She stared.
Then she shook her head firmly.
“Never.”
He swallowed.
“Not once?”
“Not for a moment.”
He looked at her.
She continued.
“I was frightened. Exhausted. Sometimes I didn't know whether you'd live through the night.”
Her voice trembled.
“But I never regretted opening that door.”
He lowered his head.
For years, he had believed his survival was a burden.
The woman sitting before him had just told him that keeping him alive had been worth every difficult moment.
He wiped his eyes.
She looked toward his scarred hand.
“May I?”
He nodded.
She reached for it.
Her fingers were broad and soft, and she handled his injured hand with surprising delicacy.
She examined the old scars.
Then she gently traced the places where the damaged fingertips ended.
He flinched slightly.
She immediately stopped.
“Does that hurt?”
He shook his head.
“Not much.”
She looked up.
“Then why did you move?”
He hesitated.
“Not used to being touched.”
Her expression softened.
She lifted his hand.
Then she pressed a gentle kiss against his scarred knuckles.
He went completely still.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
The woman lowered his hand.
“Does that hurt?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
Her cheeks flushed.
“Good.”
He stared at her.
Then a slow smile appeared.
“Darling?”
She looked up.
“Yes?”
“Would you mind doing that again?”
She laughed softly.
Then she brought his hand to her lips once more.
This time, he closed his eyes.
For the first time in years, tenderness did not feel like a memory.
It felt real.
The sound of a heavy impact interrupted them.
Something struck the outer wall.
The cabin trembled.
The woman gasped.
The rancher stood immediately.
Another impact followed.
Then a long, splintering groan came from somewhere near the roof.
He looked toward the ceiling.
The woman gripped the arms of her chair.
“What was that?”
He listened.
The wind roared.
Then came a sharp crack.
He recognized the sound.
Timber under strain.
He moved toward the window.
Through the swirling snow, he could see a large pine branch lying against the cabin's outer roofline.
The storm had broken it from a nearby tree.
The branch was heavy.
Snow was accumulating along its length.
And the roof beneath it was beginning to bow.
The rancher turned.
“We've got trouble.”
The woman looked toward the ceiling.
“How bad?”
He hesitated.
“Bad enough that we need to move away from that wall.”
She followed his gaze.
The bedroom was beneath the damaged section.