9. Willow
9
WILLOW
T he second Reid leaves, the cold creeps back in, instantly making me shiver. The silence is eerie, broken only by the wind and the odd wolf barking in the distance. My leg throbs, a constant reminder of the shit situation I'm in, but it's the memory of that kiss that consumes my thoughts.
Did that really just happen? I can still feel the ghost of his lips on mine, the scratch of his stubble against my skin. It was brief but intense, charged with an energy I can't quite define. Fear, relief, attraction... or something more?
I let out a wry chuckle, wincing as the movement jostles my leg. Is there a term for falling for your rescuer? It's such a cliché, the damsel in distress swooning over the rugged hero who saved her life. But I can't deny the pull I feel towards Reid, the way my heart races when he's near.
It's not just gratitude, though there's plenty of that. No, it's something deeper, a connection forged through shared vulnerability and understanding. In the short time we've been trapped here, I've seen glimpses of the man beneath the gruff exterior - the one who's been through hell and back, who understands the weight of expectation and the pain of loss.
Despite the dire circumstances, I realize I feel more alive right now than I have since my last Olympic race. The adrenaline, the heightened emotions, the sense that every moment matters—it’s intoxicating—and terrifying.
I close my eyes, trying to push away the fear that threatens to overwhelm me—fear for my own safety, fear for Reid out there alone, fear of these intense, unexpected feelings. I focus instead on the hope that he'll find a way to get us out of here and that this won't be the end of our story.
The hours drag on, each minute feeling like an eternity in this frozen tomb. The pain in my leg goes from a dull throb to a searing agony, pulsing with every beat of my heart. I grit my teeth, trying to breathe through it, but it's getting harder to focus on anything else.
In a desperate attempt to distract myself, I let my mind wander to my family. Mom's probably beside herself with worry by now. I wish I'd told her "I love you" more often instead of brushing off her concerns with a flippant "I'm fine." And Dad... God, the thought of never getting the chance to mend our relationship makes my chest ache worse than my leg.
As I sit here, trapped and helpless, the weight of my life choices crashes down on me. All the missed opportunities, the single-minded focus on my Olympic dreams to the exclusion of everything else. What do I have to show for it now? A broken body and a shattered sense of self?
But then I think of Reid, of the life he's built for himself after leaving the army. If he can start over, why can't I? Maybe this is a sign, a chance to reassess what I want from life. The idea of staying in Hope Peak flits through my mind, tangled up with the possibility of exploring whatever this thing is between Reid and me.
A fresh wave of pain jolts me back to the present. Gritting my teeth, I drag myself over to Reid's backpack, rummaging through it in search of painkillers. My fingers brush against something unexpected - a small, worn photograph. Curiosity getting the better of me, I pull it out for a closer look.
It's a picture of Reid with a group of men in army fatigues, their arms slung around each other's shoulders. They're grinning at the camera, but a hardness in their eyes speaks of things seen and done. I trace the lines of Reid's face, younger but still recognizable, and feel a pang of longing to know the man behind the uniform.
As I tuck the photo back into his bag, I realize how much I want to unravel the mystery that is Reid Hart. Not just the gruff mountain rescuer or the haunted ex-soldier but the person beneath it all. The one who makes my pulse race and my defenses crumble.
I slump back against the icy wall of the shelter, my mind spinning. For so long, I've been running from my past, from the pain of losing my Olympic dreams and the pressure of everyone's expectations. But in this frozen wilderness, with death lurking just outside, I've found a glimmer of something I thought I'd lost forever: hope.
It's not just about survival anymore. It's about the possibility of a future, one where I'm not defined by my failures or my fame. And somehow, inexplicably, that future is tangled up with Reid.
I close my eyes, picturing his face. The sharp angles softened by concern, the piercing eyes that see straight through my attitude. I think of the way his arms felt around me last night, solid and reassuring, and the heat of his lips against mine in that fleeting, charged moment.
I want more of that. More of him. Not just the physical attraction, though there's no denying that's part of it. But the connection, the understanding, the sense that he sees me for who I really am, not just the Olympic darling or the washed-up has-been.
So I make a decision, here in this icy cocoon. When Reid comes back, when we're safe and warm, and my leg isn't screaming in agony, I'm going to take a chance. I'm going to ask him out and suggest we get to know each other beyond the confines of this frozen hell.
Putting myself out there is terrifying, especially after everything I've been through. But if there's one thing I've learned from this ordeal, it's that life is too short to let fear hold me back.
So I'll wait for him, holding onto that spark of hope like a lifeline. And when the time is right, I'll take a deep breath and leap, trusting that whatever happens, I'm finally ready to stop running and start living again.