“Don’t even think about it,” Noah bites out as he takes off his coat and starts the fire in the stove. “I will tie you up, Tiernan. I swear to God.”

And I close my eyes before planting myself at the window for the rest of the night, watching for Kaleb.

I yawn, my eyelids heavy and my arms like ten-ton weights. I put my hand on the anchor over my waist and realize it’s Noah’s arm as he spoons me in one of the beds. I blink the sleep away, nestled into his body and still dressed in my jeans, sweater, and wool socks.

“Hey,” he says in a sleepy voice.

I turn my head. “Is it over? The storm?”

“Yeah.” He tightens his hold on me. “Listen.”

I train my ears, hearing the steady drops hit the windows and tin roof, clanking against the windchime dangling off the front porch. It’s a different sound than snow.

Oh, my God. “It’s raining?”

“Right?” he jokes.

But the wind is gone, as well as the rocks of sleet that hit the small house last night.

Rain. Not snow, which means it’s not as cold.

“Will rain make the snow slippery, though?” I ask.

Noah rises and lets out a loud yawn. “It probably means we didn’t get much snow, actually.”

He leaves the bed and pulls on his shirt, and I sit up, tucking my hair behind my ears. How can he only be in his jeans? The fire helped, but it was still cold in here last night.

He slips on his jacket and tosses me some granola we packed before grabbing a rod. “Stay in bed, eat, and hydrate,” he says. “I’ll go catch some breakfast, and then we’ll head out.”

I stiffen. “We’re not going home.”

He opens the door, looking so tired. “I mean, head out to find him, babe.”

I relax, relieved. “Hey,” I call.

He turns and looks at me.

“Be careful.”

His eyes soften, and he gives me that smile.

Then he closes the door and leaves. The river runs behind the house, so he probably won’t go far, and I take the opportunity while he’s gone to go outside and relieve myself, melt some snow to wash up, and eat and hydrate like I’m told.

Putting on an extra pair of socks, I change my sweater and tie my hair up into a ponytail. I actually slept well because Noah kept me warm, but I think he insisted we share a bed because he was afraid I’d bolt in the middle of the night to find Kaleb.

I’m glad I didn’t try. Coming up here with just Noah was stupid enough. Going out alone would be suicide.

After washing the dishes we used and checking my boots by the fire to make sure they’re dry, I grab my pack to do a supply check.

But I see something move outside the window and stop.

I look up, squinting.

Dropping the pack, I walk over to the door and carefully twist the handle, opening it gently.

Calming my breathing, I peer out into the rain, opening the door wider and wider, cringing when the hinges creak, but I don’t want to scare it off.

I step out onto the porch, water spilling over the roof to the ground as the buck stands like a statue in front of me.

My chest swells. Wow.

His antlers stretch like a giant U over his head, splintering off into smaller branches as his large, brown eyes stare at me like he’s waiting for something.

The rain falls around us, his hooves buried in the snow, and I falter, feeling my gun behind me in the house. Jake would tell me to shoot him. We’re here without much food, and who knows if we’ll get snowed in tonight or tomorrow. I shouldn’t balk at meat where I can get it.

He’d be right.

I throw my arms out, though, and whisper-yell. “Go!”

He darts off, past me, and I follow him with my eyes to make sure he gets away before Noah can see him.

And then I spot something and freeze, locking eyes on Kaleb in the brush as he points his rifle at the white-tail.

My mouth falls open. Kaleb.

I faintly hear the deer’s trot disappear as Kaleb’s rifle stops at me, no longer following the animal as he peers through the scope. His lifts his head, steam billowing into the air from his mouth.

I blink to make sure I’m actually seeing him and not some hallucination. He wears a dark gray hoodie, black ski cap, and his jaw is covered with scruff. He stares at me, his arms falling to his sides, and his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

Absently, I step down the wet steps in my socks as he walks slowly toward me.

“Hi,” I say.

He stands there, and I’m not sure what to do. We found him. He’s fine.

I think.

I scan his body, making sure he hasn’t lost weight or isn’t injured.

Where the hell was he all night?

I don’t even care, though. His beautiful eyes. His cheekbones. His mouth and tanned neck that I know will be warm. Of course, he would have a tan in the winter.

I swallow. “Noah’s downstream, looking for breakfast,” I say in a low voice. “We were worried about you.”

He inches forward, and I drop my eyes to his ankles, seeing his jeans are soaked from the knees down.

“You missed Christmas,” I say.

Tears lodge in my throat. I’m desperate for him to talk. To want me like he did that night of the fire with Noah and that afternoon in the barn.

Most of all, I just want to see him.

I chew my lip. “Can you come home?” I whisper.

Just come home.

Let’s start over and be friends. I’ll be nice, you’ll be nice, and you don’t have to talk. We’ll laugh and work and go for walks and you can show me how to use the bow and arrow, and…

He rushes me, wrapping his arms around me, and only a whimper escapes before his mouth is on mine.

The world spins, and euphoria washes over me. He kisses me deep, his tongue dipping in and making my body scream from my head down to my toes. I circle his neck and kiss him back, too fucking high to go slow, because I’m starving.

“I love you, Kaleb,” I cry quietly. “I love you.”

He drops his rifle and carries me into the house, kicking the door closed behind us. We bite and kiss, coming back for more and more, and I pull off his sweatshirt and he kicks off his boots. I throw off my sweater and peel off my socks as he unfastens my jeans, our lips never leaving each other.

Let’s not be friends. Let’s fight and laugh and make babies someday and go insane, because I’m fucking in love with you.

He pulls away and lifts up my arm, inspecting the small piece of raised skin barely noticeable. “It’s okay,” I assure him. “You stitched me up well.”

I was injured the last time he saw me. Just a faint scar remains now.

He breathes hard, but his shoulders relax in relief. Taking my head in his hands, he kisses me hard, no tongue, just fierce and strong and possessive. He missed me.

We fall on the bed, his hair longer and hanging in his eyes as we get rid of our clothes and he settles between my thighs, already hot and hard. I hold his head in the crook of my neck, running my hands all over his body.

He slips inside me, and I wrap my arms tightly around him, afraid to let him go too far from me again. Forehead to forehead, he looks down into my eyes.

“There’s been no one since you,” I whisper.

Maybe he doesn’t need to hear it, but I want him to know.