Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
A snowstorm is brewing outside, and I sit in my room, staring out my window, trying to breathe. It’s only September, but when you live in Lubec, you know that sometimes Mother Nature has a cruel sense of humor.
My eyes are fixed on the swirling flakes, the only thing that has kept me from spiraling into a flashback.
It’s snow, not rain.
But the sound of the wind whistling through the old house is the same.
Memories of another storm, another time, haunt me.
The sounds of that fateful night still echo in my mind, a constant reminder of the price I paid.
My heart is racing, and my chest feels tight.
Anxiety creeps in, clawing its way up from the depths of my soul.
I should have known better than to look out the window, to let myself get lost in the past in the first place.
I clench my fists, my prosthetic leg itching with phantom pain. The image of the boat, the howling wind, and the crashing waves over my head is vivid, like it happened just yesterday. But it’s been years now since I lost my leg, since that storm took so much from me, from us.
Normally, when a storm this size hits, I would already be hiding in my bathtub.
Pathetic, I know.
But it’s the only place that feels safe when my mind spirals out of control. The only place I can let myself break without dragging the ones around me down with me.
The only thing that keeps me from doing just that now is her.
Sloan’s words replay in my mind, a gnawing feeling settling in my stomach with the falling snow. Her heater broke, and she lives in that damn rusty van. She’s out there somewhere in this freezing mess. I can’t just sit here, warm and safe in my room, while she’s left to shiver and suffer.
A war rages inside me, a battle between self-preservation and a nagging sense of responsibility. One part of me wants to retreat, hide, and curl up in the bathtub until the storm blows over. The other part screams at me to do something to make sure Sloan is okay.
The snow whirls against the window, a gentle but persistent reminder that the clock is ticking. I can almost see her out there, huddled in that van, her breath visible in the frigid air. The thought of her freezing and alone makes me sick, and I can’t ignore it any longer.
With a deep breath, I push myself up from my chair, my prosthetic thumping against the wooden floor as I walk into the hallway.
I’ll make sure she’s warm.
I’ll bring her home.
I’ll do whatever it takes to keep the ghosts of my past at bay as long as it takes to make sure she’s okay.
I can still hide afterward.
Making my way from my room to the front door, Nash asks from the living room, “Where are you going this late dressed like a slut?”
I look down at my gray sweatpants and have to laugh. Just because it’s his go-to outfit for late-night booty calls doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t wear them anymore.
“I’m going to get her,” I tell him, grabbing my coat from the coatrack and pulling it on when Nash and North come rushing out of the living room.
“Are you talking about who I think you are?” Nash asks, brow furrowed.
“No fucking way, Hunt.” North is seething, his eyes already spewing fire at me.
“Have you seen the storm outside? She told us that her damn heater broke! She lives in a van, North. Can you imagine how cold she will get in a fucking van without a heater while there’s a snowstorm?
” I ask him, my frustration growing and my voice growing louder before I remember Lio is already asleep since it’s just past nine.
I continue much softer, “She’s going to freeze to death, and we are sitting on our asses in a warm home with three fucking empty rooms! ”
Nash’s face morphs from surprised to concerned. “She lives in a van?” He looks over at North, waiting for his decision.
Oh, he can wait as long as he wants. I won’t.
I’m about to move, but North reaches out to grab my upper arm. “She’s barging her way in. She’s counting on your pity, and you idiots can’t even see it. She just wants to get with Nash!”
Nash grunts out a harsh laugh. “I wish.”
My fury bubbles over, and I whisper-shout at him, “We can’t leave her out there like that! I’m the one getting her. She hasn’t even asked for help! Could you live with yourself if something happened to her?”
North looks out of the window, gnawing on his bottom lip and breathing heavily. I don’t give a damn about his opinion on the matter, so I turn to leave.
Sometimes, it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Even though I won’t be asking North to forgive me for what I’m about to do.
Just as I want to open the door, North sighs heavily. “Fucking fine, but I don’t want to see her, and I don’t want to hear her. She will be gone as soon as it’s warmer or she gets that heater. You get her, she’s your responsibility, and you’ll look after her.”
“She’s not a damn dog, North.” Nash chuckles, and I can see how he just turned from concerned to giddy.
