Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Snow fell steadily as Waylon guided the truck to Bear and Ellie’s cabin, tires crunching over fresh powder. Beside him, Frankie had kicked off her boots and tucked her feet up beneath her. She looked warm and comfortable as she slept, with Snoopy flopped across her lap like a furry little hot water bottle. The windshield wipers thumped in rhythm to the soft eighties music coming from the mixtape playing on Dan’s boombox. Frankie insisted on bringing it and that was more than fine with Waylon.
The road was still new, seeing its second winter. Bear had had it paved over from a gravel forest road—not because he was fond of leaving the cabin, but because Ellie had wanted her friends to have an easier time getting to the cabin and for her to get to town. When it came to Bear, Ellie always won. Waylon had always chuckled at his brother’s deference to the tiny woman. He didn’t understand the easy power she had over him.
Not until he’d met Frankie.
Long driveways branched off from the road, one of them being Gina and Lachlan’s. They’d bought their house last year, and now lived about three miles from Bear and Ellie as the crow flies. The road narrowed down into a lane that ended at a wide apron where a dozen vehicles could park. A short walk through an aspen grove would bring you to the cabin.
Waylon parked his truck in the center of the apron. Bear hadn’t gotten around to hiring a crew to build a garage over the apron yet. Waylon knew it was on his never ending honey-do list though and that he would’ve started on it if he’d known Ellie would become pregnant so soon after they got married.
Frankie stirred and stretched. She’d fallen asleep almost before Waylon had pulled out of the apartment’s parking lot and slept the whole way up. Waylon was glad about that. She’d slept fitfully both nights since Derek’s attack two days ago and practically sleepwalked all day. It had affected her appetite, too. Waylon hoped she’d relax enough at the cabin that they could forget about Derek, and he could stuff her full of cookies and popcorn and hot chocolate.
“Are we here?” she asked as she yawned.
“Yup. Rise and shine.”
She searched through the windshield. “I don’t see the cabin.”
“It’s just through the trees. You’ll see.”
Frankie opened her door and Snoopy launched himself into the snow with joyful abandon, barking at absolutely nothing and plowing a zigzag path through the powder.
Waylon stepped around the truck, then helped Frankie down carefully. “Easy there, Pix. Might be ice under the snow.”
“I’m fine,” she said, but leaned into him anyway, her fingers curling into his jacket.
As soon as she was down, he grabbed their bags out of the back seat—just a couple for the weekend, though Frankie had insisted on bringing enough leftover cookies, books, and thick socks to last through an arctic expedition. Waylon whistled and Snoopy came charging back to them dragging his leash behind, his nose white with snow.
They started down the path, Frankie’s hand in the crook of his arm to keep herself steady. As the trees opened up ahead, the cabin came into view like a snow globe—tall evergreens, smoke curling from the chimney, soft golden light glowing through the windows. The porch light flicked on as they walked up. The front door opened and Bear stepped out, holding a coffee mug the size of Waylon’s head.
He grinned. “You made it.”
Ellie appeared behind Bear. “Come in, come in! It’s warm inside. And I made cinnamon rolls!”
Waylon’s stomach rumbled.
Frankie gave him a look. “You’re so easy, Beefcake.”
“I’m food motivated. You knew this.”
Frankie took one look at the inside of the cabin and said, “This is heaven.”
Ellie gave a pleased little hum. “Bear did a great job fixing it up. He restored the old stone fireplace and the original floorboards.”
“Old floors creak,” Bear rumbled. “Good for hearing people sneak around.”
Looking exasperated, Ellie smiled, shaking her head. “Because I drew the line at inside cameras. I grew up being watched like a hawk by my father and my brothers. Even if we used inside cameras only when we’re away, they would still feel like eyes on me.”
Frankie gripped Ellie’s hand. “I don’t know everything you went through, but you don’t need to explain or even think about it.”
Ellie gave her a beaming smile. “It’s all right. It’s over. I have a new life, with an overprotective husband who would tear the world apart to keep me safe. Another reason we don’t need inside cameras.”
The cabin was as cozy as always, Waylon thought. It was tiny, from the early pioneer days, but Bear had added a full wing to it that tripled the size, with plans to build more. They were standing in the oldest part of the cabin—one room with an open kitchen along the back wall. To the right was the stone fireplace, now fitted with a wood stove, flames flickering behind glass. The cabin’s windows were framed by snow-dusted pine boughs, and that same beat-up leather couch Bear had insisted on moving in by himself looked inviting.
As Frankie plopped down on said couch to peel off her outer layers, Waylon took a second to really look at her again. There were shadows under her eyes. She was smiling, relaxed—but he could still see the tension in her shoulders. Like she hadn’t really let herself breathe since the attack.
