Chapter 32

Wind howls outside as we crouch around the crackling fire. After he cleaned up my forehead, Cal used some of our water supply to wash the matted clumps of dirt and blood from my hair, which was oddly sweet, considering his displeased demeanor toward me. I comb my fingers through the strands as an orange glow from the stove flickers on the walls. We’ve been sitting in silence for probably twenty minutes. He grabs his bag and locates his phone.

“You have service this high up?” I ask.

“You usually do at the top…” He walks around the small space. “I’m not getting anything in here though.”

His fingers swipe across the screen.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Writing a text, hoping if I go out on the catwalk, I’ll get a bar or two, enough for it to send.”

“Did you tell anybody where you were going?”

He doesn’t respond as he taps out a message, and it soon becomes apparent he’s not going to. I told no one either. My gaze returns to the flames in front of me. My core temp is finally coming up, and I’ll never take warmth for granted again. I don’t care that I’m stranded at the top of a mountain with the man who hates me. He may have crushed my weak heart, but he’s also the reason it’s still beating.

With my eyes fixed on the fire, he shoves his newly heated feet back into his boots and shrugs on his coat, the snow that clung to it when he walked in is now nothing more than beads of water. He opens the door and steps out quickly. The cold air rushes in and quickly settles.

We’re shrewd enough to know sharing that twin bed is the best option, but neither of us have acknowledged it yet. There’s no polite you take the bed, I’ll take the floor conversations happening; that’s out of the question. We need to share body heat. We’re in survival mode.

The dancing flames before me are mesmerizing, but with each blink, my eyelids grow heavier and scratchier. I’m unsure if it’s due to exhaustion or actual dirt. Maybe a little of both; my body is spent. Turning my back to the fire, I allow it to heat my thermal until it’s too much to bear. The room’s overall temperature has gone up enough for me to back away from the stove. I stand and pull back the wool blankets on the bed, then crawl into the cold, crisp sheets. My teeth chatter, but the second my head hits the pillow, my entire body melts into the mattress.

A smile grows on my lips. “High. Cotton.”

To my stiff aching muscles, the bed feels like a cloud. Closing my eyes, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to peel them open again. I curl into the fetal position and use my body heat to warm myself and the blankets around me.

Callahan comes back inside, announcing, “No signal.”

I pretend to be asleep, listening to him stock the stove with more wood and adjust the damper accordingly. Before long, the bed dips, and he scoots me to the edge, placing himself between me and the cold wall of windows. We lie side by side like sardines. He smells like the forest, same as when we were in Oregon together, and the scent engulfs me. I’ve missed it .

“Curve into me,” he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. Goose bumps spread like wildfire across my body. The way he says it is so affectionate it hurts. I swallow when he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me into his chest and hips. The warmth of him at my back feels like coming home. Which is odd, because home is supposed to be stable and constant, and he is anything but. He is fleeting .

This isn’t cuddling, it’s self-preservation and nothing more. As much as it pains me, I can’t help but soften in his arms. How terrible would it be to pretend for one night… just one last time, that it’s not for survival? A tear leaks from my eye. That’s not unusual when one is sleepy, but this one is accompanied by an ache inside my ribs and a lump in my throat. It’s something I never thought I would feel again, at least not with Callahan Woods. He’ll never be mine… so why does he hold me like I’m his?