Not how my skin still burns where she kissed me.
Not the trust in her eyes when she told me her truth.
Not what I want to do if she chooses me.
And not how much I want her to.
five
. . .
Holly
I waketo the sound of a door closing. Careful. Like someone not wanting to wake me.
I sit, disoriented. All I see through the window is darkness. I throw back the quilt and get out of bed.
The fire’s burning low in the main room. And…
Cole’s gone.
The cabin’s empty. His coat’s gone from the hook. His boots are missing.
Dread pools heavy in my gut.
The bag. He went for the bag.
I check the time on my phone: 3:47 a.m.
Cole said he’d wake me. Why didn’t he wake me?
I peer out the window. Snow falls. Not the gentle kind. The horizontal, blinding kind that erases everything.
My chest tightens.
How long has he been gone? Five minutes? Ten?
I pad to the door and stop. Should I wait? He knows the ridge and is capable, and he told me not to go out.
But what if something happened? What if he’s hurt?
I check my phone again: 3:49 a.m.
Two minutes. It feels longer.
I’ll give him ten. If he’s not back by then, I’ll…
What? Go after him and make things worse?
I pace, counting the seconds and watching the window.
3:52.
The wind howls. Snow pelts the glass.
3:54.
This is stupid. I shouldn’t have asked him to get the bag. I should’ve…
