Chapter 7
The cabin’s empty. I know it the second I step inside. Even so, I spend three minutes scouring the eight-hundred-square-foot space.
“Bellamy!” I call out.
Dread pools in my stomach as I turn to the window. The winter nights in Montana are long, daylight nearly gone. The wind whips, the blowing snow blurring out the world around the cabin.
Heart in my throat, I zero in on the front door. “She wouldn’t,” I lie to myself.
She would.
This is the girl who raised a passel of orphaned opossums, sleeping in the barn next to them for weeks. The girl who gave up her job in San Francisco for a poor cowboy. There’s no stopping her when her mind’s set.
It’s one of the things I love most about her. Yet it scares the hell out of me.
Worry roars, truck-like, through my blood. I rub a hand over my jaw, feel it tick. “Goddamn it, Bell.”
She was upset and angry when I left this afternoon, but the very least she could have done is left a note.
A scratching sound makes my ears prick. I hold my breath, listening for the source. When I hear it again, I storm to the door and yank it open.
Zelda, covered in snow, shoots past me, barking and yipping, leaving a trail of wet, skittery paw prints on the hardwood floor.
She whines, the sound insistent, panicked. The sinking feeling in my stomach plunges to my boots.
If Zelda was outside, she must have been with Bellamy. If Zelda’s back, and Bellamy’s not…
Fuck.
Terror grips me, the pressure in my chest so tight I can’t breathe.
I grab Zelda’s collar and tug her to me, crouching. “Show me where she is, girl.”
Zelda barks once, then, tail wagging, she yanks free of my hold and blasts through the open door.
With trembling hands, I pull on my jacket and gloves. Then I race out onto the front porch and into the snow.
She doesn’t stop. She’s already so far ahead. I hop on the snowmobile and gun it, catching up quickly.
The wind whips through the trees. Cold air bites at my skin. The air’s white, obscuring my vision. As angry as I am, I’m worried. Scared shitless. This wouldn’t have happened if I had helped her get a goddamn tree.
Now she’s what? Lost in the fucking forest in the dead of winter?
Christ.
I race through the trees, branches snagging at my clothes. With each minute that passes, more snow accumulates. Fear trickles into my gut. My thoughts run wild with regret.
Is she warm enough? Is she still pissed at me? I hope she’s pissed. Hope she went for a walk. Hope she’s wandering up to the cabin now, victorious with her tree. When I see her, I’ll gladly let her slap the ever-lovin’ shit out of me.
I race blindly through the wind and the snow, searching for Bellamy. I won’t stop until I find her.
I shouldn’t have left her. I should have stayed. Fought through it and fought it out.
The whirlwind of grim thoughts silences when Zelda leaps over a snow-covered log and plummets down the side of the steep cliff.
“No!” I shout.
But I go right after her. The snowmobile takes a sharp nosedive, but I lock the track with the brake and ride it down straight.
I stop the snowmobile on a flat spot of packed snow and scan the area. Nearby, evidence of a partial avalanche, the rapid flow of snow down the hillside. A cluster of trees lay on their sides.
Not just trees.
Bellamy.
My heartbeat ceases to exist.
I leap off the snowmobile and race for Zelda. She’s digging beside one of the fir trees, her movements frantic. On my knees beside her, I shove at the evergreen. Through the branches and bristles, a tuft of dark hair and the fuzzy pom of a hat. Terror holds me in its grip.
Please let her be okay. Please.
“Bellamy!” I shout. Adrenaline surges through my veins, my pulse roaring in my ears.
Ignoring the pain, the cold, I push my hands through the prickly tree branches, shoving them enough to expose Bellamy.
The sight of her closed eyes catches me by the throat. “Bell.” I cup her pale face. Fuck. She’s freezing. “Talk to me, sugar. Wake up.”
Her eyes flutter open. “Hank,” she croaks. Her voice, soft, pained, is the only thing holding me together.
“Are you hurt, baby?” I scan what I can see of her.
