4. Alex

4

ALEX

A lex woke with a start, the cabin's quiet morning air chilling her to the bone. The fire had long since burned out, leaving only the faint smell of ash and the cool bite of winter seeping through the cracks in the weathered logs that made up the walls. Her neck ached from the awkward angle she'd slept in on the couch, and her muscles protested as she stretched, groaning softly.

The night had been long—too long, in fact. She hadn't expected a restful sleep, not with the storm howling outside like some angry, primordial beast, but she hadn't anticipated just how restless it would be. Vivienne had taken the bed, of course, as if she were entitled to it, leaving Alex with nothing but a thin blanket and the lumpy couch. Despite her irritation, Alex had bitten her tongue. Arguing with Vivienne in the middle of the night wouldn't help either of them, and she'd already been through enough that day. So, Alex had endured it, listening to the storm outside rage on as she stayed in her corner of the room.

She wasn't sure what bothered her more—the fact that Vivienne had claimed the bed so easily, or the way Alex had silently allowed it. Maybe it was the look in Vivienne's eyes as she settled in, that blend of entitlement and exhaustion. She wasn't used to people like Vivienne—used to luxury and ease—but there was something about her that nagged at Alex, like an itch she couldn't quite scratch.

Now, though, watching her chest rhythmically rise and fall, Alex felt an odd wave of protectiveness. The thick quilt was pulled up snugly, and Vivienne's face was softened in sleep, no longer guarded or sharp. She looked beautiful and almost vulnerable. A side of her Alex hadn't seen yet, and it made the frustration that had built the previous day feel distant, almost irrelevant.

Alex huffed softly, the sound barely audible over the relentless howling of the wind outside. She rubbed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts away. She shouldn't be feeling this way. She should be annoyed, very annoyed, by Vivienne's snide remarks and constant complaining. Yet here she was, watching her sleep like some kind of fool. There was no reason to pity her. Vivienne clearly had it all. But somehow, Alex couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her than she let on.

Alex forced herself to focus. The storm was getting worse, the wind slamming against the cabin's small windows with a force that made the weathered walls tremble. It wasn't safe to stay still for long. She needed to check the firewood and reinforce the windows again before the temperature dropped further. The storm would have them trapped for weeks if they didn't stay on top of it.

The cold air hit her like a slap as she stood, and she winced, pulling her thick wool sweater tighter around her shoulders. The cabin was drafty, the cracks and crevices around the windows and door letting in icy gusts that seemed to seep into her bones. She glanced at the bed once more, then crossed to the nearest window, peering out into the whiteout conditions. The blizzard was relentless, blurring the world into an indistinct haze of white, the trees and hills swallowed by the endless flurry of snowflakes. Alex had seen worse, but this felt different, heavier somehow, more ominous. She needed to make sure everything was secure.

She moved to the woodpile by the door, assessing what was left. It wasn't much. Enough for the morning, but if the storm didn't let up soon, they'd be in trouble. Alex grabbed another armful of logs, their weight familiar in her calloused hands, and stacked them carefully near the dormant stove. Her movements were quick and instinctive as she sorted the wood by size and dryness. Every minute counted. Her thoughts briefly drifted to Vivienne, still sleeping, but she pushed them away. She didn't have time to babysit someone who couldn't take care of themselves .

But still, as she worked, she noticed the soft sounds from the bed. Vivienne shifted, the rustle of sheets and creak of old mattress springs cutting through the eerie silence. Alex glanced over, expecting to see her still asleep, but instead, Vivienne's gaze met hers from across the room. Her eyes were half-lidded, not quite awake but not far from it either, and there was a vulnerability there that unsettled Alex more than any sharp retort or haughty comment ever had.

For a moment, Alex froze, caught in the quiet rawness that shone through Vivienne's bleary stare. Her face was pale in the weak light filtering in through the windows, and Alex saw something in her clear blue eyes—something fragile, something human. It made her chest tighten.

