Chapter 7
Sayla
R oque pulled on his thick jacket, zipped it up to his throat, and stomped his boots down for extra warmth before grabbing the ladder leaning against the house.
“The snow’s getting too damn heavy,” he muttered, securing the base before starting his climb. “Roof’s not meant to hold that much weight.”
I watched him disappear over the edge, his boots crunching through the thick layer above me. A few moments later, a sharp thud echoed through the air as he started shoving the snow off in chunks.
As I leaned against the doorframe, arms wrapped around me for warmth, my gaze drifted toward my house across the road.
The roof was buried.
The sheer weight of the snow pressing down on it had to be ridiculous. Given the luck I’d had lately, it’d be just right for it to finally give in and collapse, crushing my ceiling and adding even more work to the already never-ending list of disasters my house had thrown at me.
I sighed, shaking my head at the thought.
Before I could dwell too much on it, Roque’s voice rang out from above.
“Timber!”
I barely had time to register what he’d said before a massive pile of snow tumbled down from the roof, smacking against my legs and pinning me to the spot. The icy weight pressed in instantly, shocking me with how heavy it was.
“Goddammit, Roque!” I yelped, trying to kick my way free, but it was no use. My boots were completely buried, and my jeans were already soaked through.
A deep, familiar laugh came from the roof. “I told you to move.”
I glared up at him, squinting against the bright white sky. “You did not tell me to move. You yelled timber like this was a goddamn lumberjack competition!”
He snorted. “Same thing.”
“It is not the same thing, you ass!” I tried again to wriggle free, but my feet weren’t going anywhere.
Still chuckling, Roque made his way to the edge, one brow raised in amusement as he peered down at me. “You stuck, sweetheart?”
I gritted my teeth. “No, I’m just lying here for fun.”
“Thought so.”
Before I could formulate a sufficiently murderous response, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Given my current state of immobility, it took some effort to pull it out, but I managed to do so and groaned the second I saw the caller ID.
Dad. Aw, hell, guess he’d seen the text I’d sent.
Taking a deep breath, I answered, bracing myself for the inevitable.
“You’re staying where?” His voice was deep, firm, and already laced with disapproval.
Even though we were on the phone, I just knew Roque could hear him because I could see him fighting back a smile. His shoulders began shaking, and he half-buried his face in the collar of his hoodie.
Before I could answer, Dad continued, his voice dropping into that tone that meant he was this close to losing his patience. “And you’re staying there, why?”
“Honey, she’s already explained this to you twice,” Mom’s voice sighed from the background. “She has a bath in her living room, broken pipes and electrical wires hanging everywhere, a hole in the ceiling, the other pipes have bur?—”
“You’re not helping,” I hissed, knowing she could hear me since I was on speakerphone. “That’s like when you break a bone, and someone keeps poking it to see if it hurts.”
Roque, at this point, was fully shaking with suppressed laughter.
“As soon as this storm’s over,” Dad continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “you’re going to call the asshole that convinced you that house was okay and?—”
I sighed, tuning him out as Roque finally lost the battle with his amusement, yanking his hoodie over his face to muffle the snort that escaped.
“Do I make myself clear?” Dad demanded.
I cleared my throat, pretending I hadn’t just spaced out. “Um… if I can remember the name of the person who did it, I’ll get right on that.”
There was silence followed by a choking noise that made me wince.
“At least tell me you’re insured,” he asked, exasperation clear in his voice.
That I was pretty sure about. “I’m fairly certain that’s true,” I hedged.
There was a beat of silence, and then— “Fairly certain?” Dad and Roque echoed simultaneously, one in disbelief, the other in sheer amusement.
“I mean, I submitted all the forms for it. I… well, I don’t have the policy number right now. Does that still count?”
Roque let out a low chuckle, muttering under his breath, “And you better make sure it covers houses with no conveyancing reports…”
Of course, Dad heard him.
“Jesus Christ, Sayla,” he groaned, and I could picture him rubbing the spot between his eyes like he always did when he was tired or fed up. “As soon as this shit stops falling from the sky, I’m coming over to see what’s happened. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think?”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
“Do you want me to see if Cash can make it there through the snow?” he asked, clearly already planning for backup.
While not entirely insufferable, my brother was definitely not someone I wanted in the middle of this mess right now. Sure, he knew his way around home repairs, but did I really want him to add his opinion to this disaster?
I hesitated, weighing my options.
“No,” I said finally. “It’s too dangerous. I’ll meet you at the house as soon as the snow stops falling.”
Dad sighed, clearly not happy with my answer but accepting it nonetheless. “Fine, stay out of trouble, okay?”
I glanced down at my legs, still very much trapped in snow, and sighed.
Yeah, that ship had already sailed.
With a frustrated huff, I started digging myself out of the snow, cursing whoever had come up with the brilliant idea of mittens.
Useless. Completely, utterly useless.
Who the hell thought it was a good idea to trap fingers together like some hand prison? How was I supposed to do anything when I couldn’t separate them to get some leverage?
I groaned, shaking my head as I tried again, my mittens slipping uselessly against the snow. I couldn’t even get a proper grip.
Damn whoever invented these ridiculous things. And damn me for buying them.
