Chapter Five
MATT
The crunch of our boots through fresh snow breaks the pre-dawn silence as Eliza and I make our way to the lodge. The air is sharp with cold, our breath visible in clouds before us. The storm has passed, leaving behind a pristine blanket of white that makes everything look deceptively peaceful.
We'd agreed to start early, hoping to get the generator running before attempting any other repairs.
As we reach the main building, I head straight for the electrical panel mounted on the east wall, its switches and meters a silent challenge.
I'm grateful for Finn's foresight in designing a system where each cabin and the main lodge can be isolated.
It's a smart setup, one that might save us from a lot of trouble.
“Okay,” I say to myself, my fingers tracing each labeled switch. “Solar's off, main lodge disconnected. Only cabin five is attached to the generator line.”
“Is everything alright?” Eliza's voice comes from behind, concern clear in her tone.
I turn to face her, momentarily struck by how the soft light catches in her hair, giving it a golden glow.
Forcing myself to focus, I offer what I hope is a reassuring look.
“Yeah, double-checking to make sure we don't overload anything when we start the generator. Your brother did a great job setting this up, which makes it much easier and safer for us.”
The creases in Eliza's forehead soften. “That's comforting to hear. Finn's always been thorough about safety.” Pride colors her voice when she talks about her brother, and a twinge of something—envy, maybe?—stirs in me at the obvious closeness of their relationship.
With the electrical system secured, we head toward the generator shed. The squat, snow-covered structure holds the key to our comfort. The sky is beginning to lighten, painting the world in muted hues of pink and gold. It looks like a sunny day ahead, though the challenges we face remain.
“Are you confident about this?” Eliza asks, her breath visible in the frigid air. “After what you said yesterday about potential dangers...”
It's reassuring that she's thinking critically, not following my lead without question. “I've isolated the systems as best I can. We'll be powering the one cabin for now, which should be safe.”
Determination flashes in Eliza's eyes. “Alright then. Let's do this.”
When we reach the shed, the door's frozen shut. I throw my shoulder against it, grunting with effort. It gives way with a crack, and I stumble forward. Eliza's hand catches my arm, steadying me. Her touch lingers, warm even through my jacket, and our eyes meet a bit too long.
I clear my throat, breaking the spell. “Thanks.” The word comes out rougher than I intended, and I turn to hide the flush I can feel creeping up my neck.
Inside, the generator stands silent, a hulking mass of metal and wires. As I explain the basics, I notice how her eyes spark with curiosity. I force myself to focus, pushing away unbidden thoughts of how beautiful she looks right now.
“Can you hand me that wrench?” I ask, pointing to the nearby toolbox.
As Eliza passes it to me, our fingers brush, and a spark of awareness flares between us.
I wonder if she felt it too. I clear my throat, reminding myself that she's off-limits—not only because I'm here to heal, but because she's Finn's little sister.
Finn would kill me if he knew where my thoughts were headed.
I'm supposed to be getting my head straight, not complicating things with a relationship.
We work in silence, moving around each other in the tight space. I'm hyper-aware of her proximity, the scent of her shampoo mingling with the oil and metal. I have to stop myself from staring at the curve of her neck as she leans in to examine something I'm pointing out.
After what feels like hours but is probably minutes, the generator roars to life.
Eliza's face lights up with a triumphant smile, and before I can react, she's thrown her arms around me.
Unlike our tentative hug the night before, this one is pure celebration.
I find myself returning her embrace more naturally this time, though the feel of her in my arms still sends my pulse racing.
The heat of her body against mine—it's both comforting and unsettling, a reminder of everything I've been trying to keep at arm's length.
She pulls back, still beaming. “We did it!”
“Yes, we did.”
Her eyes light up, and for a moment, I forget about the storm, the damaged lodge—everything but the woman in front of me.
The urge to lean in and close the distance between us is almost overwhelming.
But I catch myself. Kissing her wouldn’t complicate things; it could jeopardize everything—my friendship with Finn, my fragile sense of stability, and whatever this is between us.
We’re stuck here, and if things go wrong, there’s no getting away from it.
The spell breaks as a gust of wind rattles the shed. Reality crashes back, and I step away. “We should head back and check to see if everything's working in the cabin.”
Eliza's expression flickers with something I can't quite read.
Disappointment? Relief? Before I can dwell on it, she's moving toward the door.
“Right, but first I should search Finn's office for spare batteries for the satellite phone.
In case the generator doesn't work, we need to be able to call out.”
As we approach the lodge again, I notice Eliza hesitate, her eyes scanning the damaged building.
We step inside, and while searching Finn's office for the batteries, I catch Eliza's gaze drifting toward the stairs leading to the upper floor.
Following her line of sight, I remember her talking about her studies.
“Is that where your books are?” I ask. “Your study materials?”
Eliza's eyes reflect longing and resignation. “Yeah, but ... it's not safe to go up there. We should leave them.”
I look at the stairs, then back at Eliza. The importance of those materials to her is clear, and before I can talk myself out of it, I'm heading for the steps.
“Matt, what are you doing?” Eliza asks, alarm clear in her voice.
“Which room is yours again?” I’m already stepping onto the first stair.
I glance back at her in time to catch the alarm in her expression as she realizes what I'm planning. “Second on the left, but Matt, no! It's too dangerous!”
I turn back. “I'll be careful. Promise.”
