My stomach knots. “What? Where will we go? What will we do?”
Concern scrolling across his features, Fletch looks over our shoulder at the wall of white behind the truck.
“It doesn’t look like we can go back.”
The couple’s parting words were to be careful on the roads. I wish we were still in their warm farmhouse.
He sends a text. “Working on it.”
“What about the dog?” He has become such a fixture in our lives in this short time that the thought of him alone worries me.
Focused, Fletch types rapidly on his device. “Please text Nina. I have a hidden key so she can check on him. We need to find shelter soon.”
Thirty minutes later, because of the slow going, we’re pulling up to a small cabin nestled among snow-laden pines.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Coach Badaszek’s fishing cabin by the lake. He said any of us could come here for emergencies.” Fletch cuts the engine.
“I wish this were one of those ‘Better safe than sorry emergency plan scenarios,’” I snark with a shiver.
“For a guy like him, the need to get away from it all by going fishing in the summer, or ice fishing in the winter, might fall under the banner of an emergency.” He smirks. “Unfortunately, I don’t want to risk these roads tonight. It’s going to be icy.”
Taking a deep breath, I nod, grateful he knew what to do and where to go to get us to safety.
Inside, the cabin is simple but cozy—one main room with a kitchenette, a stone fireplace, and a small bathroom off to the side.
Fletch immediately sets to work on the fire while I explore our temporary shelter.
“Nina says the dog is fine,” I say, grateful for cell phone service.
“And we aretoo,” Fletch replies with a slim smile meant to reassure me—and it does.
If I’d been alone—unlikely given the fact that I’d tagged along on the food delivery drive—I’m not sure how I would’ve handled the situation. It’s not that I’m helpless, but maybe Mayor Nishimura was right—together, we make a good couple, a team of our own.
Tipping my head to the side, I add, “Though, she suggests we finally decide on a name.”
“She has a point. Dasher Dickens doesn’t quite work.”
I laugh despite my nerves. Shivering, I say, “What do you think of Frosty?”
“That would work for a white husky, but he’s too much of a love muffin.”
I squawk a laugh because I didn’t expect him to say that.Love muffin?Who is this guy?
“What do you think of Buddy?” Fletch asks.
“That’s kind of plain, no?”
“Like Buddy the Elf from the movie,” he clarifies.
“Hmm. I feel like that would better fit a golden retriever or a labrador.”
“Guess it’s back to the drawing board.” He arranges kindling in the fireplace.
After a minute, the fire catches, casting warm light through the cabin. Outside, the world disappears behind a veil of white. We’re completely cut off—no traffic sounds, no neighbors, no distractions.
Just us.
