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I laugh. “The coop?” I shake my head. “I don’t think that will work.”

“Me neither, which means we have to share, McColl.”

My heart does something strange in my chest. Share a cabin. With him. Alone.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he says quickly, as if reading my thoughts. “I’ll take a blanket, and…I’ll be just fine.”

I frown. “Don’t be ridiculous.” The words come out sharper than I intended. I soften my tone. “We’ve been sleeping rough for days. There’s no need for either of us to be uncomfortable when there’s a perfectly good bed right there.”

His eyes widen slightly. “McColl, I don’t think that’s—”

“What’s the big deal?” I shrug. “I mean, we’re both adults.” By the goddess, it feels like my cheeks are on fire. “We can share a bed without anything…improper happening.”

He looks like he wants to argue, like he’s wrestling with some internal battle. His jaw works silently for a long moment, and I can see the tension in his shoulders.

“I can trust you, can’t I? Not to—”

“Of course,” he snaps, giving a small snort.

“You can trust me, too. We’re friends…that’s all.” I don’t think friends are supposed to notice each other like I notice him…but I’m running with it. “Kian?” I prompt when he doesn’t respond.

“Of course, you’re absolutely right…friends,” he says finally, but his reluctance is clear. “If you’re sure, then I’m fine with it, too.”

I’m not sure of anything, but I nod anyway. “I’m sure.”

We prepare for bed in awkward silence. I braid my damp hair while he banks the fire and checks that the door is secured. The pallet is narrow – barely wide enough for two people – and I can’t help but think about how close we’ll be lying together.

It will be fine. I’m being silly.

When there is nothing left to do but sleep, we approach the bed from opposite sides. Kian hesitates at the edge, and for a moment, I think he’s going to change his mind and take the floor after all.

But then he lies down, careful to stay as far to his side as possible. I do the same, leaving as much space between us as the narrow mattress allows.

It’s not enough.

Even with the gap between us, I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. His scent is of clean male with a hint of wood smoke, which fills my nostrils with every breath. I’m acutely aware of every small movement he makes, every shift and sigh.

This was a terrible idea.

I stare up at the ceiling, my body rigid with the effort of staying as far away from him as I can. I can hear his breathing, steady but not quite relaxed. He’s as affected by this as I am, but perhaps not in the same way.

My skin feels too tight, too warm. Every nerve ending seems to be reaching toward him, drawn by some invisible force I can’t control or understand.

“McColl?” His voice is deep and yet quiet in the darkness.

“Yes?” I whisper.

“Are you alright? You seem…tense.”

I almost laugh at the understatement. “I’m fine. Just…it’s been a long day.”

“It has.” A pause. “I’m sorry about…the others. They’re normally not so…” He stops talking. I think he’s trying to find the right word to use.

“Suspicious? Hostile?” I say, smiling, even though it isn’t something to smile about.

He pushes out a heavy breath. “I would go with protective,” he says carefully. I think he might be smiling too. “We’ve all lost so much. It’s made us wary of trusting anyone new, especially…” He lets the sentence trail off.

“A witch?”