“Okay.” He takes a second to look at me, as if he needs a moment to assure himself that he’s found me—he found me—and that I’m actually okay. He nods. “Okay, good. We need to get out of here.”
He pulls my arm and turns back the way he came, taking me with him.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I yell-ask, following him andveryaware of his hand wrapped around my arm.
“I passed a ranger station a little ways back; we can hole up there until the storm passes.”
Jasper leads me through the storm, and as we walk into the oncoming wind I realize I don’t feel cold anymore.
We bust through the lock on the door of the old ranger station and slam it shut behind us.
“Ugh, when was the last time someone cleaned up in here?” I ask, glancing around.
The place is more than decrepit. The drawn blinds hang at awkward broken angles, there’s a ratty couch with stuffing pouring out from one of the armrests, a desk to my right might as well be made entirely out of dust. Filing cabinets hang open; the floor is littered with papers, ceiling panels, and leaves. The cold seeps back into my bones.
Jasper flicks the light switch, but nothing happens. “I think it’s been awhile since anyone’s been in here at all.”
“Great.”
I wander farther into the room. There’s a distinct musty smell, but luckily it’s muted by the cold. I don’t want to know how pungent it would be on a sweltering summer’s day. Thankful to be inside and out of the storm, I hug myself to keep warm, but don’t complain.
“We should be fine in here at least until the storm passes,” Jasper says. I turn and find him watching me. “You’re still cold.”
Damn, he noticed the slight shiver in my shoulders.
“Ya-huh.”
Jasper moves about the room as if he’s searching for something. He pulls out drawers and opens cabinets, but whatever he’s looking for, he’s coming up short. Then, shoving a stack of magazines—probably dated 1990-something—he uncovers a battered army trunk.
“It’s locked.” I point at the rather obvious combination lock.
Jasper takes it in for a second, then tears it right off with his bare hand. He lifts the metal lid and begins to pull out what look like survival supplies—a couple of blankets, some cans of food, a can opener, a gas-powered lantern, and some matches.
“Here.” He tosses me a blanket, a little too hard, then goes about lighting the lantern.
With the blanket wrapped around my shoulders I watch as my personal Bear Grylls manages to strike a match that’s past its prime. A dull orange glow emanates from the lantern once it’s lit, casting long shadows across the floor, but making our shelter just a little more cozy.
“Thanks,” I say. “For finding me.”
Jasper sighs and lets his head drop.
“You need to be more careful,” he growls lowly.
“I—”
“You’re lucky I found you before you froze to death. What were you thinking?”
Not this again.I’m sick to death of Jasper policing my actions, as stupid or reckless as they may be, he’s not my guardian.
“Look,” I spit back, “I appreciate that you came and found me, but just because you decided to save my ass doesn’t mean you get to speak to me that way.”
“You’re ridiculous. You keep putting yourself in danger when all I’m trying to do is keep you safe.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to be safe!” Anger is heating my veins and I don’t need the blanket anymore, so I throw it off my shoulders. “If being safe means ignoring this”—I gesture between us frantically—“then I don’t want it!”
“It’s more complicated than that. You’re not the only one involved here.”
“You don’t get to choose when it’s convenient to be involved, Jasper. This isn’t a voluntary position.”
