Chapter 5
THE MORNING AIR is bitter, the sun brilliant. My face aches from the short jaunt from my truck to inside the office. I’m pressing my fingertips against my cheeks in an effort to warm them when Malcolm bursts through the front door.
The bell chimes; his face is glowing from excitement and the cold. He scoops me into a hug, tucking me inside his overcoat.
“You owe me a morning kiss and an evening kiss,” he says.
Inside the wool, the world is warm and safe. It smells of nutmeg and Ivory Soap frosted in winter. I nuzzle closer, intent on remembering how this feels, his arms around me, the thrum of his heartbeat. I hold still, hold on to the moment—this exact moment, the one before everything changes.
“Hey.” He clutches my chin and raises my face to his. “What’s wrong?”
“Carter
