Chapter 9

He told me that Grady had brought my bow inside, and so while he spent time with me playing number games, he whittled me more arrows, the scent of fresh pine mixing with his caramel and wood smoke smell quite nicely. He seemed genuinely interested in me, and his warmth and laughter seeped under my skin and blossomed up into a constant smile that made my cheeks hurt.

He couldn't cook for shit though.

After a stew he'd served with meat that had tasted seconds past raw, he crossed toward me. "This will help wash that trash down, I bet. Sorry about that."

"It's fine. I didn't feel anything kick in my mouth, so that's promising."

"Things are looking up, then." He chuckled and stopped at the edge of my bed, with what sounded like a teacup rattling crazily against its saucer as he handed it to me.