Ignoring her protest, I climb. The stairs creak ominously under my feet, and I can feel Eliza's nervous energy even from downstairs, her concern hanging in the tense silence.
I focus on each step as I make my way up, alert to every groan and shift of the damaged structure. The upper hallway is a mess of fallen beams and shattered drywall. I pick my way to Eliza's room, pushing aside memories of navigating similarly treacherous terrain on the rig after the explosion.
The door's jammed, but a solid kick forces it open. Inside, it's chaos. But there, on a desk by the window, I spot a stack of books and papers. Bingo.
I grab them, along with a framed photo of Eliza with her brothers, whom I recognize from earlier. As I turn to leave, a beam above me shifts with a sharp creak. Panic rising, I race for the stairs, taking them two at a time.
I burst into the main room as a section of the upper floor collapses behind me. Eliza cries out, rushing toward me. Her hands are on my face, my chest, checking for injuries.
“Are you okay? That was so stupid! You could have been killed!”
I catch her hand in mine, my pulse racing from something beyond adrenaline. “I'm fine. Look.”
I hold out the books and photo. Eliza's eyes well up with tears as she takes them.
“You ... you risked your life for this?”
The disbelief in her voice makes me uncomfortable. I shrug, feeling foolish. “They seemed important to you.”
Eliza looks at me for a long moment with something unreadable in her eyes. Then she's on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her breath warm against my skin.
I stand there, stunned, as she pulls away. The spot where her lips brushed my cheek burns; I have to resist the urge to reach for it.
As we leave the lodge, with books and the photo secured under Eliza's arm, I notice a shift between us. The way she walks closer, her arm brushing mine now and then—it’s subtle, but I can’t ignore it.
Part of me likes it; her being here eases the tension in my chest. But another part of me feels uneasy.
Letting her in like this feels risky, like stepping onto unstable ground.
The lines between us are blurring, and that uncertainty stirs something I’m not sure I’m ready to face.
Back at the cabin, we step inside, and the cozy embrace of the fire greets us immediately.
Overhead, the lights glow steadily, chasing away the shadows that once lingered in every corner.
The gentle hum of the refrigerator is a constant in the background, a reminder that, despite everything, we’ve regained some sense of normalcy.
Eliza stops in the doorway and looks around. “It feels so different with the lights on,” she says softly, her voice tinged with relief. She turns to me, her smile lighting up the space even more. “It’s like the cabin’s alive again.”
I nod, taking in the small victories that make this place feel less like a refuge and more like home. “It’s a good start,” I say, letting the moment linger.
We spend the evening going over what we’ve salvaged.
Eliza’s fingers trace the cover of her study guide, and I find my gaze drawn to her hands.
Her fingers are slender but strong, and I remember how they felt when I held them—steady, comforting.
I clear my throat, forcing my attention back to our conversation.
“So, a teacher, huh?” I say, breaking the comfortable silence that’s settled between us.
“It’s been my dream since I was a kid. Want to help me study?”
“Sure,” I reply, surprised by my eagerness. “What are we looking at?”
Eliza scoots mere inches from me before she opens the book. “Child development theories. It's fascinating stuff.”
As she explains, I'm captivated, not by the subject but by the passion in her voice. Her eyes light up as she talks about different learning styles and educational philosophies. I ask questions, genuinely interested, and she beams at me.
“You know, you'd make a decent teacher yourself,” she says, nudging my shoulder playfully.
I chuckle, the brief contact lingering in my mind. “I don't know about that. But I'm enjoying learning from you.”
We continue studying, our heads bent close over the book. I can smell the faint scent of her shampoo and feel the brush of her arm against mine as she turns pages. The tension between us builds, electric and unspoken.
As she leans in, pointing to a passage in her book, her concentration is so intense that it stirs something inside me.
Without thinking, I reach out, covering her hand with mine.
She glances up, surprised, and for a moment, our eyes meet.
So many things rise to the surface, but the words stick in my throat, held back by a fear I'm not ready to face.
Instead, I let my hand linger there for a moment longer before pulling away, the feel of her skin still warm against mine.
“You're going to make an amazing teacher, Eliza,” I say, my voice softer than I intended. “Really.”
“Thanks,” she replies, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I appreciate your help with this.”
“We should get some rest,” I manage, trying to break the tension between us. “Big day tomorrow.” The words feel forced, like I'm trying to put space between us before I let this go any further.
Eliza stays seated for a moment, as if lost in thought. When she stands, I rise with her. She pauses, turning to face me, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder.
“Thank you,” she says. “Not only for the books, but for ... for being here.”
I open my mouth to say something, but she's already gone, the bedroom door closing softly behind her. I'm left alone with the crackling fire and the awareness that, for the first time in months, my thoughts aren’t consumed by the ghosts of my past.
A faint rumble in the distance pulls me from my slumber. I wake up on the couch, the blanket still draped over me. I've only slept a short time when the sound reaches me. My eyes snap open, and a prickling tension spreads through me—an instinctive sense that something's wrong.
I rush to the window, peering out into the darkness. The moonlight reflects off the snow, and that's when I see it—a slight movement high on the slope. Years of working in treacherous conditions have honed my instincts, and right now, they're screaming danger.
“No, no, no,” I say.
“Eliza!” I shout, already moving toward the bedroom. Fear grips me, not for myself, but for her. “We have to get out of here now!”