I didn’t get to finish the sentence.
The wall exploded.
That was the only way to describe it. One second I was staring at the window, trying to make sense of the sounds coming from above, and the next, the entire front corner of the cabin was gone—replaced by a massive pine tree that had crashed through the wall and window like a battering ram, bringing half the roof down with it.
Glass shattered. Wood splintered. Snow and wind and freezing air rushed into the cabin.
“What the fuck?!”
The tree filled half the living room, its branches still shuddering from the impact, needles and bark and debris scattered everywhere. I could see the storm through the gaping hole where the wall used to be—could feel it, the wind and snow slicing into the cabin like knives.
Lightning flashed again, illuminating the destruction in stark white light, and thunder rolled across the mountains so loud it rattled what was left of the windows.
From somewhere in the back of the cabin, I heard Purrsephone wailing. A terrible, frightened sound that cut through the chaos and lodged itself directly in my chest.
“Purrsephone!” I coughed on dust and debris, trying to orient myself. The fire had died when part of the chimney collapsed, and now my only light was the intermittent flash of lightning and the faint glow of snow reflecting ambient light from somewhere. “Purrsephone, where are you?”
I stumbled toward the bedroom, my hands shaking, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. This couldn’t be happening. I’d kissed Farley Davenport less than three hours ago, been gently rejected in the most heartbreaking way possible, and now a tree had crashed through my cabin.
The universe had a sick sense of humor.
I found Purrsephone huddled under the bed, her eyes reflecting what little light there was like twin moons—one blue, one green, both absolutely terrified. She was pressed against the back wall, trembling.
“Hey,” I said, crouching down, trying to keep my voice steady. “Hey, sweet girl, it’s okay. I’ve got you. We’re going to be okay.”
I had no idea if we were going to be okay. Half of my cabin was destroyed. I had no power, no heat, and a winter storm was howling through my living room. My phone was still on the end table—assuming the end table still existed—and even if I could reach it, the reception up here was terrible on a good day.
Farley’s cabin.
The thought crystallized in my mind with sudden clarity. Farley’s cabin was maybe a hundred yards away. The idea of showing up at his door, desperate and disheveled, after he’d just asked to be friends—it should have been humiliating. But right now, pride seemed like a luxury I couldn’t afford.
“Stay here,” I told Purrsephone, and crawled back toward the living room to find my phone.
The tree had taken out the entire corner of the cabin, including the big picture window I’d been so charmed by when I arrived. The fire was completely out, and the temperature was dropping fast—I could already see my breath fogging in the air.
I picked my way through the debris, wincing as something sharp caught my palm. My phone was where I’d left it, miraculously intact. I grabbed it with shaking hands and pressed the home button.
No signal. “Fuck!”
I was trying to figure out how to get Purrsephone out from under the bed when I heard it.
A pounding. Not from the storm—from outside. From the direction of the gaping hole that was once my wall.
“Samuel!”
I spun around so fast I nearly fell.
There, silhouetted against the swirling white chaos of the storm, climbing over the debris like a man possessed, was Farley. He had a flashlight in one hand and an expression of absolute terror on his face.
“Samuel!” He was already stumbling through the wreckage, not waiting for an answer. “I heard the crash—I saw—are you hurt? Samuel!“
“I’m here,” I managed, my voice coming out weird and wobbly. “I’m—I’m okay, I think, I—”
And then Farley was in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, his eyes scanning my face with an intensity that made my breath catch. This wasn’t the careful, guarded Farley who’d asked to be friends three hours ago. This was someone raw, terrified, all his walls shattered as thoroughly as my cabin walls.
“You’re bleeding,” he said. “Your hand—”
I looked down. There was blood on my palm from whatever I’d cut it on, mixing with the snow that was already accumulating on my sweater.
