Page 30 of Their Reluctant Catch

I don’t slow down. My boots pound against the frozen earth as I close the distance, my heart hammering harder than it should from the run.

Two more strides, and I’m there. Too close. Not close enough.

Colton adjusts his hold on her.

“Is she hurt?”

A pause, just long enough to twist something deep inside me.

“No. Just cold.”

Colton meets my gaze, then looks away just as fast. His jaw tightens, his grip on Savannah firm but careful. Something unsettles me about the way his fingers flex against her middle restlessly and his eyes keeps darting away from mine.

I don’t push. Not now.

Not with her like this and on a damn dark trail.

We’re going to bring her home, make sure she’s safe before I get to the bottom of this.

I step in beside her, close enough to feel the shiver rippling through her body. My arm finds its place at her back, steadying her as she leans into the warmth between us.

She molds between us, her fit there completely natural.

Something clicks into place. Like a missing puzzle piece that prevented me from seeing the bigger picture. I don’t waste time or energy on the thought, but start toward the van, steering the other two in the right direction.

“Let’s get her home.”

Chapter13

Todd

I don’t know how long the walk back takes, nor do I remember much from the drive home. It’s all a blur of steady steps, supporting her weight, and the low murmur of reassurance neither of us is sure she even hears. Savannah is tucked between us—where she belongs—almost the entire time.

Only in those moments of transition, when one of us must open a door or adjust, is when she is without both our arms and is not pressed against both our sides.

By the time we pull into the driveway, the tension in my shoulders has settled into something heavier. I kill the engine, and for a moment, we sit there, listening to the faint rattle of the cooling van and the wind outside. Savannah hasn’t stirred beyond a sluggish shift when the motion stopped.

I open the door and step out. The cold air hits me like a slap, and I’m glad Savannah is bundled up in few layers of blankets. Colton is already moving, yanking open the passenger door before I even round the front of the van.

I nudge Savannah gently. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you inside.”

She blinks sluggishly, as if my words take a moment to register. Then, without argument, she moves, but it’s mechanical—her limbs stiff, her expression distant. The way she follows the motion without truly engaging sends unease crawling up my spine.

The second she’s upright, Colton scoops her into his arms like she weighs nothing.

Something in me loosens at the sight of them. She is curled against his chest, and his hold is instinctively protective. When she shifts, nuzzling closer, something warm and possessive stirs in my chest as I suck in air.

Yeah. That looks right.

I exhale, shaking off the moment and pulling the door shut behind us. “Let’s get inside, warm up, and get some rest.”

Tomorrow, we talk.

Inside, the harsh kitchen light makes everything feel sharper and harsher. The warm glow we left behind has been replaced with a clinical light that makes the deep circles under Savannah’s eyes more pronounced, the dullness in her gaze more apparent.

I shut the door behind us. Figuring Savannah won’t be a source of information, I turn to my brother. “What happened?”

“Dunno.” He shakes his head and lowers her to a stool. “Found her like this.”

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