Forget it, buddy.
“She will be here without you trying to get in her pants, understood? Or I will throw you out to live in the doghouse.” I point a finger at him, and he smirks at me.
“Whatever you say, brother.”
The relentless cold seeps into my bones as I huddle in my van, shivering uncontrollably.
Of course, there is a fucking snowstorm in September just when my heater broke. Lubec doesn’t give a shit about the calendar.
I’m honestly starting to question if I did something to deserve the karma. Last night was bad enough, but now? Now it’s barely tolerable.
My feet are under the layers of three pairs of socks, and two hoodies hang heavy on my shoulders, the bigger one being Nash’s.
It still smells like him, which nearly killed me the whole day, but I chose to ignore it in favor of the warmth.
My blanket is cocooning me, but the cold still seeps through, unrelenting.
Again, it takes me back to the last time I felt this cold, trapped in that dark room.
The fear had been overwhelming, the certainty that I might not survive. Now, I’m back in that same place, that same bone-deep cold threatening to consume me.
I try to think of ways to stay warm, wrapping my arms around myself and wiggling my toes, hoping to generate some heat.
Maybe I could light a few candles, but the risk of fire in this confined space scares me.
Fear begins to creep in, a slow and steady crawl up my spine as I watch my breath form frosty clouds.
Fuck, that’s not good.
I clutch the plastic bottle I had filled with warm water a few hours earlier.
It’s long gone cold, and the thought of making another trip to the restaurant’s bathroom to refill it makes me shiver even more.
Leaving my makeshift cocoon is daunting.
I weigh my options, knowing that if I stay here, I might freeze to death, and if I go out into that snowstorm, who knows what could happen.
Pulling aside one of the curtains, I peer outside, but it is nearly a whiteout.
The street lamps illuminate the snowflakes, making it look like a yellowy snow globe shaken too hard.
I can’t even make out the restaurant just a few feet away.
Having no experience whatsoever with snow, I don’t know how to handle all of this.
“We need to get you out of here. I bet Tally would much rather handle the health department for having you sleep a night in the restaurant than the cops handling a body in her driveway,” Saylor urges from beside me with a concerned face, his nose all scrunched up.
He’s been with me the whole day, longer than ever before, and I’m dreading the moment he gets pulled away, leaving me alone in the cold.
At least his company keeps my thoughts occupied and my mind from completely spiraling.
“Why would she even let you sleep outside in this cold?”
“I h-haven’t told her about the heater,” I admit through chattering teeth.
“Are you kidding me? I bet she would have let you sleep inside somewhere!” Saylor is furious. His concern for me is turning more into anger the longer he feels helpless. I have no doubt if he could, he would have thrown me over his shoulder and gotten me over there hours ago.
“Sh-she’s very p-pregnant, okay? And sh-she’s doing enough f-for me as it is,” I stutter.
“She won’t be much longer if you freeze to death, goddammit!” Saylor yells, exasperated. “Come on, grab some shit, you’re going over there now. I know it’s scary, but I can lead you.”
I’ve reached a point where I’m scared of what will happen if I stay here too long, so I gather a bag with my toiletries, a set of clothes, my phone, and a charger.
Then, I push my pillow under my armpit and pull my blanket tighter around me.
Just as I stand to leave, there is a loud knock on the side door of the van.
My surprised gaze flicks to Saylor. “Cops?”
He pushes his head out of the side of the van in a way only a ghost can before he pulls it back inside with a relieved grin. “Cavalry. Fuck, I could kiss him.”
“Sloan!” Hunter’s deep voice comes through the door from outside before he knocks again. I fumble with my cold hands to open the van door, and as soon as I get it open, I see him standing there, the hood of his coat up, snow and wind brushing around him.
Relief washes over me.
He came for me.
“H-Hunter?” I ask, but he doesn’t say another word.
He pulls me out of the van and to his chest before pushing the door closed.
The wind tugs at us as he carries me the few steps to his truck through the ankle-deep snow.
Then he opens the passenger door, sitting me inside before closing the door for me.
The truck is still running, and the heater is on the highest possible setting, blowing warmth out of the vents. Tears start forming in my eyes as I realize how cold I am now that I feel the warm air blowing into my face.