Alex quickly averted her gaze, her hands moving faster, almost frantic, as she continued to stack the logs. She could feel Vivienne's gaze on her, but she refused to acknowledge it. She couldn't afford to. Not with the storm closing in, not with everything that was at stake. She had to focus on the survival of the cabin, on keeping them both safe .

Still, the image of Vivienne's quiet, unguarded expression stayed in the back of her mind, making it hard to push aside the odd feeling that had stirred within her. It wasn't pity. Alex wasn't that kind of person. But there was something more to this woman than just her sharp tongue and brittle armor, and it intrigued Alex.

With a heavy exhale, Alex finished her work on the woodpile and turned to gather more supplies, her mind spinning. She had a job to do. She couldn't afford to be distracted. Not now.

The storm howled outside, its fury unabated, and in the silence of the cabin, Alex worked, her movements sure and steady, trying to block out the storm that raged both beyond the walls and within her own mind.

She left to do outside chores, and when she returned to the cabin, her cheeks numb from the biting cold and her fingers stiff from the chill, she found Vivienne standing near the fireplace, looking completely lost. The fire had burned low during Alex's absence, and Vivienne's eyes darted between the matches and remaining logs, as if unsure of where to even begin .

Vivienne glanced up as Alex entered, her face flushing slightly, the faintest line of frustration tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I was just trying to"—she paused, eyes falling back to the pitiful pile of kindling—"start the fire. But it's not as easy as it looks, is it?"

Alex couldn't help the smirk that tugged at her lips. "No, it's not. But it can be done."

She set her bag down by the door and moved toward the stove, eyeing Vivienne's failed attempt. The matches were already damp, and the kindling was poorly arranged; no wonder the fire wasn't catching. Alex's fingers twitched with the familiar need to take control, and she knelt down, gesturing for Vivienne to move aside.

"Here," Alex said, her voice firm but not unkind. She bent down, showing Vivienne how to arrange the kindling properly, stacking it loosely. Her fingers worked swiftly, placing each piece with precision. "If you want the fire to catch, you need to create space for the air to move or it'll just smother itself."

Vivienne watched her, still standing a little too far from the warmth of the stove. Her usual sharpness had softened a bit.

Vivienne stood with an innate grace, and the lovely lithe petite body of a dancer that Alex couldn’t stop her eyes from roving over, and Alex wondered if she had done ballet or dance in her younger years. Looking at her now, Alex figured her to be at least 10 years older than her own 39 years. Vivienne had to be over 50, even though, without her armor of make up this morning, she looked good on it. Too good.

Alex struck a match, lit it, and held it close to the dry kindling. It took just a moment for the small flames to catch, slowly climbing up the fragile wood. She watched Vivienne out of the corner of her eye as the fire took hold, noting the way her gaze shifted from skeptical to intrigued.

"Now," Alex continued, straightening and brushing her hands off. "You can keep it going by adding bigger logs once the kindling has burned down a bit."

Vivienne nodded, though she didn't quite meet Alex's eyes. She seemed a little less defensive now, the walls around her coming down just slightly. "Right. I'll try again."

Alex couldn't help but feel a little satisfaction at the change in Vivienne's attitude, but it wasn't enough to let her guard down. She turned away, collecting more wood and stacking it near the stove. "You'll need to keep the fire stoked. It's not enough to just light it once."

Vivienne hesitated before stepping forward, her movements slower now, more deliberate. She glanced at Alex, and for the first time, there was something approaching respect in her gaze. "You know a lot about this...survival stuff."

"Comes with the territory," Alex replied, her tone flat, though her chest tightened a little at the implied compliment.

Vivienne's lips twitched, as if she was trying to suppress a smile. It was a moment of quiet acknowledgment between them—a shift, subtle but undeniable. Alex felt a familiar tug of something deeper inside her, but this time, she wasn't sure if she was more irritated or intrigued by it.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, their motions synchronized as they tidied up the cabin and prepared for the next wave of the storm. Alex showed Vivienne where and how to store the firewood properly, explained how to check the windows for cracks that might let in the cold air. Vivienne's responses were clipped, but she no longer snapped at every instruction.

