I awoke aware and uneasy just before dawn. Rain had dissipated, leaving a tense silence, punctuated only by the ebb and flow of low tide. The sound of the ocean always brought comfort, but in the moment, it felt ominous, like a sleeping dragon.

Noah wasn’t next to me.

I pushed the covers back, and gooseflesh paraded up and down my arms and legs at the chill. He used a woodstove for heating, but the fire had receded to embers and needed more fuel. Noah’s flannel lay closest to me, so I grabbed it and slipped inside. His scent rose around me and I tried to take comfort in it, but my uneasiness continued to nip at me.

Holding my breath, I padded beyond the bedroom and into the den, careful to avoid any creeks in the wooden floor. The atmosphere felt heavy with impending threat, and although it confused me, I trusted my instincts.

Noah stood in front of his west window staring out into the last remnants of night. Although dim grey light from impending dawn touched the muscles in his shoulders, he remained largely in shadow, motionless. He only wore a pair of boxers, but seemed unbothered by the cool temperature.

His body looked taught, like a wire pulled to its extreme.

Or an active land mine.