Chapter 24 Gabe
Gabe
I think my father has lost his mind.
“You what?” I ask sharply.
“I don’t think you should go out in the snow,” he repeats. “And I’m certainly not taking Taryn out there.”
I stare at him for a moment, trying to make sense of the words, then turn and look out the window.
Yes, the snow is bad. The storm that started yesterday has increased its pace, and there’s at least 3 feet of the stuff sitting on the ground now.
It’s piled up underneath the porch of the house and has reached halfway up the windows on the ground floor.
I can’t even see the paddock in front of the barn anymore, and the barn itself is hazy through the still-falling snow.
We didn’t expect the storm to hit as quickly as it did and sure as hell didn’t think it would drop this much snow this quickly, and that’s a problem.
We didn’t prep the barn or the house. Didn’t get all the animals inside.
And that stash of wood I was so proud of two days ago?
Yeah, it now seems woefully light compared to what we actually need.
The electricity is still on so we have lights and heat, but we know from experience that it might cut out at any moment, and the two backup generators we have might not keep the whole house and barn warm.
In that case, we’ll need the fireplaces to pick up the slack.
My father and I were on our way out to chop as much wood as we could while it was still safe to do so when he decided that I shouldn’t go with him after all.
“And I don’t think you know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I say sharply. “We need another cord. Better if we can get two. You’re never going to be able to get that on your own.”
“Sure I will,” he says, sounding stubborn and idiotic as usual. “It might take me longer, but if it means you’re in the house where it’s warm and dry, it’s worth it.”
My mouth drops open, and I shake my head sharply, trying to get my brain to kick in. What the fuck is he talking about? If I’m in the house where it’s warm and dry? When there’s wood to be cut?
What?
“Who are you, and what have you done with my father?”
He scowls like that was the wrong thing to say and makes to walk past me. “I am your father. And I’m taking care of you. You were out in the snow last night. Now it’s my turn.”
“Your turn to what?” another voice asks.
My dad and I both turn, surprised to see Taryn standing at the other end of the kitchen looking sleep-mussed and flushed, and I nearly drop to my knees in sheer relief that she’s on her feet and looking relatively normal.
All her fingers and toes seem to be whole—I know because I count them—and she doesn’t look like she has any lasting damage from last night.
I don’t know how that can be true after what she went through, but I’m not going to ask too many questions.
I’m too happy to see her healthy. I still can’t believe how close we came to losing her.
If I hadn’t followed her immediately and happened to see the tracks where she left the road, she could have frozen to death.
If she’d slid off the road anywhere else, she would have met a drop hundreds of feet high.
If a bear had decided it was too interested in her. ..
God, she could have died.
My Taryn could have died last night.
I flex my hands, desperate to run to her and take her in my arms. Make sure she’s still whole and healthy and warm. Still alive. But I hold myself in place, unsure of how she’d take such a show of emotion.
Unwilling to admit to myself how scared I was, because admitting that is akin to opening myself up to more damage.
“You’re up early,” I say instead, looking for something neutral. “How are you feeling? How are your fingers and toes? Your nose? Any tingling anywhere?”
She gives me a narrow-eyed glance. “If I’d known I was going to get the Spanish Inquisition without any coffee, I would have stayed upstairs. I feel fine. What are you two arguing about?”
“We’re snowed in and need more firewood,” my father says, skipping the details of why and just expecting her to take his word for it.
Typical.
“So we’re going outside to cut firewood?” she asks, her eyes snapping to the window and clouding. “Let me get dressed. Do you guys have a jacket I can borrow? I don’t think I brought anything heavy enough.”
“No,” my father says sharply. “You’re not going. Neither is Gabe.”
I’m not surprised when she walks up to him and pokes him in the chest. “So what, you’re going to go out there and do everything on your own, despite how cold it is? Despite the fact that it makes no sense to do it that way? Not happening. Sorry.”
He opens his mouth, definitely intending to argue with her, but she pokes him again.
“I said no. I need a coat. Are you going to get me one or what?”
I am surprised when he closes his mouth, gives her a long look, and then walks toward the closet to look through our stash of jackets. When Taryn turns to me, though, a smile hidden in the corner of her mouth, I laugh.