“N-n-no, I’m just s-s-stuck.” There’s a scrape on her cheek. Her lips are blue, her teeth chattering relentlessly. “I tried to g-get a-a t-tree, but—”
“Don’t worry about the tree.” I tug her hat lower onto her head, protecting her ears. “I’m gonna get you out of there.” Ducking, I get in her face, forcing her to focus on me. “Right now, okay?”
“Y-y-yes.”
I hate to move her, especially if she has serious injuries, but I don’t have much choice. She’s been out here too long.
Carefully, I shove the tree off her completely.
Her chest rises and falls with labored breaths.
I loop my arms beneath hers. “Hang on to me.” I haul her toward me, wrenching her free of the firm hold the crater of snow has on her.
Coughing and gasping, she clings to me. She’s soaked to the fucking bone, the damp and cold from her clothes sinking through mine.
I give a whistle, trusting Zelda to follow, then cradle Bellamy in my arms. Holding her to my chest, I push through the snow toward the snowmobile. I want to check her over right here and now, but it’s too cold. I have to be logical. It’s the only thing getting me from A to B without losing it.
Get Bell back to the cabin. Get her warm. Keep her safe. Fall apart later.
Her dark head lolls against my chest as I race back to the cabin. Uncontrolled shivers rack her body. I can’t tell if she’s conscious. Her breaths are ragged, but at least she’s breathing.
The snow falls harder. I break through the trees and come to a stop in front of the cabin.
Inside, I set her in a chair, lay her back, then get to work lighting the fire.
Once it’s going, all my attention is on Bellamy. “You need to get warm.” I pull her to her feet, unzip her thick parka and toss it unceremoniously on the floor. She shivers uncontrollably, her skin sickly pale.
“I’m-s-so-I’m sorry, H-H-Hank. I just wanted a tree.” Hands clutched to her chest, she lists to the side like she’ll fall over any second.
I grasp her upper arms, keep her upright. “I don’t care about a fuckin’ tree.”
I could have lost you, Bell. I could have lost everything that matters.
Her teeth chatter. “C-cold…”
“I know. Fuck, I know.” Making a decision, I reach for her wet clothes, suctioned-cupped to her body. “I’m gonna get you naked, sugar,” I warn.
She nods, eyes glazed. When her shirt lands with a plop on the floor, I go for her boots and pants. When she’s stripped down to her panties and bra, I grab the thermal blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over her slender shoulders, yanking it closed. Still, she shakes.
I swear, enraged by the stubborn chill that won’t leave her bones.
Fuck. Too cold. She’s still too cold. She needs more warmth.
“You need body heat,” I grit out.
Bellamy’s eyes go wide. “Y-yours?”
“Yes.”
Her weak nod is all the permission I need.
I strip down, adding my jeans and shirt to the pile on the floor. She stares at me, opens the blanket. I step into her, my fingertips pressing her shoulder blades, pressing her against me. Her skin’s still cold, but I hitch a breath as her perfect body settles around mine.
“Hank,” she whispers against my collarbone, her breath the only thing warm about her. Her slender body quakes as I mold mine to hers. The snowflakes in her hair melt against my skin. The swell of her breasts presses into my chest with every inhale.
I kiss her mess of chestnut hair. Inhale the scent of pine and crisp, clean snow. “You’re okay, baby. You’ll be okay.”
“I need this.” She snuggles closer.
I smooth my palm down her spine to rest at the small of her back.
Does she mean warmth or me? Either way, I won’t bother arguing with her.
“You have me.” I tuck her trembling body close.
She tilts her hips into mine, bringing us flush.
Christ. It’s all innocent, all in the name of keeping her warm, keeping her alive, keeping my own damn heart from stopping, and yet my cock jerks.
Bellamy’s hands spread over my bare stomach. A gentle, hesitant, searching touch that causes my muscles to tense. Then she’s sighing, sighing, her face in my chest. She adjusts her legs, wriggling them around my thigh, her heat soaking into me, the wetness gathering there obvious.
Fuck.
Desire, lust, love rockets through me. But I keep my cock in check. I need her safe. Need her warm.
