Page 86 of Gunnar

I turn onto my other side, dragging the blanket tighter around me. Tabitha makes a small, irritated sound and resettles, pushing her tiny head into my armpit.

The lodge creaks quietly. Wind presses against the walls. Somewhere, a pipe knocks and goes still again.

I close my eyes.

Relax.

Go to sleep.

I’m just starting to drift when a sound pulls me back up again.

A voice.

Low. Rough. Male.

Then another.

I go still.

For a second I think I’ve imagined it, but then I hear it again—closer this time, sharper. Not shouting—worse, somehow. The kind of voices men use when they’re trying not to lose their tempers.

I push myself up on one elbow.

Tabitha lifts her head, ears twitching.

The sound is coming from the hall.

No—farther down. The kitchen, I think.

I hold still and listen.

“—not asking you,” someone says.

Gunnar.

“You’re acting like a fool.”

Orson.

“No,” Gunnar says. Flat. Hard. “I’m done pretending otherwise.”

I sit up fully now.

Tabitha makes a questioning chirrup and stands, tail brushing my thigh. I put a hand on her automatically, but all my attention is on the door.

I shouldn’t be listening.

Not my fault they’re talking so loud though.

There’s a scrape. A chair leg, maybe.

Then Orson again, louder now, like he’s moved closer to the door.

“You keep her safe here till this blows over, fine. But this⁠—”

“This what?”

I can hear the edge in Gunnar’s voice now. Not raised. Just stripped down to something that sounds worse.