My stomach drops to my toes.
Of course.
Of all the people in Silver Ridge, the one cabin still running on full power belongs to the only man alive who manages to be both infuriating and magnetic in equal measure.
The man who didn’t want to be saved.
The man who looked at me in the clinic like he hated that I’d dragged him out of the snow.
Jax.
Jax Something-I-Don’t-Know-But-I-Know-It’s-Not-Really-“Taylor.”
I stare at the message like I can will another option into existence.
Another buzz.
Rachel:Yeah, he’s got a generator. Saw the porch light earlier. Lucky bastard.
Kelsey:Heard he installed it himself. Quiet thing. State-of-the-art.
Tom:If you can get up there safely, that’s your best bet.
I close my eyes, just for a heartbeat. I can already imagine the look on his face.
That guarded freeze. That grim line of his mouth. The grief sharp enough to cut through bone.
I don’t want to knock on his door. I don’t want to need anything from him.
Not after the way he looked at me. Not after the way he seemed almost angry I’d kept him breathing.
But Violet’s insulin…
I turn. She’s watching me, trying so hard not to show how cold she is. Her fingers are already pink, her shoulders trembling despite her hoodie and jacket.
Decision made.
“Sweetheart,” I say gently, grabbing the emergency bag I never wanted to need again. “We’re going out.”
Her eyes widen. “Where?”
“Up North Ridge.”
Understanding hits her immediately—a flicker of dread followed by the tiniest glimmer of hope.
“The avalanche guy?” she asks.
I curse under my breath. “Yes.”
“You don’t like him.”
“No,” I admit. “But his cabin has heat.”
“And we don’t.”
“Correct.”
“And my insulin—”
