I hadn’t felt needed for more than my work or my expertise with sorhoxes in a long time. Wexla had been independent, capable. She’d never needed me the way Carla did right now. She’d never looked at me like I was the solution to all her problems.
The comparison felt like a betrayal.
I closed my eyes and tried to force sleep, but it remained elusive. The wind howled around the cabin, driving snow against the walls with enough energy to rattle the windows. It showed no signs of weakening. If anything, it had intensified during the night.
We’d be here another day. Maybe longer.
The prospect should’ve filled me with dread. Instead, a traitorous part of me felt relieved. More time with Carla meant more opportunities to understand the pull I felt toward her. More chances to figure out what it meant that I could already imagine her laugh, picture her smile, and anticipate her questions before she asked them.
Dawn came slowly, gray light creeping through the windows. I waited until I was certain Carla was deeply asleep before carefully extracting myself from the warmth of our bed. She murmured a protest, her hand searching for the heat I was taking away, but she didn’t wake.
I pulled the blankets up to her chin and dressed quickly, striding to the window.
The world outside had disappeared under a blanket of white. Snow drifted against the cabin walls, reaching halfway up the windows. Pine trees bowed under the weight of accumulated snow, their branches creating strange, sculptural shapes in the dim morning light.
No one was coming for us today. Maybe not tomorrow either.
Behind me, Carla stirred. I heard the rustle of blankets, a soft yawn, then her sharp intake of breath.
“Oh.”
I turned to find her sitting up, staring at the depression in the mattress where I’d been lying. Her hair stuck up at odd angles, and confusion clouded her brown eyes as she took in the disturbed blankets, the way the sheets on her side of the bed had been thoroughly warmed.
Color roared up into her cheeks.
“Did we… Did I…” She gestured vaguely at the space between where we’d been lying.
“You were cold.” I kept my voice neutral, boss-like. “Body heat is the most efficient way to prevent hypothermia.”
“Right.” She smoothed her hair, avoiding my eyes. “It was practical.”
“Exactly.”
We stared at each other for a moment, both of us pretending the charged atmosphere in the cabin was purely imagined. Her lips were pink again, no longer pale with cold. She looked warm, rumpled, and entirely too appealing for my state of mind.
“How’s the ankle?” I asked, desperate to shift to safer territory.
“Better.” She flexed her foot under the blankets. “Still sore, but the swelling’s gone down.”
“Good. Do you need the bathroom?”
She nodded, and I crossed to the bed, tugging away the blankets, then dragging my gaze from the pale skin of her legs, the way her shirt had ridden up to expose the scant undergarment she wore beneath her pants.
With a gasp, she grabbed her pants and tugged them on, securing them quickly, without looking my way. She dressed in her coat and zipped it up, tying the hood beneath her chin.
Nodding curtly, I lifted her into my arms. The contact sent awareness shooting through me, the same electric recognition I’d felt during the night. Her body fitted against mine like it belonged there.
The bathing cabin was even colder than ours, frost covering every surface. I set her down near the sink and turned on the water again, then the faucet, waiting for the heater to kick in and the water to warm before stepping outside to give her privacy.
Snow had piled up past my knees, and more fell steadily from the heavy gray sky. I trudged to the supply shed, gathering more food and checking to see how much water we had left. It was frozen, but it would thaw inside the cabin. I hoped. We had enough for several days if we were careful.
When Carla called that she was finished, I used the facilities myself while she waited, then drained the pipes again and carried her back to our cabin. It would be much too easy to get used to holding her like this in my arms.
“What’s the verdict?” she asked as I settled her on the bed and tucked a pillow beneath her leg to elevate her ankle.
“The storm’s not weakening. We’re here for at least another day.”
She absorbed this information with surprising calm. “Then we’d better make the best of it.”
