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“Thank you, Jonah.”

He shifts his weight and nods toward the door. “We’ve got tea. It’s nothing special, but it’s hot.”

I nod, unsure if he wants me to follow. He doesn’t wait, just gets up and slips back through the door, not even checking to see if I follow him. Unlike my mother who expected me to be right at her heels like a good little pet, I don’t think Jonah cares if I follow along or stay put.

So, I stay put.

The cold settles deeper into my legs. I adjust the blanket, rubbing my arms to keep the blood moving, but I don’t go inside yet. I want another minute. One more breath of this air before heading in to what awaits me.

A sound behind me breaks the stillness. Quick footsteps, light and full of energy, padding across the floor just inside the cabin. A small figure barrels out the door. She’s clutching a small stuffed fox in her hands. She stutters to a stop when she sees me.

I recognize the expression on her face. Suspicion. Curiosity. A little alarm.

I sit up straighter, not sure what to do. She looks young, maybe four or five. Her dark hair is braided down her back, pink socks on her tiny little feet. I’m guessing she has shorts on, but I can’t see them beneath the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing. It has some faded graphic on the front.

We look at each other for a moment.

The door swings open again. This time it’s the sweet one. His voice carries before he even steps outside. “Mae, hey—what did I say about—” He stops when he sees me, eyes widening slightly.

He steps onto the porch, running a hand through his hair. The girl—Mae—pivots quickly and bolts back inside.

“Well. Guess you met Mae.”

I nod. “Briefly.”

“She’s going through some stuff, so she’s not great with strangers,” he says, coming to lean against the porch railing. “Takes her a minute. Or several. Then she starts asking aboutyour favorite dinosaur and whether or not you like chocolate chips in your pancakes.”

I nod again, unsure what to say. My hands twist the edge of the blanket in my lap.

“You all right?” he asks hesitantly.

I pause. The usual answer floats to the front of my mind—yes, I’m fine—but the words don’t come. I stare out at the trees. The fog is mostly gone now, replaced by full sunlight.

He doesn’t fill the silence. He just waits.

“Today was supposed to be my wedding day,” I finally say.

Chapter 5

Finn

She says it so plainly, I almost don’t catch it.

Today was supposed to be my wedding day.

That’s not something you expect to hear from a girl sitting barefoot on your porch with a borrowed blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

I don’t know what to say at first. My brain scrambles to connect what I’m seeing with what she just said.

This girl—quiet, anxious, polite to the point of disappearing—is a runaway bride.

“Shit,” I say, because it’s the only word that surfaces. “That’s heavy.”

She laughs. Or tries to. It comes out half-formed, like it surprises her on the way up. Still, the sound eases the tension that’s surrounded us since her confession.

I don’t move, just stay where I am, leaning against the porch rail, watching the trees.

“You run?” I ask, though I already know the answer.