Rissa’s POV

The morning crept in slow and grey, the kind that made it hard to tell if the world was healing or just holding its breath. The fire had burned down to embers, throwing dull light across the cabin’s cracked walls. Josh was still out cold on the cot, skin clammy, his breathing shallow but steady.

I sat beside him, rinsing a cloth in a bowl of cold water, wiping the sweat from his face. His skin burned under my fingers. Every time I told myself to stop caring, my hands refused ...