As they moved closer together, Alex noticed the way Vivienne's dark hair fell around her face as she concentrated, partially obscuring her features. She pushed it back from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear in a way that seemed almost...intimate. Alex felt the pull of it, the small gesture suddenly becoming a point of focus. She swallowed, looking away, pretending she hadn't noticed. But the image lingered, the soft strands of hair and the curve of Vivienne's jaw etching themselves into her memory.

Their proximity, too, was becoming impossible to ignore. They were side by side now, moving in a rhythm that didn't require words. Each time they passed close, Alex caught the faint, floral scent of Vivienne's perfume, and she found herself unconsciously adjusting her posture, trying to ignore the flutter of awareness stirring in her chest.

Vivienne made her hungry. In a way she hadn’t been for years.

"Thanks for the help," Vivienne said quietly as she bent to grab a fresh log for the fire, her voice a little softer than usual.

Alex glanced at her, unsure whether to respond with the usual sarcasm or something else. But there was a quiet sincerity in Vivienne's tone that disarmed her. She gave a small nod. "Just doing what needs to be done."

They worked for a while longer, the silence between them no longer uncomfortable, just different. The storm continued to rage outside, but inside the cabin, the air felt less tense. The flickering light of the fire illuminated their faces in the dim room, casting long shadows on the weathered walls.

Alex felt a shift within herself, though she wasn't sure what to make of it. Beneath Vivienne's high-maintenance exterior, she was starting to see cracks—fragile moments of humanity that made Alex question everything she thought she knew about the woman. The way her eyes softened when she listened, the way she didn't protest as Alex showed her how to use the stove, the way she accepted her help without further resistance.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to make Alex wonder just what was hidden beneath Vivienne's carefully constructed facade.

As the daylight faded, the cabin was swallowed by the deepening shadows of the night. The storm outside had become a relentless, primal roar, the wind rattling the small windows and the gnarled trees bending under the weight of the snow. Alex stood by the stove, the warmth of the fire against her skin almost a comfort in comparison to the howling cold beyond the cabin's walls.

The evening was quiet, save for the crackle of the fire and the rhythmic clink of metal utensils as she prepared the last of their canned goods, turning them into something that resembled a simple but nourishing meal—a far cry from the luxurious fare Vivienne was undoubtedly accustomed to.

Vivienne's footsteps echoed behind her, hesitant at first, but gaining confidence. "Do you need help?" Her voice was tentative, but the offer felt almost genuine. It surprised Alex. She'd assumed Vivienne would avoid any effort that wasn't immediately comfortable or convenient.

Alex glanced over her shoulder, catching the uncertain look on Vivienne's face. She nodded toward the small cutting board on the counter. "You can chop the vegetables. If you're careful, they won't end up in the pot whole."

Vivienne gave a little huff, rolling her lovely blue eyes as she moved to the counter. "I'm not exactly a chef."

Alex couldn't suppress a smirk. "I can tell."

The air between them lightened with the exchange, the sharpness that had marked their interactions earlier replaced with something more awkward, but oddly more comfortable. Vivienne took the knife, her grip unsteady at first, the blade slipping a little too close to her fingers. Alex was about to offer help when Vivienne steadied herself, her movements becoming more measured.

She didn't say anything, but Alex caught the way her brow furrowed in concentration, how the tip of her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth as she focused. Something about it was unexpectedly endearing.

The fire crackled behind them, the flames casting flickering shadows across the cabin walls. The warmth from it wrapped around them both, creating an oddly intimate atmosphere. Alex watched Vivienne for a long moment, wondering, not for the first time, what lay beneath the surface of the woman who had irritated her so thoroughly earlier.

"You're doing better than I thought," Alex said.

Vivienne looked up, her eyes catching Alex's for a brief moment. "I'm full of surprises." There was something in her gaze—a flash of vulnerability, quickly hidden behind a veil of sarcasm.

Alex turned back to the stove, stirring the pot with a little more force than necessary, not wanting to acknowledge the unexpected twist in the evening. "You don't have to pretend with me," she said after a long silence, not really meaning to speak the thought out loud.