She’s been here three days.
Of course she’s already figured out how to wrap my father around her little finger.
“Go get dressed,” I say, grinning. “Jeans and a few layers of shirts. Boots. I’ll get the four-wheelers ready.”
* * *
We start in the barn, spreading additional bedding in each stall and checking the weatherproofing on the windows and around the doors.
We don’t have many animals up here—a couple horses for when we need to travel to an area where the ATVs won’t work, and a couple cows for milk.
Chickens and ducks for eggs and bug control.
Cats that are here for pest control, in theory, but spend most of their time lazing about the place and enjoying their free ride.
“They have to come inside,” Taryn says quickly. “They’ll freeze out here. Everyone else has enough fat to manage. We’re putting heaters out here right?”
My dad gives her a surprised look, but her tone brooks no argument and he finally nods. “The barn has its own generator so we’ll keep it warm as long as the generator keeps up its end of the bargain. The cats—”
“Go in the house,” she repeats. “Non-negotiable.”
I hide my smile at that, but I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up my throat when my father just nods.
The man has never given in to anyone. He always insists on being in charge, control freak that he is.
But Taryn has somehow gone from being the girl he basically ignores to the one ordering him around.
And honestly, I’m here for it. The old man needs to let someone else make some decisions for him.
Taryn shoots me a victorious grin, and then we head for the ATVs again. With the animals secured, we can get to the important stuff: wood gathering. My father takes one ATV while Taryn and I take one of our own, falling into place behind my father.
“I can’t believe you just got him to agree to taking the cats in the house,” I shout as I steer through the snow, carefully following the path my father is creating.
Around us, the snow is blinding in the daylight, the trees groaning under their burdens of fresh ice and snow.
It’s cold and biting out here, and I’m glad it’s at least light out.
This sort of storm brings brutally cold temperatures with it, and we won’t be venturing out after dark until it passes.
Honestly, we’re lucky we didn’t lose any of the animals last night.
We should have been out gathering them the moment it started snowing.
Except Taryn was more important.
“I can,” she answers. “He knows a good idea when he hears it.”
“Not when it comes from me,” I note.
She laughs. “He can’t hear it when it comes from you. He needs a woman to point out when he’s wrong. You two have been on your own for too long. You’ve gone feral.”
I’m immediately offended. “Well, that’s a stretch.”
I can feel her stare on my face like she’s pointing a fucking laser beam at me. “Is it? How often do you do laundry? Speak to each other? When’s the last time you two had dinner together before I arrived, Gabe?”
My will to argue with her wilts at every question, because I know I don’t have a good answer for any of that.
My father and I haven’t had a decent conversation in years, and until last night, when he suddenly told me to go upstairs and get in shower to warm up, I would have told you he didn’t care if I lived or died.
Maybe she’s right, and we have gone feral.
And I didn’t even realize it until she pointed it out.
* * *
We have the almost unbelievable luck of finding two pine trees down in the same meadow, both of them having fallen with the weight of the snow in their branches, and my father and I get to work immediately, trimming the branches off to expose the trunks while Taryn sits in the ATV and gives us helpful advice.
“Don’t you think you should work from the bottom?” she asks.
As we start at the top.
I swing my axe, grinning as it goes clean through the first branch. I glance up at her, stupidly hoping she saw it, and immediately feel like some sort of puppy when I see her lifted brow.
“What?” I ask, pretending I don’t know why she’s looking at me like that.
She lifts her other brow, her expression suddenly all innocence, and I bark out a laugh.
“What?” she asks sweetly.
This girl.
“We start from the top because it gives us the best vision of what the tree is,” my father cuts in. “Which Gabe would have told you if he wasn’t so busy flirting with you.”
I swing the axe again, cutting neatly through another branch, and rest it in the snow, throwing my shoulders back and turning my chest in Taryn’s general direction. “Flirting? Looks like I’m already through two branches, whereas you’ve only done one.”
He scoffs and cuts through the next branch, then throws some side eye in my direction.
I don’t miss the way his eyes turn to Taryn, though. Or the twitch of his lips when he sees her looking.