He exhaled slowly as he sat beside her. I’ll fix that this weekend .
They’d have this place to themselves. Snow outside, fire inside. Just them.
Ellie went behind the island separating the kitchen from the rest of the room. She started to open the oven door when Bear swooped in with an Ellie-sized oven mitt stretched over his hand. Waylon would never get over how fast his brother could move, considering his size.
“Honey, don’t,” he told her as he pulled out a baking sheet of cinnamon rolls. “You go sit down with Frankie.”
“I’m going to be sitting in a car, then in an airport, then on a plane, then in another car all day tomorrow, Bear. I gotta get all my moving done today.” She started to pick up a tray loaded with a stack of small plates and four mugs.
“No.” Bear reached past her and picked up the tray with one hand. He still held the baking sheet in the other.
Ellie put her hands on her hips. “So bossy.”
“Honey.” He jutted his chin toward the couch. Ellie rolled her eyes and went to sit beside Frankie. Bear followed her. Ellie sat down on the couch and gave her small baby bump a pat. Waylon grabbed two mugs off the tray and passed them to the women, then took one for himself. They each took a plate and a cinnamon roll. Bear sat down in a big chair flanking the couch.
Waylon inhaled. “Smells amazing.”
“Thank you,” Ellie said. “I had to sneak out of bed early to make them.” She eyed Bear who was nibbling on the edge of a cinnamon roll. It looked like a mini bun in his massive hand.
Before he could reply, Ellie’s eyes went round and she leaned back. “Oh, that was a big kick, little girl.”
Bear demonstrated his agility again when he practically materialized on his knees at her feet. He reached out to her belly .
Ellie grinned. “You don’t have to act like I’m about to birth her on the couch. I’m only around twenty weeks.”
“Just sayin’ hi,” Bear said, laying his huge hand gently over the fabric of her dress. “She always kicks harder when I talk to her.”
Waylon arched a brow. “She’s already got your attitude.”
Bear ignored him. “Hey there, little star,” he said to Ellie’s belly. “Be good for mama, now. Let her rest on the flight.”
Ellie and Bear both jumped when she kicked again.
Frankie leaned closer, smiling. “Does she always do that when you talk to her?”
“Pretty much,” Ellie said. “It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even watch those nature documentaries he loves—soon as Bear starts narrating, she thinks it’s showtime.”
“She likes to know I’m nearby,” Bear murmured, still focused entirely on Ellie’s belly.
The air shifted and Waylon felt something tug in his chest. Not jealousy—Bear had earned this peace. He’d carved it out with his bare hands and his whole heart. But seeing it laid out so plainly—the love, the promise of new life, the kind of future you could build around—Waylon couldn’t help but ache for it.
Even if he’d never get to have it that way.
He didn’t know if Frankie could carry a child. Hell, she didn’t know. The doctors had warned her not to hope, and she hadn’t—not in the desperate, holding-her-breath kind of way. She’d said she was okay with however life shook out. If she became someone’s auntie, someone’s safe place, that would be enough.
She meant it.
But still … Waylon felt that ache anyway. For her. For all she’d lost before she could even choose it.
Frankie caught his gaze and gave him a quiet smile, soft and knowing, like she’d felt that same shift in the air. She reached for his hand and laced their fingers together.
And just like that, the ache in his chest settled.
All he cared about was that Frankie looked like she could breathe again.
He wrapped his arm around her and held her close.
Gina, Lachlan, and their dogs arrived a little after four. A chime rang from somewhere and Bear took out his phone. He showed Waylon and Frankie the screen, and they watched as their SUV came to a stop beside the truck.
“Chime means something tripped the sensor across the drive,” Bear explained.
“I still need to show you how everything works,” Ellie said as she stood up from the couch. “But it’s been so nice just sitting here talking.”
Bear opened the door before they could knock. Fleur stood at Gina’s side, attentive as a sentry. Lachlan held a pie carrier that smelled like apple and cinnamon and a bottle of whisky. Sam was beside him. The older dog’s nose twitched as he stared at the pie carrier.
“Just dropping this off in case you run out of food,” Gina said.
“As if,” Ellie huffed, pretending to be offended. She pulled Gina into a hug.
Frankie laughed as she took the pie from Lachlan. “Arden loaded us up with enough left over cookies and snacks to feed twenty people.”
“What about booze?” Lachlan asked in his faint Scottish lilt. “We brought backup.” He lifted the bottle.
“I’ll take that.” Waylon lifted the bottle out of Lach’s hand and carried it to the kitchen island. “We’ll use it strictly for medicinal purposes.”
“In that case, I feel a cold coming on,” Lach said. “It goes well in hot cider or with honey and lemon.”
