“Any chance it’s already fixed?” I ask, trying to sound casual, even though the answer hurts no matter what it is.
Sam shakes his head. “Doubt it. It’ll take more than a clear day to fix that structure.”
Phern nods. “But if we can get across in a truck, we’ll be able to resupply.”
I smile again but feels fake. Because every mention of town, of roads, of bridges… it’s a reminder that this little world we’ve been trapped in is about to open back up. And when it does? There’s no telling what we’ll be to each other.
Sam watches me quietly over the rim of his mug, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
Or if I’m the only one already bracing for goodbye.
“I’m ready when y’all are,” I say, rising from the stool and draining the last of my coffee.
Phern chuckles, grabbing her coat from the hook by the door. “That ready to get out of here?”
I shake my head, managing a small smile. “No. But I should probably let my job know I’m still alive before they put my picture on a milk carton.”
She makes a face, not quite amused. “True. Well, let’s go.”
Sam silently hands me his coat, even though I’m already wearing one of his sweatshirts. The smell of him is feeling like home, which is dangerous.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
He just nods, eyes catching mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary. There’s something unspoken there. Something that feels likeplease don’t pull away from me now.
I follow them outside, the cold biting but not brutal. The sun’s doing its best to melt the snowdrifts, glittering across the fields in blinding sparks. We crunch across the icy ground toward the barn. Sam goes to a giant tractor, starting it.
I watch the tractor lumber forward, its engine rumbling like a slow heartbeat against the hush of melting snow. Sam sits tall behind the wheel, focused, calm, like the past twenty-four hours haven’t left us both unraveling.
Beside me, Phern folds her arms across her chest, letting the silence hang just long enough before nudging again.
“Everything okay between the two of you?”
I snort, the sound brittle. “I’m not sure.”
She cocks her head. “Care to elaborate? I promise I won’t judge you too much.”
I huff a soft laugh, but it dies quickly. My eyes drift back to the tractor, to the path Sam’s cutting. It’s clean, wide, opening the way forward.
A literal metaphor for our situation.
“I think we were both pretending this wouldn’t end,” I admit quietly. “Like the snow would trap us forever and we could just stay in this little bubble. But the sun came out. And now I can’t stop thinking about what comes next.”
Phern doesn’t say anything, just waits.
“I like him,” I add, my voice cracking around the edges. “A lot.But we’ve only known each other for a few days, and it’s been this intense, chaotic storm of lust and intimacy and—God—it’s been amazing, but…”
“But it feels like it can’t last,” she finishes for me.
I nod.
The tractor turns at the end of the drive, Sam shifting gears like he’s part of the machine, totally unaware that I’m here cracking like thin ice.
“Do you think he feels it too?” Phern asks.
I glance at her. “The pressure?”
“No. The realness.”
