Chapter Seven – Her Name Is Isla

We didn’t stop riding until the sun had vanished behind the mountains. My thighs were numb and my arms was shaking from holding on too tight, but I didn’t complain.

I didn’t say a word, neither did Cruz.

Not until we reached the cabin, then Cruz cut the engine.

My daughter, somehow still asleep between us, stirred against my back. He climbed off first, reached out and lifted her into his arms.

“She’s heavier than she looks,” he muttered.

I slid off the bike,“She’s four, full of attitude and ice cream.”

He cracked the smallest grin. “Like her mom, then.”

I stared at him.

That smile dropped.

Right.

We weren’t joking, not yet.

He carried her into the cabin and I followed, stepping into musty air and shadows. The place hadn’t been touched in years.

But it was safe.

Safer than home.

He laid her on the couch gently and stood there, staring down at her.

I stood beside him.

“She sleeps like you,” he said.

I looked at him. “How would you know?”

He didn’t answer.

“I need her name,” he said.

I