Jack shrugged lightly. “Most people don’t.”
Another silence.
Longer this time.
Then—
Her knees buckled.
Jack caught her before she hit the ground.
This time, she didn’t fight him.
—
By the time they made it back to the house at the end of Miller’s Lane, the sun had dipped low, painting everything in soft amber. Mia ran ahead to open the door, already talking a mile a minute about towels and cookies and whether “rescued ladies” liked hot chocolate.
Jack guided the woman inside, careful but not hovering.
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