Chapter 8
8
Declan
I ’m halfway back to the cabin when my foot slides out from under me for what feels like the tenth time. The wood bundle I’m carrying tips awkwardly in my arms, nearly taking me down with it. Somehow, I manage to stay upright, but it’s a close call. The ice under the fresh layer of snow is slicker than I expected, and this driveway is turning into a death trap with every passing moment.
“Careful,” Jade calls from behind me, her voice laced with amusement. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see her taking a step forward and promptly losing her own balance. Her feet go out from under her, and she lands on her back with a muffled thud in the snow.
I can’t help it. I laugh. It’s the kind of laugh that comes from sheer exhaustion and the absurdity of the situation, the sound cutting through the howl of the wind. She glares up at me from the ground, her cheeks flushed, whether from embarrassment or the cold, I can’t tell.
“You okay?” I ask, setting down the wood bundle and taking a cautious step toward her. The last thing I need is to fall on top of her, but I can’t just leave her there.
“I’m fine,” she mutters, brushing snow off her gloves. She tries to sit up, but the icy ground sends her sliding a few inches farther downhill, and the laugh escapes me again before I can stop it.
“Here,” I say, holding out a hand. I’m half-expecting her to swat it away, but after a moment’s hesitation, she takes it. Her hand is small in mine, yet it somehow feels like it belongs. I try to focus on keeping my balance as I pull her to her feet.
The attempt is almost heroic. Almost. The second she’s upright, my boots lose their grip, and we both go down like a couple of dominoes. This time, I land on my side, my shoulder hitting the snow with a dull thud, and she falls halfway on top of me, her elbow jabbing me in the ribs.
“For the love of—” she starts, cutting herself off with a groan. “This driveway is a death trap.”
“No argument here,” I say, pushing myself up onto one elbow. She’s still sprawled beside me, her face scrunched up in frustration, and I can’t help but notice the way the snow has caught in her dark hair and eyelashes, the damp strands framing her face.
I look away quickly, focusing on brushing the snow off my coat.
“You good?” I ask almost breathlessly, forcing myself to find some composure.
“Yeah,” she says, sitting up with a sigh. “The snow is a pretty nice cushion. It’s just my pride that’s bruised.”
I offer her my hand again, more carefully this time, and she lets me help her up. This time, we both manage to stay on our feet, though I’m not entirely sure how. She wobbles slightly, her gloved hand gripping my arm for balance, and for a brief moment, we’re standing there, closer than we probably should be.
Her eyes meet mine, wide and dark, and I catch a flicker of something there, something that makes my chest tighten in a way I haven’t felt in years, not since Cassidy. The wind tugs at her hair, and the world around us feels muted, the storm a distant roar compared to the silence stretching between us.
And then I force myself to look away.
“Let’s get the rest of this wood inside,” I say gruffly, stepping back. “The storm’s not waiting for us to finish.”
“Right,” she says quickly, her voice a little higher than usual. She lets go of my arm, and I pretend I don’t notice the lingering pressure from where her hand was.
We fall into an awkward rhythm after that, both of us hyper-focused on the task at hand. The snow is coming down harder now, the flakes thick and wet, turning to sleet as the wind picks up. It’s nearly impossible to keep our footing, and we slip and slide our way through the rest of the unloading process like a couple of clumsy ice skaters.
At one point, I nearly drop an entire bundle of wood when a gust of wind catches me off guard, sending me stumbling into the side of the truck. Jade laughs softly from the porch but looks at me with sympathy. I don’t think she meant for me to hear her laughter, but I can’t help but rib her a little.
“Glad you’re enjoying this,” I mock, making sure to keep my tone as good-natured as possible.
I’m not mad in the slightest. Despite the absurdity of the situation, and the aching chill of the cold, I’m finding this all rather nice. This is the most time I’ve spent with anyone in years, and there’s an easiness between us, an unexpected comfort that’s developed since we’ve seen each other at our clumsiest.
