Page 7 of Silver Fox Mountain Daddies

She’s not our problem to solve.

But, we are the ones who pulled her out of the wreckage. Which makes it a little harder to pretend we don’t owe her at least a soft landing for the night.

Finn finally backs off, giving her a quick nod before heading into the kitchen. Jonah follows him. She doesn’t move. She remains perched on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the floorboards.

Then she finally gets up and closes the door with a soft click.

Finn pulls open the fridge, rooting around until he finds the last beer in the back. He cracks it open and takes a long pull before setting it down.

"She’s spooked bad," he says, keeping his voice low. "Like a stray you find under a porch in the rain. Half-expecting a boot to the ribs."

Jonah leans against the far counter, arms crossed, watching me over the rim of his coffee cup. “I’m not sure if it’s just the fire. You saw her clothes; they’re expensive. But she swears she lost everything in that fire.”

"Which means she’s not leaving tomorrow," I say, tapping my fingers against the mug in front of me. "Not unless she plans on hiking barefoot down the mountain with no money and no phone.”

Finn bristles, his shoulders pulling tight. "She’s not trying to stay here forever, Boone. She doesn’t even want to stay here tonight, but she has no other options. She’s obviously scared out of her mind."

I tilt my head, giving him a long look. "I’m aware."

“Are you, though?”

Jonah pushes off the counter, setting his mug down carefully. "She needs time. A couple days, maybe. Somewhere to catch her breath, figure out her next move."

“We’ll talk to her in the morning about her situation. But, she’ll probably need a little money to get herself started. Maybe a bus ticket somewhere.”

“Jesus. Why don’t we just adopt her while we’re at it? I hope nothing she’s running from comes looking for her because that girl is one hundred percent running from something."

Finn makes a rough sound in the back of his throat. "You’re acting like she’s dangerous. She got dragged out of a burning building in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes she was wearing. She’s just freaked out."

"Maybe," I say. "But people who run usually have a reason. And sometimes that reason follows them."

Jonah rubs the back of his neck, eyes narrowing. Jonah was in the Green Berets with me and has seen even worse than me and has the mental scars to prove it.

"We fought too hard to give Mae a real shot at something normal,” I remind them. “I’m not throwing that away because we felt sorry for a stranger."

Finn’s mouth tightens. His hands flex, then settle. "No one’s saying we’re throwing anything away. No one’s saying we’re adopting her. I don’t think you can legally adopt adults, anyway. She may be tiny, but she’s definitely a few years over eighteen.”

“Finn.” God, does he like to run off at the mouth. When he was a kid my mom used to call him Motor Mouth.

“What I'm saying is, she’s a kid in trouble. We can give her a little patience."

I shake my head. "Patience isn’t the issue. Safety is."

Jonah cuts in before Finn can answer. "Finn’s right. She’s barely more than a kid herself. Maybe twenty-four, twenty-five, if that. Whatever she’s running from, I don’t think it’s looking for her tonight.”

I grind the palm of my hand into the counter. Part of me knows he’s right. But that doesn’t mean trouble isn’t far behind.

Finn plants both hands on the counter, leaning in. "See, I think you’re both looking at it all wrong. What if she’s exactly what we need?"

His words draw my full attention. I can’t wait to hear this one…

Finn pushes on. "Mae’s been tough lately. She’s dealing with her own trauma—a trauma quite similar to what our pretty little houseguest just went through. With her not in school yet, it’s hard to balance her care with shifts and drills. We’ve talked about it. About how thin we’re stretched."

I frown, not liking where this is going.

"If Ani sticks around for a few days," Finn says, "maybe she can help. Watch Mae while we’re at the station. Play with her in the afternoons. We’re not asking her to be a full-time nanny. Just a little help. It might even help her, too. Give her something to hold onto while she figures out her next move. And we pay her for her time, so she has a little nest egg when she’s ready to go."

Jonah doesn’t say anything, but the expression on his face tells me he’s considering the idea.

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