I turn up the volume a notch as I rearrange a crooked garland and break into song.
This turns out to be a mistake. When I hitblueeee Christmas… the husky lets off a dramatic, operatic howl that rattles the windows.
“Oh, excuse me,” I laugh. “Are you the musical director now?”
He just tips his head right back and howls again, louder. Then the little dog decides to get involved, barking wildly like he’s trying to keep time.
Within seconds, it’s full on chaos—two enthusiastic canines performing a duet while I stand in the middle of the living room, laughing so hard I spill a box of baubles everywhere.
The tree sparkles, the music croons on, tinsel shimmers every time the dogs spin in circles, and the whole cabin buzzes with bright, ridiculous energy that I can’t help soaking up.
At last, I sink into the sofa, the lights winking softly around me. The other two dogs bound up ecstatically and jostle for space on my lap.
The room looks cheerful, like somewhere a normal couple might spend Christmas. For a second, I let myself picture it.
My body tucked into his; his big arms wrapped around me, keeping me safe and warm. Bickering whether we’re going to watch a rom-com or an action thriller.
Then the memory breaks apart.
The things he said before he left replay, sharp as broken glass. The way he looked at me, like I’d gutted him, when all I’d done was tell the truth.
My chest tightens. I press my palms against my eyes until I see stars. I shouldn’t still feel this way. Not after everything.
Outside, the wind hammers at the windows, a hollow, furious sound that matches the one inside my head.
Then the lamps flicker. Once, twice?—
Ping!
Total darkness.
“Crap.”
I wait, hoping the power will snap back on, but it doesn’t. The music stops, and the only sound left is the storm pressing at the walls and the faint hiss of snow against the glass.
Power cut?
I grab my phone off the counter—no signal of course. Doesn’t work this far up the mountain even when the weather’s good.
Panic flutters in my throat.
All alone out here, with no electricity.
Sheesh.
Then I look at the fire, still roaring.
At the stack of logs Holt brought in yesterday.
At the gas hob I used this morning.
I’ve got food.
Blankets.
Four extremely warm dogs.
I’ll be fine.
