“I got you.” Wes grabbed him. It was like hugging a statue. The coat was hard, unyielding ice. But beneath it, he felt the tremors racking Jake’s body. “I got you, baby. I got you.”
Jake went limp, his endurance failing the moment he realized he didn’t have to take another step. “Car—” he stammered, leaning heavily into Wes. “Wrecked the car... back there. Mile... maybe two.”
“Fuck the car.” Wes held him tighter, panic spiking at how cold Jake felt even through his own jacket. “You walked two miles in this?”
“Promised,” Jake slurred, his eyes unfocused, lashes clumped with ice. “Said... today. Meant... today.”
“I know. I know you did.”
Jake’s legs gave out completely. He buckled. Wes caught him, grunting with the effort, hauling him up. He wrapped an arm around Jake’s waist and half-carried, half-dragged him toward the idling truck.
He shoved Jake into the passenger seat. Jake sat there, stiff as a board, staring straight ahead, shivering so hard the seatbelt buckle rattled against the doorframe.
Wes ran around to the driver’s side, jumped in, and cranked the heater until the fan roared. He reached across the console, grabbing Jake’s icy hands and rubbing them vigorously between his gloved palms.
“You idiot,” Wes muttered, tears burning his eyes as the fear finally caught up to him. “You stubborn, beautiful idiot. You could have died.”
Jake looked at him, slow and dazed, a faint spark of life returning to his eyes. “Did I... did I make it?”
Wes put the truck in gear, carefully turning it around on the slick road to head back toward home.
“Yeah, Jake,” he choked out. “You made it.”
Holiday Pines Farm
6:40 PM
The entry into the farmhouse was a flurry of chaos.
The wind caught the heavy oak door, nearly ripping it from Wes’s hand, but he kicked it shut, dead-bolting the storm out.
“He ran off the road,” Wes said, panting.
Henry looked up from his chair. He took in the sight of them—Wes frantic and flushed, supporting Jake’s weight. Jake was as pale as death, shivering so hard his whole body vibrated.
“You walked from the wreck?” Henry asked.
Jake couldn’t speak. He just nodded, his jaw locked.
“Stubborn fool,” Henry muttered. There was no malice in it. It sounded like a commendation. “You fit right in with this family.”
“Pop, he’s hypothermic,” Wes said, panicked. “He’s stopped shaking. That’s bad, right?”
“It ain’t good. Don’t bring him near the fire yet,” Henry commanded, pointing a gnarled finger. “It’ll hurt too much to thaw that fast. Chilblains.”
Henry looked Wes in the eye. “Take him upstairs. Heat rises. Put him in your bed—not the guest room—and pile every quilt we own on top of him. Share body heat.”
Wes stared at his father. It was an order. It waspermission.
“Go on,” Henry barked. “Take the whiskey bottle too.”
“Thank you,” Wes whispered.
He hoisted Jake up, guiding him toward the narrow staircase.
Upstairs
6:50 PM
