Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 113: Grace: Daddy Material

The display for Lyre’s solar power says 1,384W in, 98% battery, and then a number to actually make my stomach flip:

Estimated Runtime: 3h 12m.

Three hours? That’s it?

I glance at the humming AC vents, the dehumidifier pulling swamp air from every corner, and the fridge. We’re pulling too much. Even with solar pouring in, it’s not enough.

How is that possible with 98%?

My fingers hover over the thermostat. I can’t shut everything off, but maybe I can cut the second AC. That’s one less thing bleeding our battery dry.

But first I have to figure out how.

"What’s wrong?" Caine’s voice comes from directly behind me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body without him actually touching me.

I step quickly to the side, putting six more inches between us. "I have no idea what any of this means." I gesture at the panel. "How much power do we have? How long before we’re out? I don’t know anything about solar."

All I know is it’s expensive, which makes me wonder even more about how Lyre gets by.

He leans in to examine the display, his dark brows furrowed. The muscles in his arm tense as he braces himself against the wall, making sure not to brush against me. We’ve become experts at this careful dance of almost-contact.

know jack-shit about solar," he admits, straightening. "But I’ve

know. "I’ve never seen

"I’ll check the

the kitchenette and living room, going on about lasers and dinosaurs—and Bun’s sudden

onto the dinette table and

across the room, catching her just before she can grab the swinging pendant light. She squeals in protest as I set her down on the bench seat, my heart hopscotching its way

crawl under

me to take the bedroom, since we’ll need

make sense in theory: me, Sara, and Bun in Lyre’s queen bed; Ron and Jer on the daybed I’d used, though it’ll be a tight squeeze; Caine on the couch. In practice,

swings open, and Caine pops his head in. "Found

My stomach drops. "Fuel?"

I’m not sure how much propane we have, so we’re going to need to get some gas. We emptied all her water jugs, too, so we need

flicker of panic ignites in my chest. We need the AC running. Bun’s too small to handle this kind of heat—but even

mild annoyance before, but now it’s my biggest concern, outside from the strange itchy feeling between my

more food." I mentally

I join him, staying far enough away that our shoulders don’t touch, but I sneakily breathe deep to experience his scent a little more thoroughly. Seriously, he smells

smell like him thing I’ve heard about. I would wear his shirts every day just for that

boondocking just means no hookups at a campground, aka "being off-grid"—is basically a wide dirt clearing nestled in shallow hills. No trees for shade, just scrubby plants and packed earth. The fifth-wheel sits in a slightly lower area where recent rain has created muddy tire ruts and small puddles. A few