"Tell me about the man in town," she says quietly. "What did you remember?"
"Drinking with him. Laughing. Like we were friends." I rest my chin on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. "And fighting. Back-to-back against multiple opponents. Moving like we'd done it before."
"So he's someone you trusted."
"Was. Past tense." The distinction feels important. "I don't know if I can trust him now."
She turns in my arms, looking up at me with those dark blue eyes. "What if he's looking for you because he's worried? What if he's trying to help?"
"Or what if he's the one who shot me?" I cup her face, my thumb stroking her cheekbone. "I can't risk it. Not with you here."
"I can take care of myself."
"I know you can." And I do. "But I'd rather you didn't have to."
She opens her mouth to respond, but I kiss her instead, swallowing whatever argument she was about to make. When I pull back, she's smiling again.
"You can't just kiss me every time you want to win an argument."
"Watch me."
The snow is really coming down now, the world outside the windows turning white. Maya pulls away from me and grabs her coat.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"Outside. Come on." She's already pulling on boots, her eyes bright with mischief. "When was the last time you had a snowball fight?"
"I have no idea."
"Exactly. So let's make a new memory."
I follow her out into the storm, and the cold hits me like a wall. But she's already scooping up snow, packing it into a ball, and the look on her face is pure mischievous joy.
The snowball hits me square in the chest.
"Oh, you're going to regret that," I say, bending to gather my own ammunition.
What follows is chaos. We chase each other around the cabin, throwing snowballs and laughing like children. She's fast, darting between trees, using the terrain to her advantage. ButI'm faster, and when I finally catch her, we both go down in a tangle of limbs and snow.
She's beneath me, her blonde hair spread across the white ground, her cheeks flushed from cold and exertion. Snow clings to her eyelashes, and she's laughing, breathless and beautiful.
"I win," I say, bracing myself above her.
"You cheated."
"How did I cheat?"
"You're bigger and stronger. That's cheating."
"That's called having an advantage." I lean down and kiss her, tasting snow and Maya and something that feels dangerously close to happiness.
We stay out until we're both shivering, then stumble back inside, shedding wet clothes and boots. I build up the fire while Maya makes hot chocolate, and we end up on the couch, wrapped in blankets, watching the flames dance.
"Thank you," I say quietly.
"For what?"
"For this. For making me feel human instead of just dangerous."