She gasps, eyes opening again. Her chest rises and falls with each laboured breath she pulls in. My own chest tightens. That can’t be good, but what the fuck do I know?
I should have taken her to the hospital. I should have tried harder. But the storm had picked up. I’m not reckless, not like how I used to be. Being reckless destroyed me, and I won’t let that happen to her.
Her eyes finally find mine, not glassy or unseeing. They look clearer than they had before, and her breathing finally eases into a less laboured pattern. “What—the crash?” she asks hoarsely.
I reach for a bottle of water on the nightstand, uncap it, and hold it up to her lips. She eyes me warily before drinking slowly.
After a moment, she pulls away and turns her head, eyes closing. Her hand—the one undamaged—grips the sheets. “How long have I been out?” she asks carefully, her voice steadier.
I clear my throat. “A couple of hours,” I reply. “I couldn’t take you to the hospital, and I tried getting word out to your brother.”
She shudders before finally looking at me. “Thanks for finding me. For helping.” Tears build in the corners of her eyes, and without meaning to, I gently wipe them away before they can fall.
My heart clenches tightly in my chest; I pull my hand back before I can do anything else. Sophia, even with her bruised eyes, swollen nose, and messy hair, is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’d care for her—as best I can with the conditions—then I’d have to get her to the hospital, but could I say goodbye now that I finally had her here with me?
Since I was released, I never hadthe courage to thank her for all she did, for how much time she spent at my bedside, promising I’d get better. For her, I did. And I will make sure I help her now, repay her kindness, and find a way to keep her.
But would she want a beast like me?
Despite the smellof smoke that clings to her hair from the crash, she still smells sweet, like vanilla and strawberry, and it takes me back to the long nights she spent by my bedside. The smell of her hair and body had been the only thing to wash away the scent of burnt skin, and even now, I breathe it in like I’m drowning, and she’s the fresh air I need to survive.
The last hour was spent getting a good idea of her injuries. Tensions are still high, though I don’t expect anything else. Especially because she’s in a whole lot of pain—and no one knows where she is. There’s no cell reception, it went out yesterday, and our only means of communication is fucked.
I gather a pair of sweatpants and a lightweight t-shirt for her to wear, as well as another sweater if she’s cold, and lay them out on the floor outside the bathroom door. I listen for a long momentas the water starts.
I check the fire in the hearth, then go to work preparing Sophia a meal. The kitchen is the only space that hasn’t been renovated yet, but it functions well enough. The plan had been to start working on remodelling during the storm, but with Sophia trapped here on the mountain with me, I won’t be able to commit to the project.
While she showers, I prepare a quick meal of canned tomato soup and grilled cheese—one of the few things I’m decently good at making. Cap would be proud to know I can at least use a stove now.
I stop stirring the soup, still gripping the spoon. My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. But almost as soon as it hits me, the pressure releases with the opening of the bathroom door. I hear her footsteps, soft and hesitant in the hallway. As she rounds the corner, I drop the spoon on the counter.
“Smells great in here,” Sophia says, walking up beside me. I suck in a breath and release it slowly. “Thank you for the clothes.”
I nod stiffly, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. She’s still bruised, but there’s some colour back in her cheeks and her eyes are brighter. I almost consider picking her up and carrying her back to my bed. She’s still wobbly on her feet, gripping the edge of the counter tightly.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, moving gently to wrap an arm around her as she wavers. A soft gasp leaves her lips, and her wide eyes meet mine.
“F-fine,” she stutters, though she rests her hand atop mine. “Pain is a little more bearable, but I’m feeling it now. Not sure if I’ve got a concussion or not.”
“I have aspirin?—”
She shakes her head, wincing. “No, not until at least twenty-four hours have passed.”
“Right.” I know that. It was drilled into us early into our training, but I hate the idea of her being in pain. “Let’s get you seated, then. We don’t need you passing out.”
She gives me a weak smile, and I have to stop myself from picking her up and carrying her to the living room. Instead, I keep my arm around her midsection and guide her to the small table in the corner of the kitchen; it sits beneath a large bay window overlooking the forest, though because of the storm, it’s covered.
“The cabin is beautiful,” Sophia says. She takes her seat, and I return to the soup, dishing it up as she talks. “I remember when Cooper said you bought it. Called you crazy for wanting to fix it up.”
I grunt. “Yeah, well, he’s probably still pissed he missed out on such a great piece of land.”
Sophia’s soft laughter fills the kitchen as I bring her one of the bowls of soup, as well as a finished grilled cheese. Her eyes shine as she watches me, and the smile she offers is enough to brighten the room. “I can’t imagine him living up here on the mountain. It’s too far from the bar.”
She takes the soup and grilled cheese, eyes never leaving mine. I feel the weight of her stare on me as I return to the kitchen to get her a glass of orange juice, though I suddenly wished I had more to offer her.
“Cooper would never survive up here,” I finally manage, turning back to her.
“No, he really wouldn’t,” she murmurs, taking a small bite of the tomato-soup covered grilled cheese. “This tastes great, thank you, Noah.”
