The snow came early and buried the road, leaving me alone with the woman the paperwork said I had to share this cabin with. Violet argues with that precise voice of hers, the birthmark at her collarbone showing when her coat slips, but I see how her shoulders drop when I get close, like she's waiting for the discipline she won't ask for.
I have spent years keeping people at a distance after too many losses, but her yielding skin under my hand might be the only way either of us stays. The fear of her walking out when the thaw comes sits in my chest heavier than the drifts against the door, and I know she carries the same terror.
In the mudroom, I place my palm against her back and feel her hold still instead of pulling away. One more second and I will have her bent over the bench, the legal folder still on the floor where it fell.
