Chapter 3 #2
She wanted to say something, but the words stuck. Instead, she just nodded toward the supplies. “You’ve got good gear.”
“Thanks,” he said quietly, then went back to sorting through his bins.
“I’ve got a few things,” Joe said. “I brought a box of granola bars, thinking I might be hungry after the run.”
“Good. That’ll help.”
Joe’s comment highlighted the difference between someone who had only what was needed and someone who was prepared for anything, because anything was what his life had become.
“This is good,” she said, forcing herself to focus on the practical. “Between Nick’s gear and what the rest of us brought, we can ride this out comfortably.”
Even with her suggestion of helping so they’d only need to make one trip, the amount of things Nick offered meant all three of them made two trips to get everything inside. After they had the things of Nick’s they needed, they grabbed the items from Joe’s truck.
“Are those coffee cups from this morning?” Nick asked, pointing to the two cups in the front holders.
“Yep, got them on our way out of town.”
“Bring ’em,” Nick said. “I only have two coffee mugs. We can reuse those.”
Joe made a face but complied, taking his cup. Gina grabbed hers and then retrieved Kelsey’s from the back seat cup holder, careful to keep them separate.
The wind died down just enough to allow them to get back inside the hotel fairly easily. Brooke and Kelsey were in the hallway, looking over the bins they’d dropped from Nick’s car.
“Lots of good stuff,” Kelsey said. “We should move to the room over there. There’s more space.”
Brooke shook her head. “I hate this building. I’m staying near the door in case I need to get out.”
Gina closed her eyes and shook her head. She knew Brooke was being silly, but she also knew her friend believed the rumors of the hotel and other buildings in Bearwater being haunted.
“You don’t really believe it’s haunted, do you?” Kelsey’s tone held a note of teasing.
“All I know,” Brooke said, forcing calmness into her voice, “is that these buildings make me feel sick to my stomach. Every single time I’ve been here.”
“Then why pick this place for your training run?” Kelsey asked.
“Outside is fine. It’s inside the buildings I have a problem with,” Brooke insisted. “We shouldn’t be in here. We should just get in the cars and go.”
Gina didn’t have the energy to explain again why they couldn’t leave. Besides, Brooke knew. She understood what the road out of there would be like just as well as Gina did.
Why her friend was acting this way was a mystery, but she didn’t like it. This wasn’t the Brooke she knew—the dedicated business owner and athlete. This was something strange and completely unlike her friend.
“Can we at least find someplace to organize our things?” Joe asked, dipping his chin to the load he was still holding.
“There’s a counter just inside the room.” Kelsey pointed to an open doorway. “I did a little exploring while you were out at the trucks. This place is amazing.”
Brooke scoffed. “Hardly.”
They spread their combined supplies out on the countertop and the floor, with Nick’s contributions dominating the space.
“You’re like a one-man REI,” Joe said admiringly.
Nick sank onto one of the rickety chairs left behind at some time in the past, shrugged, and began loosening the laces of his running shoes to swap them for work boots. “You learn to be prepared when you can’t count on having a fixed base.”
There it was again. That casual reference to his unsettled life, delivered without shame or apology. Gina watched him as he bent to untie his shoes—the quiet precision in each motion, the way he always seemed to know what was needed before anyone said a word.
Her experience screamed that people who lived this way were running from something, avoiding responsibility, and would be unreliable when things got difficult.
But here he was, organizing their shelter with the kind of efficiency that came from actually doing hard things, not just talking about them. No complaints, no excuses, no need for recognition.
The disconnect between what she expected and what she was seeing created a kind of cognitive friction she couldn’t resolve.
A gust of wind rattled the building.
“Storm’s getting worse,” Brooke said from the hallway, still examining her watch. “We’re going to be stuck here for hours. My training day is completely shot.”
“Your training plan can survive one partial workout,” Gina said in a tender voice. “We still got in a nice run along the bottom and a decent climb before the storm started.”
“You don’t understand,” Brooke replied. “I failed last year. I dropped at the Rendevous aid station, and everyone said I just wasn’t tough enough. If I don’t hit every single training benchmark this year, I’ll fail again. I can’t fail again.”
The desperation in her friend’s voice was alarming. This went far beyond normal pre-race nerves. Brooke was spiraling, and the enforced delay was making it worse.
“Nobody said you weren’t tough enough,” Gina said firmly.
Not exactly a lie. It was true Brooke’s dad and brother had made comments about her dropping, but most people were impressed she’d managed forty-eight grueling miles up the side of a mountain.
Rendevous Aid Station was the turnaround point for the hundred milers. Brooke hadn’t exactly dropped so much as missed the cutoff. She was still pushing as hard as she could, trying to make it in, but arrived four minutes too late.
The cutoffs were what got most people, and honestly, they were the reason Gina never signed up for the long-distance races.
Too much pressure. She was willing to do short 5K races, especially if they were advertised as fun runs or a fundraiser for a cause she believed in, but she had enough pressure at the hospital and with search and rescue, and she didn’t need that kind of pressure in her leisure activities.
Brooke continued on as if Gina hadn’t even spoken.
“They didn’t have to say it.” Brooke’s laugh held no humor. “DNF speaks for itself. Did Not Finish. Couldn’t hack it.”
“Why are these so tight?” Kelsey asked, still standing at the boarded window. “We can barely see out.”
“Probably a good thing,” Joe replied as he leaned against the wall, his stance finally admitting how much the altitude and exertion had taken out of him. “If it wasn’t closed up, it’d be even colder in here.”
With his boots laced, Nick stood. “I’m going to start setting things up. I know Brooke has her reasons for wanting to stay out here in the hallway, but I think we’d be better off moving into this room.” He motioned to a large space off the hallway. “Looks like it used to be the dining hall.”
“Probably a good idea,” Gina agreed.
Nick started setting up their camp with the kind of know-how that came from doing this often. Too often, probably.
Gina watched him work . . . dark hair, strong build, and the kind of shoulders that came from years of actual labor.
He looked up from his work and caught her staring. Their eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, everything else—the wind, cold, Brooke’s muttering—fell away. He didn’t look away. Didn’t hide. Just waited, like he wanted her to really see him.
Gina broke the connection first, turning to check on Joe’s color and breathing—safer territory. Medical assessments she could handle. Whatever was happening between her and Nick, that was dangerous ground.
The wind howled around the old building, rattling windows and finding every gap in the structure. Outside, the world had disappeared into a white void of driving snow. They weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
“Looks like we’re here for the duration,” Nick said quietly, echoing her thoughts.
Gina nodded, the contradiction between her experience and reality still unresolved. For now, she’d focus on getting everyone through this safely.
Safe had always been her goal. But standing there, storm howling outside and Nick a few feet away, she wasn’t sure safe was what she wanted anymore.