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21

EMBER

T he small log cabin is rustically beautiful. With its rough-sawn timbers and dovetailed corners, it’s like something out of a picture book. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but it’s hovering in that weird in-between stage where the night has gone to bed, but the sun isn’t up yet.

The trek was arduous in the dark, with only the scant light from the headlamps to guide us. Lemmy hugged close to Butterscotch’s tail, which reinforces how tricky the riding was. Because my horse does not like to sit in second place. He likes to lead. But Butterscotch has clearly done this ride many more times than Lemmy, and both of us knew it.

“You can’t see it properly in the dark,” Atom says as he lets the horses into the small paddock to the right of the property. “But there’s a whole meadow out front filled with flowers and grass.”

“A rancher like you with unplowed and unproductive acreage. What is the world coming to?”

Atom chuckles, then bites back a yawn. “Plowed acreage is a job. A vocation. Sitting on the porch with a cold beer, looking at those grasses and flowers sway in the breeze—that’s stress relief.”

“I will never tell your brothers that their favorite enforcer likes wildflowers.” I look to the main cabin and, sitting on the porch are two Adirondack chairs facing down to the river we followed along for a while.

“I like pollinators who happen to like wildflowers. There’s a difference.”

I chuckle at his answer. “How did I not know you had this place?” I ask as Atom begins to unload all our supplies off the horses. He passes them over the rustic fence to me, and I place them next to the gate.

“Because you didn’t need to know.” His answer is simple and straightforward.

“That’s fair.” Maybe it’s tiredness, but my tone slips a little into sadness.

“Hey,” Atom says, appearing in front of me on the other side of the fence.

“No. I’m being silly. I’m tired. And hungry. And?—”

He kisses me tenderly. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not being a bigger man back then. I promise you I will be this time around.”

I shake my head. “It’s asking a lot for such a new relationship.”

Atom’s forefinger tips my chin upward so we’re looking at each other. “It’s new, but it’s been forever. Even when it wasn’t, we still couldn’t stop orbiting each other, any more than the moon can stop circling the earth.”

“My dad is still my dad. His hands-off clause, as primitive as it is, is still in effect.”

“Look up,” Atom says.

“What?”

“Look up. Just do it, Em.”

I do as he says.

“See the moon right there? That’s me. I’ll always be there. You might not see me, but I sure as fuck will always find you wherever you are on God’s green earth.”

“I hope you don’t end up six feet beneath that green earth when we tell my father.”

“One bridge at a time, Em. We don’t need to get any further ahead than bed. Let’s get all this inside.”

Lemmy whinnies. He hates stables most, even after all these years, he refuses to adjust, but to be enclosed and fenced in a paddock would be second on his ‘most disliked’ list. He likes to run in any direction he chooses and chafes against the constraint.

“Hey,” I whisper to him softly when he headbutts me over the fence. “It’s okay, sweet boy. I know, I know. You hate it. Well, it’s just for tonight. And you have Butterscotch for company.”

Atom slips his arms around me. “And I have you.”

He places a gentle kiss to my neck, and I tilt my head to give him more access. I have a fleeting thought that this is what I’ve always wanted. A place away from everyone else, a wild meadow and a stream.

And Atom.

Hudson.

I could never have predicted five years ago that this is where I would end up.

It takes us fifteen minutes to untack the horses and get the stuff from the paddock to the cabin. It’s marginally bigger than one of those tiny homes you see on social media all the time. The entrance is in the center of the home, and Atom unlocks the door.

He hangs his Stetson on the hook by the entrance and flicks on the lights.

“You have power?” I say.

He points behind the house. “There’s a bank of solar panels out back, and I have an emergency generator. So we can have light and heat if we need it. Got a couple of oil-filled radiators that I put on a timer to heat the place up a little on cold winter mornings. But mostly I use the fireplace. Been chopping up a storm every time I’m here. Plenty of dead trees around that need culling out anyway.”

The house is beautiful and practical. There’s a bed at one end, partially hidden by a curtain tied back with a thick rope cord. At the bottom of the bed is a doorway into a pretty white-tiled bathroom. “You have a sewage line and running water?”

Atom shakes his head. “No. It’s a cassette toilet. Got to empty the suckers. But I didn’t want to be trucking out into a field in the middle of the night to dig a hole for a shit.”

