“I was going to.”
“When?”
Callaway closed his eyes briefly.
“When I knew you were safe here.”
Maeve’s anger became something deeper.
“You decided that for me too?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She turned and went inside.
Callaway did not follow.
That night, he slept on the cot as always.
Maeve did not sleep at all.
The following morning, she packed half her trunk.
Callaway saw it.
He stood in the doorway while Maeve folded a dress.
“Road’s bad.”
“I’ll wait until it clears.”
“Where will you go?”
“Town.”
“And then?”
“Anywhere I understand why I’m there.”
Callaway absorbed the blow without defending himself.
Maeve wanted him to argue.
That made her angrier.
“Say something.”
“I should have told you sooner.”
“Yes.”
“I had reasons.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“I thought—”
“That is precisely the problem, Callaway. You thought. You chose. You decided. And I traveled across an ocean while you kept information about my dead father in your pocket.”
His face tightened.
“I never lied about wanting you here.”
“You simply failed to mention why.”
“I wanted you here for more than one reason.”
Maeve went still.
Their eyes met.
Callaway looked away first.
The moment passed.
He said, “Give me three days.”
“For what?”
“The storm coming.”
Maeve almost laughed.
“You expect me to believe the weather is now part of your secrets?”
“No. I expect you to look outside.”
She did.
Clouds had swallowed the mountains.
By noon, snow began.
By evening, the road disappeared.
Maeve was trapped again.
Only this time, the cabin no longer felt safe.
It felt full of questions.
The storm lasted two days.
Callaway gave her space.
Too much space.
He spoke only when necessary.
She hated it.
By the second evening, Maeve wanted him to argue simply so she could stop imagining every possible explanation.
Was her father a criminal?
Had he owed Callaway money?
Had Callaway brought her as payment?
Had Patrick Gallagher owned something valuable?
Had Maeve been summoned because of a debt?
And why had Callaway spent months refusing even to sit on the edge of the bed he supposedly hoped to share as a husband?
On the third night, rain replaced snow.
The temperature rose suddenly, sending water hammering from the roof while thunder rolled down from the mountains.
Maeve stood beside the bed.
Callaway sat near the fire repairing a bridle.
The image struck her with sudden absurdity.
There they were again.
Her in his bed.
Him beside the fire.
Secrets between them.
Maeve had endured enough.
“You’ve slept there every night since I came.”
Callaway’s fingers paused against the leather.
“It’s better this way.”
“Better for whom?”
“For everyone.”
Maeve folded her arms.
“That is not an answer.”
He continued working.
She crossed the room.
“Callaway.”
No response.
She came closer.
“You brought me across half the world to live here. You feed me. You protect me. You look at me when you think I don’t notice.”