Morning crept into the cabin reluctantly, pale and unsure, filtered through frost-laced windows and heavy clouds that refused to lift. The blizzard had not loosened its grip. If anything, it had dug in deeper, snow piled high against the porch railings, the world outside reduced to white silence and howling wind.
Jeremiah had been awake for hours.
He lay staring at the ceiling long after dawn should have broken, listening to the soft whistle of wind through the cracks in the old cabin, listening to the steady rhythm of Daisy’s breathing down the hall. His mind, however, was nowhere near sleep.
Michelle hadn’t eaten.
The thought sat heavy in his chest, pressing with a quiet insistence that refused to be ignored. He replayed the moment again and again, her retreat, the way her voice had
