And how I want so much more.
10
We step out of the stall, boots crunching in straw, the cold air rushing over my overheated skin like a slap of reality. The scent of hay cuts through the haze we were wrapped in only moments ago.
Sam’s hand brushes mine as we walk, and even though we don’t touch again, the ghost of it lingers like a promise.
Phern’s at the far end of the barn, crouched near a beam that's cracked clean through and sagging just above one of the far stalls.
“I was bringing in a fresh water bucket when I heard the pop,” she says, glancing back at us.
Sam’s expression hardens instantly. Gone is the easy smirk, the slow drawl. He moves with purpose now, stepping past me and crouching beside the beam with practiced precision.
“Support’s rotted out,” he mutters. “Snow must’ve pushed too much weight on the roof.”
“Think it’s safe for now?” I ask, stepping up beside Sam, my eyes scanning the cracked beam.
“No,” he says flatly, voice low and certain. “But there’s not much we can do until the snow’s done.”
He exhales, frustration flickering across his face. “The horses should be okay for now. We'll keep the door open so they can move in and out, but we’ll have to monitor that beam.”
Phern crosses her arms. “I’m not going to point out that I said I was afraid this would happen.”
Sam glances at her, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”
She smirks, unbothered. “I said I wasn’t going to. Totally different.”
Despite the tension thick in the air, Sam’s lips twitch into a smile, and something soft unfurls in my chest. He’s standing there, hands braced on his hips, snow clinging to his coat, barn creaking ominously overhead and he still has room for teasing.
I can’t help but compare it to someone else. If Kurt were here, I think, he’d be yelling. Blaming someone. Anyone. Making it worse. That’s who he was. Who he always turned into when things got hard.
But Sam?
He’s calm. Present. Kind. Even now.
And that slight difference?
It feels huge.
Like something I didn’t know I was starved for until this moment.
“Not much more we can do,” Sam says, his breath clouding in the freezing air. “Let’s head back to the main house.”
Before I can move, he reaches out and grabs my hand.
Phern lifts a brow, watching the motion with sharp interest.
Before I can come up with some casual, noncommittal excuse, Sam just tugs me along like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal.
Outside, the wind has picked up. Heavy snowflakes swirl through the air, blinding and biting. The barn vanishes behind us within a few steps, swallowed up by white.
I shiver and move closer, drawn by instinct. He doesn’t hesitate, just shifts slightly, shielding me from the wind as best he can with his body.
“Bet you’re glad you’re not stuck in that Prius right now,” he says, raising his voice over the wind.
I snort, teeth chattering. “No doubt about that. Although the seat warmers were nice.”
“You’ve got me now,” he teases, squeezing my hand gently. “Human seat warmer. Limited edition.”
