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“Looks deserted. Some of the windows are boarded up.” Had her voice betrayed her disappointment? What did you expect , Kit? That a resident with a working phone would come running out to help? It was exactly what she’d hoped for, anyway.

Cullen frowned. “Doesn’t matter. We’re looking for shelter and warmth, and one of those trailers is our best option.”

“I can’t get the bus into that lot.”

“We can leave it there.” He pointed to a wooded shoulder near a refueling station and garbage area. “I don’t suppose you want to—”

“Wait here while you scope it out? No. I’ll help, and if she starts to get cold again, I’ll bring her back here to warm her up.

” In truth, Kit was still cold, but she didn’t want them to split up for any reason.

Who’s dependent on whom? The thought made her shiver, but she followed him and Tot.

She hauled the duffel over her shoulder, and they left the other supplies in the bus.

Her spine and legs reminded her of the trauma she’d subjected them to escaping from the tunnel.

Cullen was walking stiffly, in obvious pain as well.

“Look for one with a hooked-up propane tank,” he said. “That’s our best chance at heat.”

Dark, cold, empty, surreal. Indescribable was the best word she could think of to capture the moment as they walked through the desolate area.

Wet, hungry, desperate for shelter. Ready to enter someone else’s home.

In other circumstances they’d be breaking and entering.

Legalese meant zilch to her at the moment.

They’d explain everything if they lived long enough.

Right now it was quite literally a life-or-death choice.

She tried to keep away from the deep pockets of mud.

Cullen focused on the units farthest from the sludgy water, three nicely tended trailers with potted plants and shades drawn over the windows.

He selected the middle one, leapt over a rippling stream, and approached the door while she watched.

With a sheepish look, he rang the bell and tugged on the doorknob, locked of course.

She joined him as he made his way around to the side, shaded by a cheerful, striped awning. The back door was locked also.

“Wish I still had the sledgehammer, but this will do,” he said.

He picked up a cement gnome from the step and whacked the handle off, stuck his hand inside, and opened the latch manually. “I’ll leave another note and my contact info,” he said with a wry smile. “I’m going to owe people all over this state.”

She was too cold to smile, too weak to do anything but enter the trailer with her precious bundle. She laid Tot on a worn plaid sofa and wedged her in with some pillows. Tot accepted the binky, staring with wide, unblinking eyes at her new surroundings.

Cullen disappeared to fuss with the propane tank while she took stock of their new shelter.

The sight of an old coffee machine made her mouth water.

A faint scent of flowers perfumed the air.

The tiny table and bench seats were part of a minuscule kitchen.

On the counter was a vase of stargazer lilies, dry and shriveled, and a small card propped next to it.

Happy anniversary , Thelma. All my love , Frank.

She desperately hoped Thelma and Frank had gotten away safely and would have their home to return to after Mount Ember was finished self-destructing.

The fridge was covered with magnets advertising everything from pickles to national parks.

It opened to reveal a jar of olives and a package of string cheese.

The cupboard held a half-empty container of peanut butter and some wheat crackers and bottled water.

What would be suitable for Tot? She could eat bits of the cheese and crackers.

It wouldn’t be a complete diet if they ran short of formula, but it would keep her alive, at least for a while.

If only Thelma and Frank had some formula stowed away for visiting babies.

A narrow hallway led to a bathroom, glorious with its pink crocheted tissue box cover and the glass dish of potpourri next to the fancy hand soap pump.

She imagined Thelma and Frank snug in their cozy home, and she hoped they were the kind of people who would welcome desperate strangers.

Certainly no one could begrudge shelter to a vulnerable infant with a missing mother.

The compact bedroom on one end of the trailer held a queen-sized mattress topped with a handmade quilt. At the opposite end of the rig was another smaller room that had an overstuffed sofa, TV, and a table set up with a half-finished jigsaw puzzle depicting a bunch of picnicking rabbits.

A soft hum and click indicated Cullen had been successful and the heater surged into action.

Her heart leapt. Did that mean they would have hot water too?

She didn’t allow herself to imagine such a delicious outcome and returned to Tot as Cullen let himself back in and went to the porcelain lamp on the side table. He switched it on.