Why had I thought they were a good idea? Oh, they’re warm, Sayla, you’ll love them, I had told myself. They’re cute and cozy.
Yeah, cozy didn’t mean functional, and right now, I needed functional.
Before I could get too far in my mitten-related rage, a shadow loomed over me, and a deep voice drawled, “You planning on making a snow angel, or do you need some help?”
I glared up at Roque, my breath coming out in a frosty puff. “Oh, I’m just peachy. Thought I’d take a little break while half my body is stuck in a frozen grave.”
His mouth twitched, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Right. That’s what it looked like.”
Before I could make another smartass remark, he crouched down and grabbed me by the arms, his hands firm and warm even through my thick jacket. With surprising ease, he freed one of my legs, then the other, his grip steady as he pulled me upright.
“See?” He smirked. “Nothing to it.”
I wobbled slightly, still getting my balance, when he reached out and started patting the snow off me. His hands brushed over my coat, knocking the clumps loose, moving lower until his palm landed on my ass. And lingered.
Heat shot through me, unexpected and sharp, my breath catching in my throat. His touch was firm and deliberate, and his fingers flexed slightly before?—
The sound of paws scraping against wood caught both of our attention.
The screened porch door swung open, and in a blur of fur and energy, Roque’s dogs came barreling out, tongues lolling, eyes bright with excitement.
“Oh, shit,” Roque muttered.
That was all the warning I got before they were on me.
A solid, happy mass of muscle and fur collided with my legs, sending me stumbling backward. Roque barely had time to react before gravity took over, and suddenly, I was falling right back into the snow with Roque on top of me.
A heavy oof escaped me as I landed flat on my back, snow spraying around us. Roque’s weight pressed into me, his body flush against mine, his face so close I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. For a moment, neither of us moved.
His hands were braced on either side of my head, his chest pressing against mine, his hips—God, his hips —settled perfectly against me. His eyes locked onto mine, dark and unreadable, and for a brief, wild second, I wondered if he was going to kiss me.
Then, a big, sloppy tongue dragged up the side of my face. I yelped, shoving at the giant mutt responsible as Roque burst into laughter above me.
“Well,” he said, smirking down at me, his breath still coming a little fast. “That’s one way to break a fall.”
I groaned, shoving snow at his face. “Get off me, you ass.”
But even as he rolled off, I couldn’t ignore the way my body still tingled where he had been pressed against me or the way he’d looked at me just before the dogs had ruined the moment.
The movie played, but I barely paid attention. The electricity was back on—for now. The lights flickered every so often, making the shadows in the room shift like they were alive. Any second, we expected the power to go out again, but we were pretending it wouldn’t.
Roque sat beside me on the couch, legs stretched out, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. He looked relaxed, but he wasn’t. He kept twitching, and his fingers tapped against his knee, then his thigh. His jaw clenched and loosened, and then he exhaled heavily through his nose.
And he turned his head slightly every few minutes like he was about to say something—only to shut his mouth again.
I ignored it at first, keeping my focus on the screen, pretending I wasn’t noticing every little movement. But after the fifth time, I finally sighed and turned to him, arching a brow.
"Just say it, Roque."
He stilled, his fingers flexing. His jaw worked like he was fighting something. Then, without looking at me, he exhaled hard and ran a hand through his hair.
"Our nights together," he started, his voice low, rough, "they meant something to me. Just so you know."
The words landed heavily between us, the weight of them settling in my chest.
I swallowed, my pulse kicking up. "Then why—" I hesitated, shifting to face him more fully. "Why did you always leave? Why did you sneak out before I woke up?"
Roque’s fingers stilled against his thigh. His eyes flicked to mine, something unreadable behind them before he looked away again.
"Because her lights were off," he murmured.
I frowned. "What?"
His throat bobbed, tension coiling in his shoulders. "Your neighbor," he clarified. "The one whose house you saw me going into."
I felt my stomach tighten.
He must’ve seen something in my expression because he shook his head. "It’s not what you think."
"Then tell me what it is ," I said, my voice quieter than before.
He hesitated. I knew that look. The one that said he wanted to tell me but wasn’t sure he could.
"I can’t answer that right now," he admitted, his voice low. "But Iwill. Soon."
My chest squeezed. I wanted to push, to demand he tell me right then and there, to get rid of the gnawing feeling in my gut. But the way he was looking at me, the way his jaw was tight, and his fingers curled into his palm like he washolding something back—it stopped me.
"Could you just… trust me?" he asked quietly.
I inhaled slowly, feeling the weight of those words settle between us.
Did I trust him? I wanted to. Despite everything, the hurt and seeing him atherhouse, I wanted to believe him.
So I nodded. Not fully convinced. Not completely reassured. But just enough to let him know I was trying .
A slow exhale left him like he’d been bracing for a different reaction. Maybe he hadn’t expected me to give him that small piece of faith.
We didn’t say anything for a while after that.
The lights flickered again, and Roque shifted closer, his arm resting along the back of the couch, his fingers just barely grazing my shoulder. I let myself lean into his warmth and let myself believe—just for a little while—that maybe, just maybe , I wasn’t completely stupid for still wanting to.
The hurt wasn’t gone.
But for the first time in a long time, it felt a little bit easier.