I laugh at the visual. “Although, that would be funny.”

He starts to move the groceries into the kitchen, where there’s a small fridge. “It gets old in winter, believe me. I have an electric shower system to bring water into the tub. The outlet is a long pipe out into the field. But you can have a bath or a shower. Might need to give me a little notice so I can fill up the water tanks in the river.”

“Or we could just go skinny-dipping.”

Atom grins. “Or we could do that.”

The kitchen is compact but perfectly stocked. The solid-wood cabinetry is beautiful and rustic sink is charming. Everything is a little imperfect and worn. Like it was made by hand with the love and care of a craftsman. To the left of the kitchen is the living space, with a glass-door fireplace. A small two-seater sofa fits on one side. Two mismatched chairs sit on the other. Along the window runs a long plank at hip height with three stools beneath. A perfect spot for coffee in the morning.

“Did you build this place?” I ask in awe.

Atom stands and nods. “I’ve been building this place for about three years. Winter is great because I can ride out here on the snowmobile and tow multiple sleds behind it with supplies. It’s faster than by horse, and smoother. I balanced the sofa across two sleds, then drove really slow to get it out here.”

I can imagine him doing that, bundled up against the cold, proud of his ingenuity.

“I love it.”

Atom huffs and pulls me to him, our arms wrapping around each other. “It’s wild. There have been a number of times I’ve thought of you while I was building it and while I’ve spent time here.”

“Why?”

“I guess, in hindsight, I could never really see anyone but you here. It’s a tough sell, Em: Come live with me off grid, out in the middle of nowhere. No takeout. No shopping. No bars or restaurants. Only emergency satellite internet. Even if it’s only for a few days at a time.”

I sigh as I relax next to him. “Man, I would disappear here for weeks at a time, if I could.”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “I knew you’d appreciate it.”

Without warning, I let out a large yawn. With my hands around Atom, I’m not even fast enough to cover my mouth. “Sorry,” I say, finally.

Atom smiles. “Let’s get your face cleaned up so you can get into bed. Find your toiletries.”

He disappears into the bathroom, and when I get there, he’s found a towel and face cloth and hands them to me. “I don’t think the tanks have enough water for a full shower, but I’ll fix that in the morning. Just clean up enough so you feel comfortable sleeping.”

I do as he says, stripping down to the sleep tank I’m still wearing beneath my other clothes. The state of my face is a shock. How could Atom have looked at me so endearingly when I’m covered in gray dust, with track marks for my tears?

Hot mess is the only way to describe me.

I make quick work of brushing my teeth and washing my face, trying to conserve water so there is some left for Atom.

When I’m done, I step back into the living room and find Atom has already turned down the bedding. He’s stripped to the waist.

“That’s better,” I say. “I feel more human again.”

Atom smiles. “Good. Climb in.”

He holds the blankets up, and I scramble in. I don’t even care that this is a long way from being a cute sleep set I’m wearing. The pattern is so faded, I can barely remember what it is.

When his hand gently smacks my ass, I chuckle and face plant into the pillows.

It’s hard to stay awake until he’s done. The idea of being here, alone, in bed with Atom, is arousing. But not quite enough to overcome the fact my bar has burned down, I’m emotionally overwrought, and I desperately need to get some sleep.

My eyelids feel heavy, the bedding warm, perhaps too warm on such a hot night. While I was in the bathroom, Atom opened the windows. Protected with large screens to stop bugs getting in, I feel perfectly comfortable and cozy.

Atom is equally quick in the way he washes up. When he emerges from the bathroom, he moves through the space with ease, checking locks and turning off lights. The last thing he does before he climbs into bed is grab his gun and put it on the table next to the bed.

“It’s just a precaution,” he says. “Not sure anything or anyone is gonna bother us, but better to be safe.”

He releases the cord holding the curtain back, and it swishes to close off the bedroom from the rest of the building. Then he climbs into bed, the mattress jiggling slightly as he joins me.

“Come here,” he says, stretching his arm out toward me.

I roll towards him, willing my body and mind to rouse for him. But when I try to move and kiss him, he kisses my forehead gently. “Just go to sleep, sweetheart. You need your rest.”

And safely in his arms, I fall fast to sleep.