The flood of buttery light was so startling and lovely, she felt herself tearing up. Cullen might have too, because he turned away, plopped his baseball cap on the table, and busied himself closing the blinds tight.

“Precaution,” he said.

It was enough to check her euphoria. Nico could not possibly have tracked them. Still...

He checked his phone and sighed. They put their wet boots by the heat register to dry. She was content to settle next to Tot by the lamp, as if it were a crackling campfire. Better than a campfire. Electricity.

“Still no signal?”

He shook his head. “All right. Tomorrow we do some recon. For tonight, we’re okay here.”

“Better than okay. We have a heater and a lamp and a flushing toilet.”

“And in a couple hours”—he leaned forward with a delighted grin—“there will be hot water for a shower.”

She pressed a palm to her chest. “I may explode from the sheer joy of that.”

He chuckled and pulled a chair next to Tot. “Little lady, it’s near 1:00 a.m. You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“She’s a little off schedule.”

“She’s entitled, considering what she’s been through. Think she’s hungry?”

“Doesn’t seem so.”

“Well, I am. And thirsty. Tap water’s not safe to drink, maybe, though.”

“There’s a dozen water bottles in the cupboard above the sink.”

“Perfect. How about we use what’s here and save our supply? If we get the stove going, we can boil some and refill ours.” He started to get up, but he groaned aloud, his face creasing in pain.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get it. My knee’s feeling a lot better.”

A soft expression washed over him in the lamplight, and he reached out and fingered a strand of her hair, tucking it back behind her ear. She froze, not breathing.

“Thank you,” he said. “You’re amazing, in case I forgot to tell you that.”

And what exactly flooded over her just then?

A mixture of warmth and worry that left her wanting to move closer and run in the other direction.

She yearned to kiss him, but she knew that would only lead to more pain later.

Don’t need me too much , Cullen , she wanted to tell him.

I don’t want to be anybody’s safe place.

The trauma they were enduring was creating a fake intimacy that wouldn’t exist in the real world.

She went to the kitchen, grabbed bottles of water and the scant contents of the fridge and pantry, a couple paper plates and napkins, and brought it all to the small side table so he wouldn’t have to move.

He uncapped a bottle and drained it before opening the next. She, too, gulped the clean, cool liquid. Utterly delicious. She opened the olive jar and forked some out on a paper plate, then pushed it toward him.

“You help yourself to the olives.” He dipped a cracker in the peanut butter and ate it with an eye roll. “Oh man. I can’t even believe how good this tastes.” He fixed several peanut butter cracker sandwiches and slid them over to her. “Have some before I go face down in this pile of crackers.”

Again, she offered the olives.

He shook his head.

“You don’t like olives?”

“Oh, I like the taste fine. I...” He waved a hand. “Confession. I’ll eat anything on the planet except for two things, one of which is green olives unless they’re chopped or sliced up or something.”

“If you like the taste, why not eat them whole?”

“I’m not going to say, on account of it tarnishes my macho reputation.” He mimed zipping his lips and tossing the key.

She grinned. “Oh, your macho reputation is already suffering from the rat incident.”

“Unkind to throw that in my face, ma’am.”

“I’ll forget all about it,” she said mischievously, “if you tell me about your olive hang-up.”

“It’s not a hang-up or anything. I just can’t get past the fact that...” He groaned. “You’re gonna tease me.”

She arched a brow, waiting.

“They look too much like eyeballs.”

Her laughter came out so exuberantly, Tot jerked her head over to look. “Eyeballs. Really.”

“Yeah, like they’re all squishy and the red thing in the middle is like some sort of horror show. Creeps me out.” He shivered and devoured another cracker.

Still laughing, she stuck a fork into the jar, speared two olives, and stuffed them into her mouth. “Lucious,” she said. “An amazing, gelatinous texture.”

He sighed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

She laughed some more until he was chuckling with her. It felt precious, refreshing, natural, to be sharing a laugh with him in spite of everything the world was throwing at them. The tingle of unease remained, a faint murmur that urged her to get on the road and keep moving.

“Tell me what the other food is that you can’t stand.”

“For my own protection, I will decline to state. Enjoy your eyeballs while I finish the rest of the crackers.”