She watched Chris eat and realized the awkwardness she’d felt earlier was gone. She still had a bit of anxiety over her mom, but she’d absorbed some of Chris’s calm. He finished nearly all his eggs and scraped the remainder into Oro’s bowl on top of his dog food. The dog finished the eggs in a split second and left the kibble. Oro picked a new spot to sit and fastened his stare on Violet.

“Did you even taste the eggs?” Chris asked the dog. Oro didn’t look away from Violet.

A far-off gunshot sounded from outside. Chris turned to look out the window and the tension in the cabin abruptly returned. Another shot sounded.

“That sounds pretty far away,” Violet said. Mom?

The sudden stiffness in Chris’s back alarmed her. Is he worried? “I imagine you hear gunfire up here pretty often?” she asked hopefully, wanting him to alleviate her fears. They were in the middle of the forest; shouldn’t gunfire be normal?

“Sometimes,” he said. “Not as much this time of year. We heard two shots last night, too.” He gave her that small don’t-worry smile again. “Someone’s probably bored.”

“Are we safe here?” Violet blurted. “Is my mom safe? Do you think that was the ranger’s gun? What if something’s happened to them?” She turned and rinsed her plate in the tiny sink as a small blanket of fear covered her shoulders. She wanted to run out the front door and go search for her mom.

We’re in the fucking middle of nowhere.

“Hey, we’re okay—” Chris started.

“I know we’re okay, but what about my mom? They might be hurt,” Violet snapped at him as she turned around. Guilt flooded her. “I’m sorry.” She wiped the island with a damp cloth, unable to keep her hands still. “I have a tendency to say whatever is going through my head.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Chris said. “Gunshots will make anyone concerned.”

“Mom says I need to use the filter between my brain and mouth more often.”

“I’ve never had that problem.” He raised a brow at her. “Most people complain that I don’t tell them what I’m thinking.”

Violet believed it. The whole time she’d been around him, she’d had no clue what was going on in his head. She had been able to tell he was happy when he looked at the picture of his son and brother, but she didn’t know what he thought about their current situation. He was almost annoyingly calm.

“What about the gunshots?” she pressed. “Shouldn’t we do something?”

“Do what? Run out and try to find someone with a gun in the middle of the woods? We’re safest right here. Frisco probably knows every inch of this forest, and I noticed he handled that snowmobile like he’d been born on it. I felt confident about letting your mom leave with him.”

“Do you have a gun?” Violet held her breath.

He gazed at her for a few seconds. “Yes.”

She exhaled. “That’s good.” She felt a tiny bit better and focused on cleaning up the egg pan. She and Chris and Oro had finished every bite, she noticed as she remembered her mom hadn’t eaten before she left. I’ll make more when she gets back.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Chris said solemnly. “Your mom trusted me with your safety.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. His face was deadly serious. Clearly he was taking his role as protector to heart. Violet had already mentally moved on to plans for filling her time with some baking. When she was bored or nervous, she baked. “I know,” she said. “It’s okay. I’m not nervous anymore,” she lied. “Do you have baker’s chocolate?”

“I don’t think so. Could you substitute hot chocolate mix?”

Violet bit the inside of her cheek, holding back a laugh. “I’m afraid not.”

She heard the far-off hum of the snowmobile a split second after Chris turned his head toward the front door. Thank goodness. They’re coming back. She rushed to the window and looked down the long drive, willing her mother and Frisco to appear. A tiny figure on a snowmobile came around a curve and Violet squinted. Is Mom driving?

“Where’s the ranger guy?” she asked out loud. Chris silently watched over her shoulder as the snowmobile came closer to the cabin.

Violet stared. Her mother’s pale-green coat had stuff on it. Red stuff.

“What the fuck?” Chris muttered under his breath.

He strode to the door and yanked it open.

Chris leaped over the porch steps, his vision locked on Gianna.

She stopped the snowmobile and jumped off, nearly tripping as her boots sank into the snow.

“What happened?”

“Frisco’s dead.” Gianna gasped between pants as she stumbled toward him. “Someone shot him. At the cabin.”

He grabbed her forearms. Her eyes were wide, half her face covered in a light spray of red. A heavier spray covered the shoulder and front of her coat. She followed his gaze. “Oh, my God.” She yanked one arm away and smeared the mess more with her glove. He pulled her hand away from the blood.

“Mom!”

Gianna looked past him. “I’m okay. I’m not hurt.” Chris thought her voice was extremely calm for that of someone who’d just witnessed a violent death.

“Whose blood is that?” Violet squeaked.

Gianna swallowed. “It’s Frisco’s. He’s been shot.”