“I still have a whole pot full of cider on the stove,” Ellie said. “I won’t be having any of the medicine with mine, for obvious reasons.” She patted her belly.
Waylon picked up the whisky. “Five spiked ciders?”
“Plain for me,” Frankie said. “I’m going to keep Ellie company on the wagon,”
“That’s sweet, but you don’t have to.” Ellie patted her arm.
“I’m not really in the mood for alcohol anyway,” Frankie said. “I’ll go right to sleep.”
Waylon fixed their drinks and the five of them settled into the living room. The dogs snoozed in a pile of paws and fur on the rug in front of the fireplace.
Waylon leaned back into the corner of the couch, letting the warmth of his cider sink into his bones while his gaze drifted to Frankie. She was curled up next to him, smiling, holding her cup of cider with both hands as she listened to the others talk. Still too pale. Still too much worry creasing the corners of her eyes.
But looking better every minute.
Gina and Lachlan talked on the couch while Ellie led Frankie and Waylon throughout the cabin, pointing out which light switches controlled what, where the extra blankets were, how to keep the fire going overnight. “If the power goes out, the generator’s out back. It kicks on automatically, but if it doesn’t, the manual start’s on the kitchen wall.”
Then it was Bear’s turn to take them around outside and introduce them to the animals as he fed and watered them. Snoopy insisted on coming along. The chicken’s feathers made him sneeze. He wasn’t sure what to make of the goats. But what intrigued him the most was a corner under the porch where Spot was hibernating.
“Oh dear,” Frankie said. “We’re going to have to keep an eye on him out here.”
Back inside, Lach and Gina gave Frankie their phone numbers in case the storm outside worsened, as had been predicted for Friday afternoon and through the weekend. As they left, Gina pulled Frankie into a hug. Her golden eyes locked onto Frankie’s .
“You have our numbers. If anything feels off, you call us. No hesitation. We’re close by and we have snowmobiles.”
“Promise,” Frankie said. “Though I’d hate to put you out.”
“My lass here is bored,” Lach teased as he wrapped his arm around Gina. “She needs something to keep her out of trouble.”
“I’m retired,” Gina said with a grin.
“Aye, keep telling yourself that.” Lach kissed her auburn hair.
Waylon stood on the porch with Frankie, Ellie, and Bear, watching them go. He wrapped his arms around Frankie from behind. She tucked her back against his chest.
The snow picked up again as dusk settled over the cabin.
The fire was going, the room warm and dim with the kind of pinkish glow that only happened right before sunrise. The coffee pot gurgled softly on the counter as steam curled from two mugs on the kitchen island. Outside, snow fell slow and steady, already dusting the porch in white. The animals had been taken care of and it was good to be back inside.
Frankie yawned behind her hand as Ellie rattled off one last set of instructions.
“There’s extra TP in the pantry. The fresh eggs on the counter don’t need to be refrigerated. But you probably knew that already. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t let Spot follow you inside.”
Frankie blinked. “Oh, no. Did Snoopy wake him up?”
“Probably not, but he gets curious when new people or animals are around.”
A soft chime sounded. Bear glanced at his phone. “That’s him.”
Frankie frowned. “You aren’t taking your truck?”
Bear cleared his throat. “No. We have a… hired car.”
Waylon nearly choked on his coffee, laughing. “A hired car, huh? Which driver did the family send today—Bernardo or Rupert?”
Bear shot him a look. “Shut up. ”
Waylon grinned as he grabbed one of the suitcases and followed Bear toward the door. “Yes, Young Jonathan, ” he stage-whispered, loud enough that Frankie could hear. Bear growled back.
A sleek black Mercedes-Benz S-Class idled beside Waylon’s truck, snow lightly dusting the roof. A uniformed driver stepped out and opened the rear door.
“Good morning, Ms. Ellie. Young Jonathan.” His clipped voice sounded faintly British.
“Mornin’, Rupert,” Bear said.
Frankie’s jaw dropped.
Waylon whispered, “Bear’s family is loaded. Old money. Like, real old. The cabin renovations? Paid for in cash. Drop in the bucket.” He grinned. “Bear is loaded for bear.”
Bear gave him a long-suffering sigh as he helped Ellie into the car.
The driver tipped his cap and closed the door. A moment later, the Benz glided down the snowy road and disappeared into the trees.
Frankie stared after it. “That was worth getting up for.” She grinned at Waylon. “But I’m going back to bed.”
“I’ll tuck you in.” He winked.
They walked back to the cabin hand in hand. A faint, rosy glow tinged the clouds to the east before the sun disappeared into them.
“Red sky at morning…” Frankie said.
Waylon wrapped his arm around her. “Sailors take warning.”
Yep . Snow was coming. A lot of it.