He’d felt her the moment she appeared at the bottom of his mountain. The fact that she’d chosen to trudge up the slopes instead of just coming to his door is curious, but he lets her take her time. It just means there’s a warm fire roaring in the hearth behind him when he finally tugs his door open to greet her.

And the sight of the expression on her face has understanding flaring in his own golden eyes.

He steps out into the snow, wrapping his arms around her and dragging her into a warm hug, tucking her close against his chest. He’d know they were close, but…

“Come on. We can raid my wine cellar. Surely there must be a vintage down there potent enough to drown out feeling too much for a little while.”

Because he knows how that feels. Had lost a decade or so to it himself, when he’d first made this place and escaped to it.

He’ll pry more once she’s managed to numb it a little.