Chapter 7
Edward
Ishould sleep. Close my eyes.
Penny's beautiful warmth is seeping into my skin where she’s curled against me, breathing softly against my chest. My arm tightens around her waist, pulling her closer as long blonde hair spills over my pillow.
I watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, the flicker of the dying fire reflected in the window while I keep my eyes open. Guarding this fragile peace that's somehow found it's way to me today.
Penny shifts, murmurs something soft and unintelligible in her sleep, and slowly, over the course of the next few hours, I feel myself drift off.
But just as sleep finally pulls me deeper, a low, distant groan snaps me awake like I'm back in the desert all over again.
My whole body locks tight. Instinct takes over.
A second later, sharp cracks split the cabin’s silence, the sound of timber straining under pressure.
I ease out from under Penny, careful not to jostle her. It doesn't work.
She stirs in my sheets and murmurs, “Edward? What was that?”
Her voice is thick with sleep, trusting me enough to protect her while she rested.
I remember the last time someone trusted me enough to do that.
And it didn't end well.
“Stay here,” I growl, sliding off the bed and yanking on my jeans.
The softness from a few hours ago is gone, stripped away by the storm and the old wounded soldier inside me. By the time Penny blinks fully awake, I’m halfway across the room, pulling on my boots, shrugging into my jacket.
The wind is wild now, howling, clawing, trying to rip this cabin apart board by board. Each creak, each groan of the walls drags old memories to the surface—bullets whining, wood splintering, explosions shaking the ground.
My pulse spikes like it always does at night, but I shove it down.
Not now. Not with her here.
Another crack echoes through the cabin. This one is louder… closer and it's followed by an even bigger crack.
"Fuck," I grunt, moving towards the sound of something giving way.
I cross to the front window but I can't see anything beyond the white chaos. It's a blur of snow and mother nature's rage pressing against the glass so hard the panes are now bowing inward.
This isn't good.
Behind me, I hear Penny scramble from the bed, bare feet hitting the floor.
“Edward?” she calls, voice laced with panic.
“Stay back!” I snap, eyes never leaving the window.
As if the vibration from my voice are the final thread, a crack races across the glass.
“Edward, move!” Penny screams, right as the window finally spiderwebs completely and gives in.
The glass explodes inward with a deafening crack, a wall of icy air slamming into me like a battering ram. Snow and shards of ice lash my skin.
I throw an arm up, bracing against the frame, planting my feet. Cold rips through me, cuts sting across my temple, but I don’t give ground.
I hear her cry out my name again, her voice breaking, but I don’t look back.
I can’t.
If I falter, if I move, she takes the hit. And I won't let that fucking happen.
I square myself against the blast, every muscle straining, until at last the initial surge of air ebbs to a furious howl.
The cabin is chaos—blankets whipping, papers scattering… shit going everywhere. The temperature drops in an instant, the air thick with pure Arctic mist. Penny shivers violently in the doorway, fear covering on her face.
“Stay back!” I bark again, louder this time. “Don’t come any closer!”
I drag a sleeve across the blood trickling from my temple, ignoring the sting. Penny's face is pale, but I'm not sure if it's fear or cold. Whatever it is, I don't like it. I need to do something.
My gaze sweeps the wreckage, cataloguing the damage, the next steps.
I turn back to the gaping hole in my cabin, soldier mode engaged. Lover, protector… it doesn’t matter what name she gives me.
Right now, my only job is ensuring her survival.
My chest seizes. Fuck. How could I have been so complacent? So… lost in her?
My military training, long buried under layers of trauma and self-imposed numbness, slams to the forefront. Threat identification. Damage assessment. Immediate action.
The window. Gone. A gaping hole.
The cabin, once my fortress, is now a wind tunnel, the temperature plummeting with terrifying speed. Loose snow is already piling up on the floor, the air tasting of ice and impending hypothermia.
This isn’t a fight I can win.
“Edward!” Penny’s voice, a thin thread of panic, barely reaches me over the storm.
I turn, my gaze sweeping the small space, searching for anything, a board, a blanket, anything to stem the tide. My eyes land on the fallen curtain rod, twisted and useless.
“Don’t move!” I shout again, forcing the words out through grit teeth.
My priority is her. Always her. Even if it kills me.
The chaos outside momentarily mirrors the chaos inside my head.
The screams of the wind morph into the screams of battle, the splintering wood into the crack of rifle fire. The cold, a familiar companion I remember all too well… it threatens to pull me into the icy grip of a flashback.
