I remembered the rest of this story. Brandon and the Winters had rescued him. It broke my heart more than ever, though a flame of anger burned inside me at his horrible biological parents. He’d been a resourceful kid to overcome those odds and make something of himself.
We’d brought a few new movies to add to the collection and started a Marvel movie marathon. Eighteen Marvel movies were available on DVD and Christopher owned all of them. I’d seen all twenty-three in the future and knew how the saga ended, but was excited to watch them again. They’d be better with his company. My favorite character was Captain America and his was the Hulk.
Christopher was as gigantic a movie nerd as I was, and we’d brought ice cream and popcorn for movie nights. We wouldn’t be able to finish that many movies in our time up here, storm or no storm, but planned to watch them in chronological order. We could continue on subsequent trips, giving us something to look forward to. I’d never thought I’d be with someone who was so fun to hang out and do nothing with. He made me laugh with his ridiculous comments; we liked each other’s company.
Outside, the snow piled up, and the wind howled, but inside was safe and warm.
The first night, after Christopher and I had exhausted ourselves and fallen into blissful slumber, something startled me awake. It was well after two in the morning. I tried to remain motionless, as I wasn’t sure what had woken me. As I lay in the dark cabin, the howling of the wind carried the same sound as the car I’d driven in the accident, the same jarring noise that used to haunt my nights. I hadn’t had the dream in months. Sleeping with Christopher had cured most of my sleepless nights. If I had a difficult time sleeping, all I had to do was reach out and feel him and know I wasn’t alone.
I listened to the wind whistle through the walls and thin gaps around the windows where it sucked out warm air, stealing it for the storm. The wind tore around the building and rattled the chimney pipe over the wood stove in the living room. It was quite the snowstorm.
Goosebumps rose on my arms as I turned over my edge of the cover and exposed my skin to the cold air. The cabin was freezing, our stove’s heat stolen by the wind. Once I was awake, unless I got up and went to the bathroom and got a drink, I wouldn’t fall asleep again. My bare feet touched the wooden floor and shocked me further awake. I was so cold that I couldn’t believe we’d slept on, blissfully unaware and warm in the island of our bed. Christopher didn’t move as I slid out into the frigid darkness. I tucked the covers back in to preserve his heat.
When I returned, I was an icicle. Christopher’s heat radiated through the blankets—he generated enough for both of us. I slipped back into bed, trying not to touch him so I wouldn’t disturb his slumber. My side of the bed was cold and the sheets frigid on my bare skin. I hadn’t thought he was awake, but he turned and wrapped his red-hot body around my icy one. He put his hand on my chest and tucked me into him. He kissed the side of neck and let me steal his body heat without complaint. It should have been a small thing, but it wasn’t.
“You’re freezing,” he said. “Stay with me. I’ll keep you warm.”
He was more awake than I expected. He didn’t seem bothered about my shivering body.
“I love you,” I whispered. Though quiet, my words were audible. It was the first time I’d said those words. He should know, but until now, they hadn’t been spoken aloud.
He tightened his grip and kissed my shoulder. “You’re pretty okay too. Go back to sleep.”
. . .
The storm’s fury lasted three days before it blew itself out. In flat places, there were two feet of fluffy snow and the trees looked like misshapen marshmallow people. On the morning of New Year’s Eve, the road had been cleared, and we used snow shovels to dig a track on the driveway. Christopher had dug out the SUV a couple of days earlier. As we finished and trudged back up the hill with aching muscles, he pushed me into a snowbank. Snow slid up the cuffs of my jacket and I retaliated, forcing him into the snow up to his knees. He made me feel young and alive.
Ember had enjoyed the cabin and had even caught a small mouse on the second day. Any other rodents had made themselves scarce. We packed up and left by lunchtime, giving ourselves extra time in case the roads were icy. If we arrived at Dad’s early, he wouldn’t mind. I checked my messages and texted him once we had cell service. I didn’t want to be blind-sided like the last time we’d stopped in after the cabin.
It was approaching five when we pulled up to the curb. No cop cars in sight. The yellow house I’d grown up in looked the same as it always had. Cheerful lights shone through the living room and kitchen windows. Red and green Christmas lights lit the eaves and around the windows. I wondered what my dad had made for dinner. Hopefully not turkey. Since Thanksgiving, the scent carried negative associations. I’d been nervous about coming, but was glad to make up with Dad. I decided to try harder to talk to Meghan, too. Dr. Maeve had encouraged me to try again.
Dad wasn’t wrong when he said holding a grudge was bad for my emotional well-being. I missed my sister. I wasn’t one for New Year’s resolutions, but fixing things with Meghan seemed like a reasonable one.
“I agree,” said Christopher.
He seldom did that. Most of the time he waited for me to tell him what I was thinking, but I’d long since stopped building brick walls in my mind when he was near.
My palms grew sweaty standing on the porch. I shouldn’t be nervous; it was just Dad. I rang the doorbell, and it chimed. I hadn’t rung the bell since I was a kid and had gotten my own key. After the way I’d left last time, strapped to a stretcher, I hadn’t been sure I would be back.
Dad answered the door with a huge grin on his normally calm face. He waited until we were inside and our boots and coats were off before hugging me. He had tears in his grayish-blue eyes when he said, “We missed you at Christmas. It wasn’t the same without you. Your sister feels awful. Knowing your stalker was real. Please forgive us. Forgive her.”
I nodded.“I’m trying.”
He glanced at his phone and smiled.
“Happy New Year’s, Christopher,” he said.
They shook hands again, and we followed Dad into the warm kitchen. I freed Ember, and she went to inspect the Christmas tree, then the couch. The kitchen was warm and smelled of pot roast. Dad had set the small kitchen table, rather than the dining room, with red and green cloth napkins and Christmas crackers. We settled in for a cozy family dinner wearing cheap paper crowns and reading the lame jokes they came with. We stayed until eight, not wanting to leave too soon, but also eager to get home and our own festivities.
“Are you sure you don’t mind us leaving?”I said as we stood by the door.
“I’m happy you came for dinner,” Dad said. “My plan is to be in bed by ten. I’m not much for New Year’s Eve celebrations. You two go, enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Chapter 21
After dinner with Dad, Christopher and I headed home for New Year’s Eve. It surprised me how much I was looking forward to being at the house and having a hot bath. We’d had quick showers to conserve water and power at the cabin while the main bathroom at Christopher’s was luxurious, with a two-person steam shower and a deep tub with a reclining back, perfect for reading.
Christopher’s house felt like home. We hadn’t planned on living together yet, but that’s what we’d done the last two months while I’d stayed with him.
