EVE
“Is this really happening?” He moves slightly, and I see blood in his dark, wavy hair. He groans again, as if in response to my voice, and I quickly try to sort out how to drag him inside.
It’s not like I have any choice. Otherwise there will be a corpse on my porch come morning.
Thinking fast, I roll him over—it takes some effort, he’s really heavy—and then grab the bottom of his coat and use it to drag him inside. The tough leather creaks as I grunt and strain, too aware of the icy air flowing into my home. It takes me several seconds of stopping to rest and then heaving backward again, my shoulders cracking from the strain and the cold with every pull.
Finally, I drag him in enough to shut the door, then get him by the pellet stove to warm up. By then my arms are numb with exhau
