentle, despite their obvious strength. The way his hoodie smelled like him and it was so comforting to me.
Michael had never made me feel like this—safe and protected and wanted all at once. With Michael, I'd always felt like I was auditioning for the role of perfect girlfriend, perfect fiancée, perfect future wife. But I was always falling short, always needing to be fixed or improved or controlled.
Kevin looked at me like I was already perfect exactly as I was.
It warmed me up inside almost as much as the beef stew and his hoodie I never wanted to take off. Settling into the comfortable bed, surrounded by Kevin's scent on the pillows and blankets, I closed my eyes. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new decisions to make. Even as the thunder continued to crash overhead and the house creaked around me, sleep came easily.
When I woke up the next morning. It was still gray and drizzly. The storm had finally moved off. I had three bars on my cell phone, but no one to call. The smell of coffee and bacon led me back to the kitchen where Kevin was cooking breakfast.
"Morning," he said, glancing up as I appeared in the doorway. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than I have in months." I accepted the mug of coffee he offered, inhaling the rich aroma. "Thank you."
"We should go check on your grandmother's cottage this morning," he said. "See what we're dealing with."
Right. The cottage. My inheritance. My supposed fresh start.
"What if it's not livable?" I asked.
Kevin's dark eyes met mine over his coffee mug. "Then we'll figure something else out."
We. Like he planned to help me, whatever I decided to do. Like I wasn't just a temporary inconvenience in his carefully ordered life.
