The rain had followed them most of the way to the small town. By the time they reached the sign that said Welcome to Cedar Hollow, the sky was heavy again and the air smelled of wet pine. The streets were almost empty. A few lights burned behind diner windows and a gas station sign flickered near the edge of town. Ethan slowed the car, glancing at Lily. “You still good?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just hungry enough to eat a whole menu.”

He smiled. “There’s a cabin place just up the hill. We’ll check in, then find food.”

The cabins sat behind a line of trees, wooden and quiet, lights glowing faintly through the rain. The woman at the desk wore a sweater two sizes too big and had gray hair pulled into a braid. She looked at them like she had seen every kind of traveler in her life. “Storm’s coming again,” she said. “You’ll want heat tonight. Cabin number four’s the coziest.”

Ethan paid while Lily watched the dog sleeping by the fire. The smell of burning wood filled the small office, warm and sweet. For a moment it felt like home, even though she didn’t know what home meant anymore.

The cabin was small, with two lamps, one big bed, and an old couch that creaked when she sat on it. The walls were lined with books someone had left behind. She ran her finger across a few spines and smiled when she saw a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.

“You can take the bed,” Ethan said, dropping his bag near the door.

She looked at him. “You can’t sleep in that chair again. I’ll feel bad.”

He shrugged. “I’ve slept in worse.”

“You’re impossible,” she said. “We’ll share again. Same rule. Stay on your side.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

They drove back down into town before the storm returned. The diner was half full. Old men watched a muted baseball game on the TV while a young waitress moved between tables with a tired smile. The smell of coffee and fries filled the room. Lily ordered soup and a grilled cheese, Ethan got a burger. When the food came, she realized how hungry she really was.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” she said through a mouthful.

“That’s because you’ve been living on vending machine sandwiches,” he said.

She laughed. “You’re not wrong.”

When they finished eating, they sat for a while just watching the rain against the window. It came down harder, drumming on the glass. The world outside was nothing but light and water.

Ethan spoke quietly. “You think we’ll ever go back to the same after this?”

Lily looked at him. “Same as before the trip?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “And maybe that’s good.”

He nodded, eyes on the window. “Maybe it is.”

Back at the cabin, the rain had turned to a steady roar. Thunder rolled over the hills. They lit the small fireplace, and the room filled with soft orange light. Ethan sat on the floor near the fire, back against the couch, eyes half closed. Lily curled up on the bed with a blanket over her shoulders.

“Reminds me of when I was a kid,” she said. “We used to lose power all the time in storms. My mom would light candles and tell stories until it passed.”

Ethan smiled. “Good stories?”

“She made them up. Usually about people who found things they didn’t know they were looking for.”

He looked into the fire. “Sounds familiar.”

They stayed quiet for a while. The kind of silence that doesn’t feel empty.

When lightning flashed through the window, Lily jumped a little. Ethan turned. “You scared?”

“Just respectful of electricity,” she said.

He laughed softly. “Come sit by the fire. It’s warmer here.”

She hesitated, then moved from the bed to the floor beside him. The heat felt good. The light touched his face, turning his eyes gold. For a moment she forgot how to look away.

He glanced at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just thinking you look less serious when you’re not saving lives.”

“That’s because you’re here,” he said without looking away.

Her breath caught. She tried to hide it by reaching for another log, tossing it onto the fire. Sparks jumped up, lighting the room for a second.

Outside, the storm reached its peak. Wind pressed against the windows. The lights flickered once, then again. The heater groaned. Then everything went dark.

“Oh great,” Lily said. “Perfect timing.”

Ethan stood, found his phone, turned on the flashlight. The narrow beam of light cut through the dark. “There should be candles somewhere.”

They searched the small shelves until Lily found a box of matches and two thick candles near the sink. She lit them, one by one. The soft yellow light filled the room again. Shadows stretched across the walls, dancing with the flames.

“Better,” she said.

“Much,” he agreed.

They ended up sitting on the floor again, backs against the bed. The candles flickered between them. The storm outside was loud, but inside it felt almost peaceful.

Ethan looked at her for a long moment. “You ever think about why people run toward chaos? Why we chose it for work?”

She smiled faintly. “Maybe because the quiet feels louder sometimes.”

He nodded. “Yeah. That sounds right.”

She turned her head toward him. “Do you miss it already?”

“The ER?” He thought for a second. “No. I think I miss the people more than the place.”

“You mean me,” she teased.

He smiled. “Especially you.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart fluttered anyway.

When the storm finally eased, they were both leaning against the bed, half asleep. The fire was down to soft embers. Lily turned her head and saw him watching the light fade. His expression was calm.

“Do you think your mom will be happy to see you?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I think I’m ready to find out.”

“Good,” she whispered.

He looked at her then, really looked, and said, “Thanks for coming with me.”

“You make it sound like I had a choice,” she said, smiling. “You’re hard to say no to.”

He laughed under his breath. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

Outside, the last drops of rain slid down the glass. Inside, the firelight flickered across two faces that were no longer strangers.

Lily closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the fire and the steady rhythm of his breathing beside her. For the first time in a long time, the quiet did not feel empty. It felt safe.

When she finally drifted off, she thought she heard him whisper something soft. Maybe her name. Maybe just the sound of someone who had stopped running.