“Hey, you’re the one who offered to help,” she says, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Don’t remind me,” I mutter, though I can’t help the smirk that sneaks onto my face.
It’s a mess, the whole thing. And yet, I don’t hate it. As frustrating as this weather is, and as much as I know I should be on the road back to my own cabin by now, there’s something about being here with her that doesn’t feel like a chore. It feels natural, familiar even. Like this isn’t the first time we’ve worked side by side, even though I couldn’t have picked her out of a crowd before yesterday.
I catch myself watching her again as she carries another bundle of wood toward the cabin, her steps careful but determined. She’s tougher than she looks, but there’s a vulnerability there too, something she’s clearly trying to hide. She’s surprisingly independent, despite the fact that I’m helping her. She keeps acting like she’s put me out in some way, though I was the one who offered to do this.
I don’t think she’s used to kindness from anyone, especially strangers. Given my past, I can’t help but wonder what she’s been through, if she’s seen a similar darkness that I have. Hell, if someone offered me this same help, I would’ve turned them down in an instant. I’ve prided myself on not needing anyone since I moved here.
I shouldn’t be noticing these things. I shouldn’t be noticing her at all. I shouldn’t be worrying about her riding out this storm all alone. But I am, and it’s messing with my head in a way I didn’t expect.
By the time we unload the last bundle of wood, I’m soaked through, freezing, and more than ready to get the hell out of here. I just want to get back to my place and unwind in front of the fire before the storm fully begins. As it is, I’m cutting it pretty close. Jade stands on the porch, brushing snow off her coat as she watches me close up the truck bed. Her breath fogs in the air, her cheeks red from the cold, and she looks so damn grateful that it makes my chest ache.
“Thanks for all the help,” she says, her voice quiet but sincere. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“You’d have figured it out,” I reply, though my voice comes out gruffer than I intended. I clear my throat, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Just make sure you keep the fire going.”
She nods, and for a moment, I think she’s going to say something else. But the moment stretches, and I can’t bring myself to fill the silence. I glance toward my truck, then back at her, the words I want to say sticking in my throat.
I should leave. I need to leave. But instead, I hear myself asking, “You got a phone number? Just in case. I promised Ron I’d check in on you.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly, but she doesn’t hesitate. She pulls her phone from her pocket, her fingers trembling slightly as I tell her my number so she can send me her information. My phone buzzes a moment later, and I see her number on my screen.
“There,” she says, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “Now you can text me if you get stuck.”
“Or if you do,” I reply, the corner of my mouth lifting in a half-smile.
She smiles back, small but genuine, and for a moment, I forget about the storm entirely. But the wind picks up again, and reality crashes back in.
“I should get going,” I say, taking a step toward my truck. “Take care of yourself, Jade.”
“You too,” she says, her voice soft but steady. “Thanks again.”
I climb into the cab, the warmth of the heater hitting me as I start the engine. It’s a welcome reprieve from the freezing cold outside. The windshield wipers struggle to keep up with the falling snow, but the truck roars to life, ready to go. I take one last look at Jade, standing on the porch with her arms wrapped around herself, and then I put the truck in gear. I’m so distracted watching her, that I don’t immediately react when a loud, sharp crack echoes through the mountain.
My heart jumps, and I slam on the brakes, the truck skidding to a stop as I put it back in park. I’m moving completely on instinct, so panicked that I hardly notice as shards of glass rain down on me and the sound of scream cuts through the chaos. It’s her screaming, her visceral fear that I respond to most.
It’s happening again, it’s the only thing I can think. Whoever planted that car bomb has found me, and it’s finally come for its intended target. I see Cassidy’s face in my mind, smiling brightly just before she got into the car and turned on the engine, so unaware that it would be the last glance we would ever share.
My breath catches in my throat and I’m unable react. I don’t know what’s happening, I just know that Jade is screaming out, my name falling from her lips.
I turn my face to the window and see her standing there, horrified as she pulls on the door.