A shadow of that panic reemerges now with the memory of her soaked through, clutching that tree as if it might somehow keep her alive.

But I’m pulled out of the fear of what could have been by the approach of her, safe and whole and carrying two plates with steaming sandwiches.

“Well, I don’t want to condone stalking. But I’m glad you showed up. Not that you’re any more equipped to fight a wolf-bear than I am.”

Little does she know.

“What if it had been a mountain lion?” I ask.

Zoey scowls, setting the plates down on the coffee table in front of the fire and pushing Bruce’s head away when he goes to sniff at them. “That is ridiculous. Seriously. It’s unacceptable. How are there that many large predators in one place?” She collapses on the couch with a disgruntled huff. “Nature should set clear boundaries.”

I chuckle, settling next to her. Close, but not touching.

“I’m sure nature will take your complaint into consideration.” The plate is warm as I rest it in my lap.

This whole situation feels practically domestic. And I crave more of it.

“Stop stalling.” Zoey pokes my shoulder, playfulness in her smirk. “Take your punishment.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Not that I need any convincing to eat the mouthwatering creation. The smell alone has my stomach demanding its fair share.

One bite, and I’m drowning in savory, melted goodness.

“Fucking hell,” I mumble around a mouthful. After I swallow, I gaze at Zoey, sure my obsession with her is shining from my eyes. “What kind of grilled cheese is this?”

“The kind made with my preferred cheese,” she teases before taking her own bite and humming in appreciation at her work.

Unfortunately, my sandwich only lasts three more bites. I could eat half a dozen and still want more.

After collecting our dishes and washing them, I return to the couch in front of the fire, thankful for the continuous, loud pounding of the rain outside. Perfect excuse to stick around longer.

“Your clothes should be dry soon.” Zoey sits on her side of the couch, legs pulled into her chest, chin resting on her knees as she watches me move around.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly comfortable.” Showing off just a bit, I stretch my arms along the back of the couch, lounging in my terry-cloth skirt.

“I don’t know how. Even in this flannel tent, I’m still chilly.” She clutches the collar of her pajama top closed, and I notice the occasional quiver run through her body. Shiver aftershocks.

There’s a blanket folded over the back of the couch. Leaning forward, I pull it off and drape the quilt over her shoulders. But as I begin to move back to my spot, I notice how Zoey sways toward me.

Like she wants to follow where I lead.