I look up at her and am struck by the compassion and fierce understanding in her gaze. There's no pity, no judgment—only acceptance. For the first time in months, a glimmer of something that might be hope stirs within me.
A distant sound breaks through the quiet morning—the distinctive rumble of approaching snowmobiles.
Eliza's head snaps up, her eyes wide. “That must be my brothers,” she says, relief and apprehension in her voice.
A knot tightens in my stomach as the sound of snowmobiles grows louder. After the intensity of our conversation, facing strangers—even Eliza's family—feels overwhelming. I’m aware of my appearance—disheveled, emotionally raw.
I've met Kane and Rhys briefly, and Eliza's mentioned her other brothers, but I don't know what to expect. There's relief and anxiety churning inside me. On one hand, their arrival means help, a connection to the outside world we've been cut off from. On the other, it means the end of this strange, intense bubble Eliza and I have been in.
“We should make ourselves a bit more presentable,” I say.
We scramble to our feet, straightening our clothes and trying to look less like we've been through an avalanche—both literally and emotionally. I head to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and splashing cold water on my face, hoping to erase the evidence of my breakdown. The coolness jolts me, helping me pull myself together.
Eliza lingers at the doorway, watching me for a moment before resting her hand on the knob. She turns to me, her eyes searching mine. “Are you ready?”
