Ihatebeingwrong.Especially when it means that I am so absolutelyfucked.
By four P.M. the snow just dumped, forcing me to close down the café and send everyone home for their own safety. I scurried to my apartment upstairs only to find the first snowflakes falling through that hole in the roof, the icy winds howling through a sliver of broken glass in one of the window panes. I’m not one to give up, so I gathered as many coats and blankets as I could find and blasted the heating to insane levels. And that worked, for a bit.
Until the power cut off.
I’m a stubborn piece of work, though, so I grit my teeth and add more blankets. It’ll be a dark, cold day when I accept defeat, and a bit of snow won’t be enough to get me even close to that limit.
Shadows creep along the walls while the hours drag on, the temperature plummeting bad enough for my ceiling to glisten with beautiful flowers of ice. I watch them spread, the ice growing thicker by the minute, the feeling in my limbs fading.
I’m no expert, but I think the correct term for what situation I’m in isscrewed.
Between the broken window and the hole in the roof, would there be enough airflow to safely start a fire? I was never much of a girl scout, and starting fires isn’t something I’ve done before. But with every passing minute the air gets colder and the risk of hypothermia increases, and my desperation for warmth turns into a need for survival over a creature comfort. I try looking it up on the Internet—surely someone’s weighed in—but it refuses to load anything even with data.
Typical.
There’s only one option left, and I can’t deny the little voice in my head that says freezing to death would be less painful than making this call. But that would make him mad at me for sure.
It rings only once before he picks up. “Hey. Do you know a safe way to start a fire indoors?”
For a moment, all I hear is the wind howling through the gap in my window.
Cole sighs. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Well, you might not have noticed this sitting in that ivory tower of yours, but the power’s out across town,” I say. It’s so easy to imagine his face right now, that little amused smirk of his that he wears whenever I make fun of his wealth. “Also, there’s a blizzard, and I think it would be really neat if I don’t freeze to death in my sleep tonight.”
“A blizzard you say? I’ll be on the lookout,” Cole says, and the dry tone makes me laugh. “Carbon monoxide poisoning isn’t a better way for you to go, probably even worse honestly, and that’s guaranteed if you start that fire. Is it really that cold?”
“No, I just love sitting under thirteen blankets for fun. Remember that leak in the roof I was supposed to have fixed? Yeah, I didn’t. And it’s letting everything in. Snow and icicleseverywhere.” I let myself fall backward onto the couch, pullingmy collection of blankets tighter around me. It doesn’t help. “So it’s a definitive no on the fire?”
“What happened to the emergency pack I gave you?” Cole presses, and though he can’t see me I fight the urge to cover my eyes. For one glorious moment I had hope he wouldn’t ask—I sure as hell don’t want to tell him, though I know he won’t stop until I do. With it being this cold, it might be better to get it over with and save that energy.
“The space heater was a victim of the great kitchen flood last summer, so I had to throw it out. It wouldn’t work with the power out, anyway. The blankets, even with others piled on top and sweaters, are not doing much, and I mistook the dry meat stuff for midnight snacks and ate them.”
Cole sighs again, longer this time, like he’s regretting ever becoming my friend. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s thought that. “Stay put. I’ll fix this.”
He can’t see me, but I shake my head just the same. “I just called for advice, you don’t have to—”
“I will fix this,” he says firmly, but his voice softens as he adds, “It’s dangerously cold out there, Honey. Let me do this for you.”
I fiddle with the frayed edges of my sweater—hissweater. A strange feeling bubbles up in the lower part of my stomach as my brain tries to justify his words, his softness. I can’t. “Okay.”
The line goes dead.
A loud pounding on the door cuts through the deadly silence.
My heart hammers in my throat. I wish Cole was here so he could face whoever is on the other side of that door, as I’m sure it’s nothing good. Who in their right mind would go outside in a storm like this?
Cole said he would fix this, that he’d save me from freezing, but it’s been an hour and I haven’t heard a peep. Maybe the cell towers went down, too. Or he finally realized it would be easier to give up on me.
Slowly, I make my way down the narrow steps in the pitch-black darkness, not a single sliver of light streaming in from the stained-glass window above the door. Am I about to get robbed? Murdered? It would be my own damn fault for opening this door. Can’t even blame the other person for taking advantage of my stupidity.
It’s probably just the wind blowing things against my door, though. Only the village idiot would go outside in this visibility, and most days, that idiot is me.
The door swings open to reveal Cole leaning against the frame, his broad shoulders pushing the limit of the fabric of his coat. “Get your stuff. You’re coming with me.”
I can just make out his red truck roaring in the background, the headlights the only light in the square. He can’t have been at my door for more than a minute or two, yet he’s already covered in a layer of snow.
He’s here. How is he here right now? What the actual fuck is wrong with this man that he would drive down a mountain in a snowstorm to get to me?
