9. Nine
NINE
Though Alden wasn’t even in the house, I went to Amma’s room for some time alone. But the second I sat on her bed, the cold seeped through my sweater and stayed there. I didn’t know how Alden kept going outside and surviving.
I heard the front door open but I didn’t move, still clinging to the hope that I could have some time alone. Soon, my hands grew cold and I had to move in search of the fire.
I shut the door and turned to Alden, who was once again checking on the stove. The first thing I noticed was the way his ass pressed into his dark-wash jeans. God, was it always so pert? What would it feel like to grab?
“Stella?” he asked as he turned. I averted my eyes.
“The bedrooms are freezing,” I said as I shut the doors. “There’s no way either of us could sleep in them.”
“I figured that would happen. The living room is the only livable room because of the fire.” He went back to his work. “It’s still our best option, but it creates a vacuum that sucks the heat out of the surrounding air.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.”
“Not many people do. They use fires for the looks, not ... this.”
“So, did you learn all of this stuff from your hikes?” I asked.
“That and being a park ranger.”
“Right. You know, no one saw that coming.”
“Neither did I. But I like it. Plus, it helps me keep you safe.”
My skin prickled. I liked the idea of him keeping me safe—but I also wanted to take care of my own damn self.
The wind beat against the house again, reminding me just how scary this situation was. “I can’t believe it got so bad so fast.”
“It hit harder than they expected.”
“That’s not how storms usually go here. How many times did we see snowstorm warnings when we were kids and then be disappointed when they missed us? We always wanted school to be out for the day.”
“I didn’t like missing school.”
“What? Why not?”
“School was the only place to get away from home. You and Nick made it bearable.”
“I thought it was just Nick.”
“No. You were always one of my favorite parts of school. ”
That feeling was back, the prickling one that turned my skin to gooseflesh. If anyone asked, I would say it was the cold.
But in reality, I liked hearing Alden talk like this.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” I said. “With your job and everything. It’s all we wanted for you.”
“And what about you? Are you happy?”
I stiffened as I considered it.
In some ways, I was. I liked capturing memories for people. I loved my best friend and my family.
But sometimes, at night, things felt cold . Even when I had been sharing a bed with someone.
“Yeah, of course.” The lie felt thick, and I turned away. The camera was to my right, and I grabbed it, desperate for a distraction. “Smile!”
I got what was closer to a glare, but he still looked good in the photo after it was printed. Alden had a smolder I’d never seen before, especially when his gaze was directed at me.
“You’re photogenic,” I mumbled and handed him the photo.
“I look grumpy.”
“I have a photographer’s eye. You look fine.”
“If you’re behind the camera, who takes photos of you?”
“M-me?” I shook my head. “Not a lot of photos get taken of me.”
He held out his palm. “Hand me the camera.”
“I don’t need photos of me. I know I don’t look the best?—”
He raised an eyebrow as if daring me to complain about how I looked.
Winnie would give me one hell of a lecture for it, and I never would have done it had it not been for Reed.
Without another word, I handed him the camera.
Alden held it to his eye. “Turn to the right.”
I did as I was told, expecting the photo to come out terrible.
It didn’t.
Alden somehow knew the angle I usually used for selfies. My round face wasn’t on full display and though I wasn’t smiling, my eyes were filled with a fondness I didn’t usually have.
And it was because of who I was looking at.
I cleared my dry throat. “You missed your calling.”
“I take photos of people all the time at the park. And I knew your photo would turn out good.”
I was thrown by his soft tone, feeling once again like the silly teenage version of me with a crush.
“We should figure out sleeping,” I said, desperately needing to change the topic from me. “Will we share or?—”
“I’ll sleep in front of the fire on the floor. You take the couch.” He said it so fast that I got the idea he didn’t want me to finish my sentence.
“A-are you sure? The floor seems uncomfortable.”
“I don’t mind, and I highly doubt you’d want me to sleep on that tiny pullout couch mattress with you. ”
“A-absolutely not.” I tried to sound convincing. But now my entire body was warm. As a teenager, I imagined what it would feel like for Alden’s arms to be wrapped around me. I thought the closest I’d ever get was having him on top of me in the back of his truck.
“Thought so. There should be enough blankets to go around.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
When I woke up only two hours later, I was shivering. The already near-zero temperature outside had dropped, and the living room felt like an icebox, somehow worse than the bedrooms were hours ago.
For a second, I thought about suffering and trying to force myself back to sleep, but then my cold hands reminded me that I literally couldn’t.
“Alden,” I whispered.
He didn’t move at first and panic settled in.
What if he was dead? What the fuck would I do then?
“Alden!” I threw a pillow at him and he jerked awake.
He shot up faster than humanly possible.
“What?” he muttered in his low, rough sleep voice. My stomach flipped. I’d heard him like this when he’d stayed the night at our house, but the roughness of his voice had gotten lower with age. It did unfair things to my body .
And to make matters worse, his hair was adorably disoriented from sleep.
“Stella?” he urged, his voice growing worried. I shook myself out of my stupor.
“I think the fire went out.”
He turned to the stove. “Fuck.” He opened the door. It wasn’t out, but it wasn’t as warm as earlier. He cursed and poked it with a stick—something I didn’t understand, and slowly, it came back to life.
But the cold had permeated the room. And it had to be even worse on the floor.
I knew the second that the thought crossed my mind that I would regret my next sentence.
But I was too cold to care.
“Get up here,” I said.
“What?”
“This room is freezing.”
“I’m fine.”
“You have to be cold down there.”
“I’m really not.”
I got up and placed my hand on his. It was like an icicle.
He jerked it away seconds later. “What are you doing?”
“Calling you out on your lie. You’re cold and it’s worse on the floor. Get on the bed.”
He considered it for far too long—so long I thought he would say no.
“Fine,” he grumbled. He lay on the bed beside me, sighing as if it were a chore. I closed my eyes. I could already feel his heat, and my entire body begged me to latch on to it.
I hated being cold. And sharing body heat was my thing. Many of my exes called me exceptionally clingy in my sleep, which didn’t bode well for my pride. Reed even asked me to sleep in the guest room to break me of the habit. He didn’t want me weighing him down.
Maybe Reed’s dickish request was a good thing. I had gotten good at not cuddling on my nights alone. I could do it here too.
“Is it warming up?” he asked.
“Mostly.”
His eyes met mine before he ripped them away.
“You really don’t want to be up here, do you?” I asked.
“It’s odd sharing a bed after not talking for seven years.”
It was odder for me, considering he’d turned me down firmly all that time ago and my feelings were involuntarily rushing back.
“None of this is for fun,” I muttered, unsure of who it was for, “it’s just for survival.”
The room was eerily silent except for the wind outside.
“Yeah,” he said.
Silence returned, only broken by the shiver that racked my body.
“You’re still cold?”
“I’ll survive. ”
“Move closer.”
“No.”
Yes, my body begged.
“We should share heat.”
I froze and then slowly turned to him. “What did you say?”
“Conserving heat. It’s how we’ll stay warm.”
“I’m not cuddling with you.”
“It’s not cuddling. It’s sharing heat. It’s not ... intimate. It’s for survival.”
Survival . I was starting to hate that word because despite everything, I did not want to be close to him only for survival.