8. Reid
8
REID
T he snow crunches beneath my boots as I pace outside the makeshift ice shelter, the radio clutched in my gloved hand. "Viggo, come in. This is Reid. Over." Static crackles in response, and I grit my teeth, trying again. "Viggo, do you read me? Over." The silence that follows feels heavy, broken only by the soft whisper of falling snow.
I tilt my head back, watching the flakes drift from the gray sky. The storm has eased, but the gentle snowfall does little to calm my growing unease. We need to get out of here.
Tucking the useless radio into my jacket, I scoop a handful of fresh snow and head back to the shelter. I poke my head inside to find Willow still asleep, her face pale against the dark fabric of her jacket. I try not to disturb her as I grab my stove from my pack and set about melting snow for water.
As the snow turns to liquid, I take stock of our supplies. Energy bars, a few packets of freeze-dried meals, and now, a couple of bottles of water. It's not much, but it'll keep us going for a little while longer.
My gaze drifts back to Willow, and worry instantly twists in my gut. She needs medical attention and soon. I know I can't leave her here alone, but the longer we stay put, the slimmer our chances of getting her out of here and saving her leg become.
I need to find a signal, a way to contact Viggo and the team. But as I look out at the vast expanse of white beyond the shelter's entrance, I know it's not going to be easy.
"Reid? Reid, are you there?"
I duck back into the shelter, my heart racing at the sound of Willow's voice. She's sitting up, her face pinched with pain. "Hey, what's wrong?" I ask, kneeling beside her. "Is it your leg?"
She nods, biting her lip. "It's throbbing pretty bad." Her voice is strained, and there’s a sheen of sweat on her forehead.
I reach out, gently placing my hand on her shoulder. "Okay, let's take a look." I carefully shift her pant leg, examining the splint. It's still holding, but her ankle is swelling pretty badly. "I'm going to adjust this; try to ease some pressure. Here, take some more pills to ease the pain."
As I work, I feel Willow's gaze on me. My fingers brush against her skin, and I'm suddenly aware of how close we are in this tiny space. I clear my throat, trying as much as possible to focus on what I’m doing.
"How's that?" I ask, sitting back on my heels.
Willow flexes her foot slightly, wincing. "A little better, thanks." She looks up at me, and I'm struck by the intensity in her eyes. Even in pain, there's a fierceness there, a determination that catches me off guard.
I nod, reaching for my pack. "You should drink something, too. Stay hydrated." I hand her a bottle of water, watching as she takes a long sip.
As she drinks, I study her face. The soft curve of her cheek, the way her dark lashes contrast with her pale skin. She's beautiful, even here, in probably the worst situation you could imagine.
"Reid?" Willow's voice pulls me back. "Thank you. For everything."
I meet her gaze, seeing all the words she wants to say but can’t. "We're going to get you out of here, Willow. I promise."
She nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I know." She settles back against the wall of the shelter. "I trust you."
Those three words hit me like a punch to the gut. Trust. It's not something I'm used to, not something I've allowed myself to feel in a long time. I can't let her down.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I know I need to do. "Willow, listen," I start, my voice low and serious. “The radio's not working here. I need to try to find a signal and let the team know where we are."
Her eyes widen, and I see a flash of fear cross her face. "You're leaving?" she asks, and the vulnerability in her voice catches me off guard.
"Just for a little while," I reassure her quickly. "I won't go far, just far enough to try and get a message through."
She nods, but worry etches in her features. "Okay," she says softly, and I'm struck by how small she looks, huddled against the shelter’s wall.
Without thinking, I reach out, taking her hand in mine. Her fingers are cold, and I give them a gentle squeeze. "Hey," I say, ducking my head to meet her gaze. "I'll be back before you know it. You're safe here, I promise."
Willow looks up at me, and I see a flicker of something in her eyes. Gratitude, maybe, or perhaps something more. She squeezes my hand back, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I know," she says. "I just... what if something happens to you?".
I hesitate at the shelter's entrance. I want to tell her that nothing will happen, that I'll be okay. But I can't guarantee it and won't lie to her. The thought of leaving her alone, even briefly, feels like a lead weight in my chest. I glance back at her, and our eyes lock. I see my reluctance mirrored in her gaze.
"Reid..." she starts, her voice barely above a whisper. "Be careful out there."
I nod, trying to muster a reassuring smile. "I will."
But as I turn to leave, I feel her hand on my arm. Her touch is light, but it stops me in my tracks. I look down at her, and suddenly, the air between us feels electric.
Maybe it's the fear, the risk of not returning to the shelter, or the growing attraction that's been simmering beneath the surface since we first met. But as skin touches skin, something shifts.
Willow leans in, her face tilting up towards mine. I feel my breath catch in my throat, my heart hammering against my ribs. Am I really about to make a move on her?
And then, before I can even process what's happening, her lips are on mine.
My body moves on its own. My hand comes up to cup her cheek, my fingers tangling in her hair. The kiss is gentle at first, almost hesitant, but then Willow presses closer, her mouth opening under mine, and suddenly it's anything but.
I feel the desperation in her kiss: the fear, the longing, and the need for connection. And I'm right there with her, pouring everything I can't say into this one moment. Because out here, in the middle of this frozen wilderness, with danger lurking around every corner, this might be all we have.
But as much as I want to lose myself in her, I know I can't—not now, not when her life is on the line. Slowly, reluctantly, I pull back, resting my forehead against hers. "Willow," I breathe, my voice rough with emotion. “I..."
She shakes her head, pressing a finger to my lips. "Don't," she whispers. "Don't say anything. Just... come back to me, okay?"
I nod, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I will," I promise. "I'll always come back to you."
And with that, I force myself to stand, to step away from the warmth and comfort of her presence.
The cold hits me like a physical blow as I exit the shelter, but I welcome it. It clears my head and sharpens my focus. I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders as I face the vast expanse of white before me. Somewhere out there is a signal, a way to call for help. I won't stop until I find it.
With a final nod of determination, I set off into the snow, the memory of the kiss still burning on my lips.