Page 8 of Branded Mine

Wind bent the trees along the fence line until their branches scraped against one another like bones.

I rushed inside and made sure all the windows were closed before grabbing my cell. My phone had one bar, then none.

I found the flashlight I’d packed and moved through the house. Every room felt colder without power, and shadows crept into corners that had looked harmless only minutes earlier.

The power kept flicking in and out and finally stayed on, but who knew for how long. Another crack of thunder shook the walls, and something slammed outside. I jumped. For one stupid second, I imagined my father stumbling through the front door, whiskey on his breath and rage in his eyes.

The memory vanished as quickly as it came, and I squeezed my eyes shut, hating I still carried this trauma all these years later. Through the howling wind and violent rain, I heard a truck engine rumble up the drive, and a second later, headlights swept across the windows.

I didn’t need to look to know whose truck it was. My gut told me Ryder was here in three… two… one… A heavy knock sounded on the front door followed by a booming voice.

“Lila.”

I let out an exasperated sigh and opened the door. Water streamed off the brim of his hat and down the shoulders of his jacket.

“Power’s out all over,” he said without preamble and let himself in. I stumbled back, scoffing at the audacity of this man. “Heard a tree come down near the house. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Lightning exploded close enough to make the house tremble. The porch light burst with a sharp crack, showering tiny pieces of glass across the weathered boards. I jumped, instinctively stepping backward.

“Easy,” Ryder said, his voice low and steady. His hand closed around my forearm just long enough to guide me away from the broken glass before he let go.

Thunder rolled overhead, hard enough to rattle every window in the house. The lights inside flickered a few times theneverything went black. For a second, neither of us moved as rain hammered the roof so loudly it drowned out everything else.

“Well,” I muttered into the darkness as I clicked on the flashlight still in my hand. “This day just keeps getting better and better.” Ryder gently removed it from my hand, and I was about to bitch when I saw him sweep the beam across the porch.

He was examining the damage before moving the light back on me. “Power’s out,” he said.

I gave him a flat look. “No kidding. I thought the sudden blackout was just for ambiance.” I looked past him toward the road. Rain came down in solid sheets, turning the pasture into a blur of gray. Water rushed through the ditch along the gravel drive, already beginning to spill over.

“No generator.” Not a question but a statement of fact.

“Nope.”

He gave a single nod, beads of water still dripping off his hat. “My place has one. You’re comin’ with me.”

“I'm fine. It’s just a little storm. I don’t need rescuing, Ryder.”

“I know.” Beneath the brim of his hat, his dark gaze held mine, heavy and unreadable. “But I ain’t leavin’ you here without power in the middle of this storm.”

There wasn’t an ounce of pressure in his voice. Just that quiet, unrelenting certainty that made arguing feel pointless. I glanced around the house. The old place suddenly felt bigger in the dark. Scarier and colder. Every creak of the walls seemed louder without the lights.

Another crack of thunder shook the entire place. Before I could answer, a loud crack split the air. A massive tree limb came crashing down, punching straight through the living room window. Glass shattered and rain immediately blew inside.

I cried out at the sudden violence of it all. “Damn it,” I breathed out shakily.

Ryder didn’t say a word. He just looked at me, waiting.

I let out a slow breath. “Fine.”

He gave a single nod. “Grab what you need.”

I hurried upstairs with the flashlight, throwing a change of clothes, my toothbrush, and a few essentials into an overnight bag. When I came back downstairs, I paused in the hallway. Ryder had already covered the broken living room window as best he could with an old sheet he must have grabbed from inside the house, tacking it roughly over the jagged opening to keep the worst of the rain out.

Water still dripped through in places, but it was something. The small act settled strangely in my chest… quiet, practical, and undeniably him.

“Ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”