CHAPTER 98

When we arrived back at the rustic cottage from the hospital, it was exactly how I pictured it in my head from the description in her journal—now that I was actually paying attention to it. A well-worn sofa and chair were in front of a fireplace. To the left was a rudimentary kitchen with a table and two chairs. An open door led to a small bedroom, and beside it, a bathroom. That was the entire cottage. I sat Hazel on the sofa and turned to the fireplace. Soot and smoke from years of use had settled into the stone and brick, turning the entire mantle a dull gray. I added some logs and kindling, wanting a fire to warm up the cool interior.

“The flue sticks.” Hazel kneeled beside me, reaching past me to tug on the duct. She winced, and tried to hide it from me.

I struck a match, making sure the kindling caught, then stood, replacing the small screen. Bending down, I brought her to her feet, tugging her damp jacket off her shoulders, tossing it to the side. Wrapping my arms around her, I