The biting Massachusetts autumn wind whipped around Bronwen, rattling the weathered wood of her childhood treehouse. It was her sanctuary, a crumbling fortress against the storm that was her father, Samuel. Inside, curled on the muddy ground, she clutched a tattered jacket, the cold seeping into her bones. Her fingers, stiff and swollen, barely held her book. Hours she’d been hiding, the familiar fear a dull ache in her chest.

Then, a voice. “Bronwen!” Not Samuel. Alec. Relief flooded her, a warmth more comforting than any jacket. A blonde head, Alec’s best friend Noah, poked through the window, a grin splitting his face. “She’s in here.”

Bronwen crawled out, her pants damp, her face numb from the cold. “How long?” Alec asked, concern etched on his face. “A few hours. Where is he?”

“Bar, as usual. Staying at Myrna’s tonight.” Alec pulled her into a comforting embrace, leading her towards the dilapidated house. The unexpected warmth of his arm made her shiver, realizing just how truly frozen she was.

As they neared the porch, her eyes drifted to Noah, the boy who had unknowingly held her heart for years. He was just a friend, Alec’s best friend, yet a primal awareness sparked whenever he was near. Inside, Alec gently nudged her towards the bathroom. “Go take a hot shower… I’ll make you hot tea.”

Upstairs, wrapped in her mother’s too-small terry cloth robe, Bronwen headed for the bathroom, lost in thought. She ran straight into a solid wall of muscle. Strong hands gripped her arms, steadying her. “Woah.”

She looked up, straight into Noah’s eyes. Her breath hitched. His gaze dropped, lingering on the deep swell of her cleavage. A nervous flush crept up her neck. This was new. This was terrifying. And a part of her, a foolish, hopeful part, yearned for it.