Vivienne stiffened at the comment, her fingers pausing in mid-air as she reached for another vegetable. Her voice, when it came, was more careful now. "I don't know what you mean."

Alex shrugged, unable to explain what she had seen—the small, almost imperceptible shift when Vivienne's bravado cracked just for a moment. "Just...don't make yourself miserable because you think you have to be.”

Vivienne's eyes darted to the floor for a second, then back up, guarded again. She pressed her lips together and nodded, though it was clear she was trying to dismiss the conversation. "What about you, then? How do you manage all this?"

Alex paused, the question unexpected. For a moment, she considered sharing something more personal, but the walls went up before she could even begin. She wasn't one to invite that kind of vulnerability, not here, not now. Not with her.

"Just get used to it," Alex said, her tone more clipped than she had intended. She met Vivienne's gaze, her words a little harder than she'd meant them to be. "You'll figure it out."

The silence that followed was thick, filled with the weight of unspoken things. The smell of the simple but hearty meal began to fill the cabin, warm and comforting. Vivienne took her seat at the small table, her body language still guarded, though less tense than before. The storm outside raged on, but inside, there was a quiet sort of truce between them, a rare moment of peace.

Dinner was eaten in an awkward silence, the only sounds the clink of cutlery against plates and the occasional crackle from the fire. The warmth from the stove filled the space, but Alex still couldn't shake the discomfort gnawing at her.

Once the dishes were cleared, the moment of decision arrived—the familiar, unavoidable question of where they would sleep. Alex had already resolved it in her mind: she would take the couch again. It was the only way to avoid another uncomfortable night spent in close proximity to Vivienne, who had already claimed the bed with that same entitled air.

She could share the bed with Vivienne, but she didn’t trust the hunger that was growing deep inside of her.

She rose from the table and stretched, then moved toward the small couch by the wall, a ritual she had settled into without much thought. She expected Vivienne to say something—anything—perhaps a snide comment about the arrangement. But when she turned around, she found Vivienne still seated.

Vivienne hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, her gaze dropping to the floor. Her usual confidence was gone, replaced by a vulnerability that tugged at something deep within Alex. "You don't have to sleep on the couch," she said quietly, her words strangely sincere. "There's plenty of room in the bed."

Alex felt a strange twinge in her chest at the offer. It was unspoken, but it carried an understanding—an acknowledgment of the discomfort that had passed between them, a silent olive branch. Her heart raced, and for a moment, she was tempted to accept, to allow herself the comfort and warmth of sharing the bed. But her rational mind kicked in, reminding her of the need to maintain a distance.

"No," Alex replied quickly, her voice almost too sharp. She couldn't let this shift in their dynamic pull her in. She had to keep her guard up. "It's fine."

She moved to the couch, settling herself onto it with deliberate care. The fabric was rough against her skin, and the weight of the day pressed down on her, but it was nothing compared to the weight of Vivienne's presence. She could feel it, even from across the room—the subtle tension that hadn't quite resolved.

As the night deepened and the storm raged louder, Alex lay awake on the couch, her body tense despite the exhaustion that weighed heavily on her. The howling wind outside seemed to mirror the turmoil inside her chest, a swirl of conflicting emotions: frustration, protectiveness, and, worse yet, a growing attraction that she couldn't quite shake.

She closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but the image of Vivienne, the way she had looked at her so invitingly just a moment ago, imprinted in her mind. Alex took a steadying breath, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to care. But the storm outside wasn't the only thing that felt like it might break her.

As the night wore on, the fire in the stove began to die down, casting longer shadows across the cabin. Alex listened to the sound of Vivienne's breathing from the bed, her own eyes refusing to close. The quiet intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, and she found herself wishing, against her better judgment, that she had accepted Vivienne's offer.

The cabin felt colder without the bed's warmth, and Alex pulled the scratchy blanket tighter around her shoulders, trying to block out the growing chill. She knew she should get up and tend to the fire, but the thought of leaving the couch, of putting more distance between them, felt like too much. Instead, she lay there, lost in the storm of her own thoughts, waiting for the first hints of dawn to creep in through the windows.