Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Clark
The room is quiet except for the hum of the radiator, working overtime on the cold night. Jess is curled against me, her cheek pressed to my chest, fingers tracing lazy shapes across my skin. It’s the kind of silence I didn’t know I needed—soft, easy.
No noise. Just us.
We’ve talked about everything tonight—favorite cereal, first heartbreaks, best travel destinations. She told me how she fell in love with fashion one summer in Paris, how her grandmother insists on using Gen Z slang even though she’s eighty.
I admitted I’ve never been farther than Vancouver for hockey tournaments. I’ve spent my life chasing a puck. Talking like this… it feels bigger than a single night.
I glance at my phone, making sure Ingrid doesn’t need me. No more Rocky Road emergencies. No other kind either.
“Sorry,” I mutter, putting my phone back on the nightstand. “Ingrid’s due in less than a month. I’m paranoid.”
She yawns, snuggling back into my arms. “You’re such a good brother. Matt wouldn’t even notice if I were pregnant.”
I inhale sharply, saying the thing I don’t often voice. “She’s having the baby on her own.”
Jess tilts her head. “On her own? What do you mean?”
“She used a service—BundleUp. Picked a donor. Decided she wouldn’t wait for the right guy. She’s always been brave.”
Jess softens. “That’s not just brave. That’s incredible. I love that for her.”
Something inside me eases. No awkwardness. No judgment. Just quiet admiration. I run my fingers through her hair, and she sighs, like we’ve found a safe harbor in the middle of a snowstorm.
Eventually, her breathing slows, syncing with mine. Her hand rests over my heart. I don’t even fight sleep.
Then a shrill sound shatters the quiet. My phone flashes red with a weather alert.
Jess blinks awake, hair mussed, voice raspy. “What’s happening?”
“Blizzard warning,” I mutter. “It’s worse than expected.”
She grabs her phone, expression sharpening from sleepy to panicked. She swings her legs out of bed, pacing. “The roads are closing. Oh God—they’re actually closing. I should’ve left last night—”
Guilt hits me like a punch. I stumble over discarded clothes. “I’m so sorry, Jess.”
She freezes, blank expression. “It’s okay.”
But it’s not. “We’ll fix this. I promise.”
Her voice cracks. “This is so unfair. I should be on the road already. Halfway down the mountain. But I wanted to be here. I wanted last night.”
Hearing it out loud eases some of the weight, but the guilt remains.
I step closer, touching her arm gently. “We’ll figure it out. I swear, Jess, I’m not letting a storm ruin this for you.”
She looks up, eyes bright and wet. Sniffing, she steadies herself.
“How? How are we supposed to get off this mountain?”
“I’ll find a way.” My voice is firm, steadier than I feel. “I promise.”
She loops her arms around my neck. “I’m not sorry. I’m glad I stayed. Glad I found you.”
I wrap my arms around her waist. “We’ll get you down safely.”
She nuzzles my neck. “But if we can’t, that’s okay. It’s not on you.”
Her face lifts to mine. I press my lips to hers. Kissing her reinforces how badly I want to make this right. Her body melts against mine. I drag my lips from hers and stalk to the window.
Outside, the wind howls. Snow swirls thick, the road disappearing under a white blanket.
Every option collapses before it forms. Town plows won’t make it for hours. My truck won’t survive half a mile. And I can’t just watch her opportunity slip away.
I grab my phone, scrolling through contacts. Most of my old hockey buddies live in the city. My nearest neighbor’s a mile down the ridge—snowed in.
Then it hits me: Eli.
He helps at the farm, always bragging about rescuing tourists who think SUVs can outdrive mountain weather. A long shot—but a shot.
I call.
“Clark?” His voice crackles through static and wind. “You seeing this blizzard?”
“Yeah. I need a favor.” I glance at Jess—hands twisting in her sleeves, lips pressed tight to stop trembling.
“Uh-oh. The kind that has me leaving my warm house?”
“Pretty much.” I jaw tight, staring out the window. “Someone needs to get down the mountain. It can’t wait.”
A long pause. “Give me twenty minutes.”
I hang up. Jess looks at me, hope flickering.
“We’re getting you off this mountain,” I say.
Her lips part. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” I smile. “You’re not missing this opportunity. Not on my watch.”
One more call to an old teammate, and another favor is secured. Small towns—you help each other. Everyone’s family. I’ve never been prouder.
We step outside. Snow whips sideways; evergreens bow under the weight.
Jess stares at the vanished road. “Oh no.” Her voice cracks.
I feel her panic, and it steels me. I’ll move mountains if I have to—or at least dig us out of one.
A growl in the distance: Eli on his snowmobile, ski mask half-burying his face.
“You owe me big for this one,” he shouts over the wind.
“Add it to my tab,” I call back.