Everything is not okay.

There might be a body in our cabin?

She put the thought out of her brain. Surely her mom would be safe with the ranger. Oro jumped off the couch and planted himself just outside the kitchen area, watching Violet as if she’d offered him eggs, too.

“Is he hungry?” she asked. She took the egg carton out of the skinny refrigerator and snooped through the cupboards until she found a medium-size bowl and whisk.

“I’ll feed him.” Chris poured some kibble in a bowl on a mat near the door. Oro watched his movements and then turned his dark eyes back to Violet.

I’d prefer eggs to dog food, too.

She studied Chris out of the corner of her eye as she broke the eggs and whisked them together. He stayed a solid ten feet away from her at all times. Part of her appreciated his efforts to make her not feel threatened, but another part of her wanted to roll her eyes. The man was clearly a gentleman. He might look rough around the edges with his scars and faded jeans, but his manners were impeccable. She didn’t feel unsafe around him, just curious and awkward.

“How long do you think they’ll be?” she asked.

“Can’t say. If there’s a body in there, I imagine your mom will want a long look.”

“Absolutely.” Violet wrinkled her nose. “She’s obsessed with death.” She knew he was right. Her mom had a tendency to lose track of time in her work.

“Obsessed with death or the human body?”

Violet thought about it. “You’re right. She can talk nonstop about what bodies do when they’re in certain situations. Sometimes I have to tell her to stop. I’m used to it, but it’s embarrassing if I have friends over or we’re out in public. Sometimes she forgets that not everyone is used to seeing gunshot wounds or rotting flesh.”

“There’s no way you’re used to hearing her talk about it,” Chris stated. He took a stool at the far end of the island as Violet poured the eggs in a pan.

“I know how to tune things out. Most of the time, she doesn’t bring up her work, but sometimes I think she gets distracted by the science of it all and can’t keep it to herself.” Violet met his calm gaze. “She really likes her job.”

“You don’t?”

“Sometimes I wish she worked in a bank.”

He grinned. “My dad worked in a bank. I can’t think of anything more boring. One of my dads,” he corrected.

A small spike of pain hit Violet’s heart and rapidly faded. She looked down at her eggs and kept the whisk moving through the yellow slimy mass over the low heat. “Is that your son?” She tilted her head at an enlarged photograph on the wall. It showed a dark-haired boy wrestling in the snow with another man. The colors were vivid against the white snow, and she could almost hear them shouting in laughter. Happiness radiated from the picture.

Chris looked at the photo and smiled fondly. “Yes, that’s Brian and my brother, Michael.”

Violet studied the details. “They both look like you. You all have different coloring, but I can see the resemblance in the eyes and the faces.”’

He looked away under her scrutiny, but she saw he was pleased by her observation. She felt the same way when people said she looked like her mom. Her mom was gorgeous, and Violet had always loved that she referred to Violet as her mini-me—even after Violet grew taller than she. It was something no one could ever take away from them.

She saw nothing of her father in her face, and her mom agreed. It often felt as if she’d been created solely from her mother’s genetics. It hurt. She swallowed hard and stared at the eggs.

Please stay safe. She didn’t need to lose another parent.

“He’s an only child?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ve always liked being an only child,” Violet stated. “I have friends who hate it and say they wanted someone to play with when they were younger, but I’ve always been able to entertain myself. I didn’t feel a need for siblings.”

Chris nodded, but she suspected he wondered at the truth of her statement. When she’d needed one, her grandmother had been a wonderful playmate, and when her mother was home, Violet had always wanted to spend time with her.

“It must have been hard to leave your friends behind in New York.”

Her head jerked up. Did my mom already tell him? “Yes. I’ve lived there all my life, and my mom decided to uproot me during my junior year. I think anyone can agree that’s not cool.” She stirred her thickening eggs. “I miss my friends. Texting and Skype help but I’ve lost that since we came up here. Do you think we’ll be able to go back to the city today?”

He took a piece of cold bacon, bit into it, and chewed, looking out at the light snow. Violet couldn’t read his expression.

“I doubt it. The warming trend they forecasted hasn’t appeared yet. If they don’t get the roads plowed, I’m not sure how my truck will be in the deep snow, and I hate to risk it until we have to. And with that big accident Frisco told us about, there’s no point in even trying. If we get out to the main highway, we’d have to turn around.”

Her eggs looked perfect. She scooped a big serving onto a plate and handed it to him, nodding at his sincere thanks.

She dished up her own plate and they ate in silence for a few minutes. Oro scooted closer, moving his focus to Chris and his plate. Violet had always wanted a dog. Her best friend’s dogs were big, goofy, joyful animals who celebrated whenever Violet visited. She’d always thought it’d be cool to have someone over-the-moon excited to greet you every time you came home. Oro wasn’t goofy; he was calm. But she noticed he was aware of every movement made in the cabin. Just like his owner.