Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Shane

The cabin was locked up tight. Both the front and the kitchen doors refused to give way as Shane tested the knobs. He brushed away a few flakes of fresh snow off a window to peek inside. The lights were all on and the fire crackled away, but inside the cabin was still and silent.

Nobody home.

Not Milo. Not Pumpkin. Both his dog and his boy were missing.

What the hell. That boy wasn't his boy. Shane didn't know where that protective, bordering on possessive, urge came from. He tried hopelessly to bury it as he stood with his hands on his hips and squinted into the night.

Night had fallen fast and the snowfall was returning with a vengeance. Where in the world had Milo gone? More importantly, why had he left the cabin at all?

An uneasy feeling churned in Shane's stomach and a heavy weight grabbed hold of his heart. He hunched up his shoulders and swallowed thickly as he fetched a flashlight from his truck.

It was his fault.

Shane should have kept his promise.

He hadn't meant to be so late, but he'd stopped to chop a few fresh logs of wood before coming back. While he'd salvaged his belongings, his mind had kept wandering back to Milo. He hadn't been able to stop thinking that for all his warm and sunny behavior, the boy did a lot of shivering.

Shane shone the flashlight on the ground as he trudged around the cabin's perimeter. There was no sign of foul play anywhere, however unlikely that was. The only violence Hope Peak ever saw was the local drunks being idiots and hurting themselves.

Whatever had happened to Milo and Pumpkin was something innocuous. If they were lucky, it'd be Milo making another foolish decision because he didn't know any better. Him and his city slicker ways.

They'd have to have another talk about that. Or maybe Shane needed to take it upon himself to teach the boy better.

Yeah, maybe that. Shane liked that idea a whole lot.

With the snow falling so fast, Shane searched the treeline out behind the back porch. He got lucky and found a set of tracks: boot prints and paw prints.

It didn't explain why they'd set off, but it did show him what direction they went. He picked up the pace and followed his only clue.

* * *

Shane knew these woods like the back of his hand.

He'd spent his whole childhood cutting through the Tates' property to go fishing in the nearby creek or pick his mama a present in the wildflower fields. There might have been a lump of worry lodged in his throat, but there was no fear in his heart as he walked side by side with Milo's bootprints. The intimate clumping of the trees helped preserve the tracks.

His flashlight cut a path through the darkness and his voice carried on the wind.

"Milo!" he bellowed before he let out a sharp whistle and called for Pumpkin. Only the silent snowfall answered him. Shane wasn't so easily dispirited. He continued onward, hollering and waiting patiently for any sign of life.

When he heard only tree branches creaking under the weight of snow, he called out again.

On and on it went.

Until he finally heard something that was neither nature nor beast.

"Shane?" A voice called back. That was man. No, a boy. His boy. Shane no longer tried to ignore the possessive claim he felt for Milo. He sighed relief and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Stay there," Shane ordered, "I'll come to you. Say my name again and keep saying it."

He let Milo's voice be his guide through the dark woods. In no time at all, his light shone across the borough of a mighty oak tree. Shane rounded the trunk and that's when he found them: both boy and dog.

"Oh, there you are." Milo had his phone shining a feeble light in one hand and his other hand desperately held onto Pumpkin's collar.

"Yep," Shane drawled.

Pumpkin's ears were pinned back and her legs perfectly straight. Her face turned upward. Deep, repetitious growls left her throat. While she refused to move at Milo's gentle cooing, she didn't try to break from his hold either. She rested her weight against his calves.

Pumpkin was in guard dog mode.

Shane lifted his flashlight to his shoulder and shone it higher, higher, higher still. Far up in the branches, he revealed the source of the night's shenanigans: a black-masked bandit with a bushy tail.

"Goddamn raccoons," Shane cursed. The creature snarled down at him as he lowered the light and turned it back toward Milo and Pumpkin. He stepped toward the pair. Every bone in his body wanted to reach out and pull Milo's skinny bones into a bear hug.

"I'm so glad to see you. Sorry," Milo began to apologize, "she took off and I followed. I was worried something would happen to her. Or something had happened to you."

Shane shook his head while he passed the flashlight to Milo. They'd trade. Milo could take over flashlight duties and Shane would get Pumpkin under control.

"No need to say you're sorry. I shoulda been back on time and I shoulda mentioned it's okay if she takes off on her own. Gotta vendetta against every raccoon in the world, but she won't give chase for long. You going along probably turned her protective."

Shane understood that feeling all too well.

Milo huffed with laughter. The sudden warmth of his breath turned the air between them cloudy. "You know, I think that's the most I've heard you say since we met."

Milo finally let go of Pumpkin as Shane grabbed a hold of her. He crouched down, mindful of her snout, as he gave her a few reassuring pats. "That's a good girl. Settle down now. You got that mean old bandit, it's all right."

Pumpkin gave one last defiant ruff and the raccoon one final annoyed chitter. Lucky for all of them she hadn't caught the thing. Still, Shane was impressed all three of them had made it so deep into the forest during that merry chase.

The mental image of it might have been funny if Milo wasn't shivering so hard his teeth chattered.

Shane hoisted Pumpkin into his big arms without any issue. Despite her doggie jacket, she showed signs of being cold too. It was far too late and too cold for any of them to be out.

"Let's get back before y'all freeze to death."

"Or the cabin burns down."

"You worrying about the fireplace?" Shane shook his head. "Don't worry about that, it's got a spark guard."

"No, uh." Milo's shivers made him stumble all over his words. "I left the stove on."

"Goddamn, boy."

"It's on low!" he protested.

Shane cradled Pumpkin against his chest as he walked, wishing he could have carried them both.