She could have died out there. I could have lost her forever.
Flashes of that day in the hospital come back to me, and my stomach takes a nosedive.
Bellamy bleeding, the doctor’s warning: I could lose them both.
Hitting my knees in that waiting room, begging someone up there to hear me, to take me first. Pleading with them to not take my girl.
I close my eyes, fighting down the panic in my throat, and focus on the present.
On the woman in my arms. Bellamy. My bluebell.
Safe. Alive. Here.
“Bell.” Her name’s a ragged moan, falling from my mouth. My hands run up her cold arms.
She lifts her face, amber eyes watery beneath dark lashes.
Overcome, I lean in. I kiss the apples of her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her eyelashes. Anything that needs warmth, I’ll give it.
“Hank.”
It’s all we have the strength to say. Her name. My name. An oath. A beckoning.
She presses up on tiptoes, moving closer. There’s a shock of cold as her mouth meets my cheek, then warm, searing heat. The only thing hotter than the fire in the cabin is the fire between us.
I turn my head, our lips barely touching.
She pulls back a fraction. Looks at me like she can sense it. Everything I’ve been wanting to say all these years. Maybe she can.
A battle of wills blazes between us. I want to kiss her. But I don’t.
My hands itch to part the blanket and explore every inch of her beautiful body. It’s been three years since I’ve touched her, but it feels like a lifetime.
Instead, I pull her closer, my arms banded around her hips. Her heart thumps steadily against me as she warms. Her cheek pressed to my chest, resting over my heart. Her long lashes dark on the curve of her pale cheek. Eyes closed. She’s exhausted.
I move, gently, carefully, and she doesn’t protest.
We settle on the rug in front of the fire.
I tuck her fiercely against my chest, keeping her cocooned in the blanket, the curve of her ass nestled against my already-aching dick.
Her head falls back on my shoulder. Firelight dances across her pale face.
She stares up at me with dark, sleepy eyes and a smile.
“We’re on the ground.”
“We are.”
“I can’t move, Hank.” Her voice is rough and scratchy. A sexiness to it that I like.
I let out a shuddering exhale. “Good. That means you’re warm.”
“Thanks to you,” she says, her bottom lip quivering.
I trace her cheek with my thumb, dragging it down to the hollow of her delicate throat. “You’ll be okay, Bell.”
She nods, closing her eyes.
For a long second, silence. Then she sighs out, “I like your scruff, cowboy.”
“You do, huh?” I chuckle. There’s not a day Bellamy doesn’t surprise me.
“Yes,” she confesses, burrowing deeper into my lap. “It’s very handsome.”
A smirk ghosts my lips. “Hell, sugar, remind me to never shave again.”
“I can do that.”
Wriggling, she inches an arm out of the blanket and finds my hand. My heart hammers as she curls her slender fingers around mine.
“Thank you for coming for me,” she murmurs. “For finding me.”
I swallow the emotions that claw at my throat. “There’s not a chance in hell I’d let you go again.”
Bellamy mmms, a sweet, soft sound. She’s nodding off, the slow rise and fall of her chest signaling sleep is near.
My heart clenches. God, do I love her.
Zelda, content that we’re okay, circles her dog bed twice, then curls into a ball, head on her paws, eyes on us.
I look down at Bellamy’s sleeping face. Her lips, rosy and parted, push out slow, rhythmic breaths. My heart rate slows, matching hers, following the steady, calming beat.
I should move. Get her dressed, tear myself away from her. But I don’t. I can’t. Not when she’s tucked in my arms, fragile and soft.
So I allow myself this moment with her. Do what I should have done when we lost our baby.
I stay.
When I wake later, from a sleep so deep it feels like years have passed, my attention lands on the mantel.
On the stockings hanging above the fireplace.
I blow out a deep breath and run my fingertips over the delicate curve of Bellamy’s cheek. Together, like we’re meant to be.
A tiny flame of hope ignites inside me.
No more waiting. Tomorrow I’ll work up the courage to tell her everything.