I stare into my mug, avoiding staring at him. Even though the rain is trying to break in and the wind has started to howl, I don’t know if I could put up any resistance to Byron if he touched me. And I know I need to.

“We lived in a thirty-year-old trailer,” I say, gazing into my mug. “We were used to leaks. Bits of the ceiling used to collapse every now and then, but I guess it wasn’t solid wood coming down on us like in this cabin.” All of a sudden, it feels like we’re sitting too close. I don’t know if it’s the sound of the storm, or the way he seems so comfortable, but it feels like this cabin is half the size of mine next door.

“Who is us? You said you have three sisters?”

“Yeah, three sisters. I’m the oldest. What about you? Is Mary older or younger?”

“Younger. She just finished college in California. Four siblings must have been…”

“A lot,” I finish for him. “There was a lack of everything except people in our family. Not enough money, or clothes that weren’t worn through, or food that was edible, hot water, privacy, respect. You name it.”

“You never wanted to escape? I mean, before…” he asks, his eyes searching mine like I’m the most interesting person he’s ever met.

“Sure. Ironically, that’s why I was getting married.” I can hear something outside—a tapping, scratching sound. I put my mug down and cock my ear. “Can you hear that? I think there’s someone outside.”

Byron stands and heads to the door. He pulls it wide and in jumps Athena, straight onto my lap. I don’t know where she’s been, but she looks bone dry, like she’s been hanging out in the pet spa all day.

“Athena! You’re back!” I ruffle under her chin and she closes her eyes, pushing her head against my fingers. “Are you hungry, kitty?” I ask. “Let’s get you some yummy food. You can stay here with us and keep dry, okay?”

I set about fixing her some food. She doesn’t wait until I’ve finished dishing it out before she starts eating. Wherever she’s been, she’s worked up an appetite.

“How worried do we need to be about the tornadoes?” I ask.

Byron pulls in a breath. “I have no idea. I would say usually in January you wouldn’t need to be worried at all, but here we are.”

“Is there a town storm shelter?”

“Beth and Mike put one in on the other side of the drive,” he says. “We’ll get an alert if anything comes through. It will give us ten minutes or so to get inside.”