Not even when she woke halfway and seemed to realize she was being carried by a man she’d never met. No flailing. No panic. No scream.
Just that tight grip, and a silence that felt like trust mixed with exhaustion.
Jake guided his horse to the cabin and swung down carefully, keeping her close. The cabin wasn’t much—wood walls darkened by years of smoke, a pot on the stove, and a Bible on the table he hadn’t read as often as he promised himself he would.
A simple place.
A quiet place.
Jake carried her inside and laid her gently on his bed.
He soaked a cloth and pressed it to her forehead again. Her skin still burned. The heat was the kind that made you feel helpless, like you were trying to put out a fire with a teaspoon.
Her eyes fluttered open just enough for her to take in the room.
Then her face softened.
Relief.
Not sudden, not dramatic—slow relief, like a door finally closing after years of being left open.
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