Hayden POV
The sky is still bleeding gold when Reeva and I reach Greta’s cottage. Smoke curls lazily from the chimney, carrying the smell of thyme and something sweet. Reeva stifles a yawn, and I pretend not to notice.
After our intimate moment in the lake, we went to the cave and climbed into bed, but neither of us could fall asleep. She was worrying about Wyatt, and I … well, I have this nagging feeling our time together is coming to an end.
We get out of the truck, and the front door opens. Greta stands in the doorway, wrapped in a faded shawl the colour of storm clouds.
“You came early,” she says. “Sunrise is an impolite hour.”
“I couldn’t wait any longer,” Reeva replies, her body stiff with tension. “How’s he doing?”
“Come on in,” Greta says, avoiding answering the question dire
