Before she can try persuading me to explain it to her, I leave the cabin, slamming the door behind me. It’s started to snow. Light spills out of the cabin windows, and I feel the cold bite down into my bones a little deeper; it’s warm in there. Warm and bright and comforting with Sloane and her if-only wishes. I stand on the edge of the lake, and I know this is all a choice. I could choose to turn around and walk back inside, choose the warmth and the light and Sloane’s tempting offer of a bed with her in it. I think about taking the steps. Turning around, left foot, right foot, left, right, and then I’d be back in there with her. The mechanics of it are easy, but the reality of it fucking isn’t. I’ve once more chosen the cold, uncomfortable, solitary route, because I’m not ready to face that demon yet. The demon that plagues me in my sleep.

An hour later, Sloane opens the cabin door but she doesn’t come out. I hear the unmistakable scrape of ceramic on stone; when I turn to investigate, there’s a chipped white mug on the doorstep of the cabin and great wafts of steam are rising from it.

Hot chocolate. She must have found the kitchen alright, then. I didn’t even know I had hot chocolate. I collect the cup but I don’t drink the liquid inside. I just hold it, staring down at it until it goes cold and no more steam rises of the sweet smelling liquid, considering what it means to have someone to care for me. To not want me to get myself hurt. To look out for me.

A pair of headlights appear around twelve thirty, winding down the dirt track toward the cabin—Michael and Rebel, early. A black, mud-splattered Humvee pulls up out front and I can see exactly what Michael was talking about on the phone; Rebel looks pissed. He climbs out of the driver’s side and slams the door so hard the echo of the sound barks across the reservoir.

“Didn’t need to wait up for us, Dad,” he says. “Where’s my sister?”

“In-law,” I reply. Sloane would shit herself if she heard him calling her that. “She’s inside.” Michael slaps me on the shoulder; he looks exhausted, the look he gets when he’s propped up by too much coffee.

“We need to talk to her. To both of you,” he says.

I don’t particularly like the way Michael’s talking in we’s now; Rebel’s his cousin, I get that, but he’s been working for me for years now. More than that—he’s been my friend. I can do all of this on my own if I have to, but it’s a whole lot easier knowing he has my back.

We head inside; Sloane’s already on her feet and looking tentatively pissed off before she even lays eyes on Rebel. I know what’s on the horizon before she gets the opportunity to open her mouth.

“There she is,” Rebel says. She walks straight up to him and slaps him across the face. His head kicks to the side, and I have to fight the urge to smile. My girl’s got grit. I sincerely doubt there are many people in this world who could hit Rebel and get away with it. He nods, running his tongue over his teeth, as though he earned that one.

Sloane looks like she’s going in for a second, though. Rebel ducks backward, just narrowly avoiding the flat of her hand again.

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that?” she hisses.

“You’re sister’s told me a couple of times, yeah,” he responds. I’m waiting for him to say the wrong thing to her—I will lay his ass out cold—but he doesn’t. “Can I ask what I’ve done to deserve such a warm welcome, or is it just a general greeting that I can expect from here on in?”

“You tried to buy me,” Sloane snaps. “You were already with my sister by that point, and you tried to fucking buy me.”

I don’t know what it is about Sloane getting mad, but her cursing always serves to make my dick really fucking hard. A highly inappropriate reaction for right now, though. I’m actually very interested in what the guy has to say about this. Rebel looks taken aback. His surprise is short lived; he’s back on form within seconds, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, I was with Soph by then. But I haven’t stopped buying girls just because I’m with your sister, Doc.”

Michael flinches.

I flinch.

Sloane goes fucking postal. “Are you—are you fucking kidding me right now?” She charges, and I have to grab her up before she can reach him. Her arms and legs are everywhere, and she is far stronger than she looks. I grunt, trying to get a proper hold on her without doing any damage. I manage to send Rebel my coldest glare while doing this.

“You’d better explain what you mean by that or I’m letting her fucking go, and when she’s done I’ll be taking a turn,” I growl at him.

Rebel holds up his hands. “I buy girls. I buy them before they can disappear down the cracks. I find them a new place to live and a job if I can, and I make sure they don’t end up hooked on heroin or dead in a dumpster somewhere. Some of them end up in the fucking dumpster regardless of what I do to help them, but they end up there on their own terms, not because they’ve been kidnapped or coerced.” He gives Sloane a flat look, folding his arms across his chest. “Or blackmailed.”

Sloane goes still in my arms, and I can feel her heartbeat thumping like a trapped bird’s underneath my hands. “You weren’t—you didn’t want to—?”

“I knew you were her sister, Sloane. I’m not a fucking pig. Well, maybe sometimes I am but not where that’s concerned. I lost my claim on you. I panicked. I came back to Seattle to check on you but you seemed fine. A little frayed around the edges, but you were going to work. You were living. I figured everything worked out for the best, and I did not tell Soph.”