Page 41 of Welded Defender
I almost say you don’t have to be—because what good does sorry do for things that lived and died years ago?—but something in his voice makes me let it land. Warmly. Like heat soaking into cold fingers.
He reaches for another log and sets it up. “Your nightmares seem to be improving... since you’ve been staying over.”
I pause, the wood suddenly heavy in my hands. “You noticed.”
“Hard not to when someone goes boneless on your chest and drools on your shirt.”
My face flares hot. “I did not.”
“You did a little.” He waits just long enough for my outrage to peak. “I liked it.”
It shouldn’t twist my heart the way it does. But it does.
I turn a half-smile into my scarf and carry the logs to the stack.
“Bend your knees more,” he calls after me. “Use your legs.”
“You say that like it’s actually helpful.”
He walks over and gently touches my elbow. “Here.” His hand slides to my hip, not possessive—guiding. He shifts my stance a few inches. “Keeps you from wrenching your back.”
The heat of his palm burns right through the layers. I can’t tell if it’s the cold or him making my breath catch. “Like this?”
“That’s it.”
I focus hard on the wood. On the little gaps. On not melting into a puddle from a single touch.
We make a few more trips, and I start to find a rhythm that feels like mine, not just his. Each time I straighten, he’s already setting the next round. The sight of him—steady, sure—works something loose in my chest I didn’t know was knotted. The kind of loose that lets a laugh escape when the last armload slides dangerously off my stack, and I scramble to catch it.
He chuckles. “You’re ambitious.”
“I’m cold,” I counter, and that’s true. The wind nips any skin I haven’t bundled up. My nose is probably as red as a stop sign by now.
He studies me for a second, then peels off his beanie and tugs it over my head before I can argue. “Here.”
I blink up at him from beneath the slouchy knit, overwhelmed by how much it smells like him—cedar and soap and winter air. “What about you?”
“I like to live dangerously.”
“Reckless.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
I take another step toward the pile, my foot landing on what looks like snow-packed ground. It isn’t. Ice slides out from under me, and I yelp, arms shooting out to catch nothing but air. Landon reacts instantly. He grabs for me, and I grab for him, and momentum does the rest.
We hit the drift in a heap—me flat on my back, him half sprawled on top of me. Snow puffs up around us in a sparkling cloud. The cold shocks right through my coat, and a startled, breathless laugh bursts out of me.
He’s already pushing up on his hands, face hovering over mine, eyes searching. “You okay?”
I nod, still laughing. “Graceful as ever.”
“Let me—” He shifts his weight, giving me space. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” The words escape before my brain can stop them. “I mean—” I swallow hard. “I’m fine.”
He freezes. We both do.