My hands clench, nails digging into my palms, trying to ground myself.
No. Not now. Not when she needs me.
My eyes fall on the large, heavy dining table, bolted to the floor, but large and sturdy. It’s an insane idea, even for me, but it’s the only thing big enough, heavy enough, to offer any significant barrier against the onslaught.
“Alright, Penny!” I yell, forcing my voice to project over the gale. “Listen to me! I'm gonna need your help!”
Her head snaps up, her eyes still wide with fear.
“What? What do you want me to do?”
“The table!” I point, my arm aching from the effort of fighting the wind. “We need to move the table against the window! It’s the only way to block it!”
Her gaze flies to the massive wooden table, then back to me, disbelief clear on her face. “Are you crazy? It’s huge! How can we d—”
“We don’t have a choice!” I cut her off, my voice sharp. “Unless you want to freeze to death! Now! Get over here!”
I lurch towards the table, my muscles screaming in protest.
It’s heavy, built for permanence, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins right now makes me feel almost superhuman.
I grab one end, digging my heels in, grunting with effort. The wood scrapes against the floor, a terrible, resisting groan.
Penny, bless her stubborn, sunshine-fueled heart, doesn’t hesitate.
She scrambles across the freezing floor, dodging flying snow, and puts her shoulder to the opposite end of the table.
“Okay!” she yells, her voice strained. “On three? One… two… THREE!”
We push. It’s an agonizing, slow-motion battle against mass and the unyielding force of the storm. The table scoots inches at a time, each movement a Herculean effort.
My vision grays at the edges, my head swimming from the cut and the exertion. The wind howls, snatching at our clothes, turning the air into a biting, icy whip.
“Again!” I gasp, my lungs burning, my muscles screaming. “Push! Use your legs, sunshine! Use your legs!”
She pushes, her face twisted with effort, her small body trembling. Her hair whips around her face, plastered with fresh snow.
But she doesn’t give up.
Her sheer will, always bright and somehow always unwavering, is a beacon in the storm.
Finally, inch by agonizing inch, we shove the table until it’s flush against the gaping hole, acting as a crude but surprisingly effective barrier.
The immediate blast of wind is cut off, replaced by the muffled roar against the wood. It’s not perfect. Cold air still sifts through the gaps, but it’s a vast improvement.
I slump against the table, gasping for breath, my vision blurring. The sudden silence, even partial, is deafening. My head spins, and a wave of nausea washes over me.
“Edward? Are you okay?” Penny’s voice is laced with concern.
I nod, trying to steady my breathing. “Yeah. Just… give me a sec.”
She grabs one of the heavy woolen blankets from the bedroom and starts stuffing it into the larger gaps around the table’s edges, trying to insulate it further.
Her teeth are chattering, her skin visibly goose-pimpled, but she works with a focused determination that both surprises and humbles me.
“We need more blankets,” she says, her voice a little shaky. “Or maybe some of those old rags on your bench. Anything to seal it up.”
I push myself upright, shaking off the lingering dizziness. She’s right. I need to help, not sit on my ass feeling sorry for myself.
I point towards the back of the cabin. “There are some tarps in the corner too. And some tools to help seal it better. ”
She follows my gaze, then gives me a quick, assessing look. I can see the fear still lingering in her eyes, but it’s tempered by a newfound steel, a quiet resilience I hadn’t noticed before.
This woman… she’s more than sunshine and sketches.
She’s fire.
And it's fucking hot.
“Alright,” she says, nodding decisively. “I’ll get them. You… you should sit down. My God, Edward, your head!”
She points to my temple, and I reach up to where the pain is literally pulsing against my skull.
Shit. My fingers come away dripping with blood.
“I’m fine,” I grunt, wiping the blood on my jeans.
She gives me a disbelieving look, then dashes to the workshop area anyway.
I hear the rustle of tarps, the clink of metal tools. She’s surprisingly agile.
I watch her, my mind still reeling from the sudden shift in our reality. One moment, we were lost in each other, in the blissful oblivion of touch and desire.
The next, a violent intrusion, a brutal fucking reminder of the harsh world outside, and the harsh realities of my own existence.
My PTSD, usually a slow, creeping horror, had flared like a wildfire, but for the first time, it hadn’t crippled me.
Penny. It was always her.
Her face, her vulnerability, her utter dependence on me. She had been my anchor, pulling me back from the brink.
She reappears, arms laden with a thick, heavy tarp and a roll of duct tape.
“Good idea. This should work,” she huffs, dropping them to the floor.