Chapter 3
THREE
NOAH
It doesn’t take long for me to realise there’s something wrong.
My chest tightens with rising panic, something I haven’t felt since the fire. I slow to a crawl as I inch along the winding road that most of us mountain dwellers take to our cabins. The snow up here is thick, heavy, and coming straight off the mountain itself.
At first glance, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything out of place.
The road is usually a lot busier in the summer and autumn months, since it’s also one of the few entry points up to the trails.
But it’s rarely used in winter except by those of us living here.
Some locals tend to take it when desperate, but even then, they’re a lot more cautious about the passage.
So, what the fuck is going on up here?
I slow as I approach the bend where my private road up to the cabin lies, something in my heart screaming at me to stay alert. Maybe it’s the saviour complex coming out in full; the firefighter in me still likes to play hero, even if there is no longer a hero living within me.
The truck halts as I slam my breaks. The white flurry of snow barely obscures the dark smoke rising from the body of a baby-blue truck wrapped around the base of a large pine.
My heart stops, and I’m moving before I realise what I’m doing. I would know that truck anywhere.
It doesn’t take me long to wrench the door open, finding her lying unconscious, already bruising from the impact. I pull a pocketknife from my pocket, slice through her seatbelt, and as gently as I can without a neck brace, I pull her out.
Sophia, sweet, gentle, Sophia. Cooper’s sister. The woman who nursed me back to life—who gave me a reason to live.
I feel myself spiralling into a panic, though it’s not as bad as the harsh reality slamming into me.
Reality that I need to save her. Protect her. Except we’re all but trapped up here.
Sophia makes a sound as I set her into my truck, but she doesn’t do anything else.
I’ll do anything to help her. Doesn’t matter how.
Least I can fucking do after she saved me.
“Fuck.” I slam my satellite phone down onto the dresser, listening to the radio static taunt me. It hits the corner before bouncing off the wood and onto the floor, the entire back of the device crunching with the impact. Fuck. I broke the damn thing, not like it was working properly to begin with.
Now, our only way of communication is dead. I scrub a hand over my face, the static suddenly cutting off.
When I glance over at the bed, I find her watching me, eyes glassy, the bruises beneath them too vivid a colour against her normally pink skin. Dark hair hangs limply around her face, a face that had been burned into my memory since the fire.
The nurse who gave me strength during the worst year of my life. The woman who sat with me when no one else could, who went with me initially to the larger hospital in Denver and stayed those first few days while I recovered in the burns unit.
My friend’s little sister, the brightest star in the storms of my mind, the only person whose smile could pull me out of the fog my depression drags me through.
“You’re awake,” I say, stupidly, as her eyes—brown, like the wood of the cabin and the forest surrounding us—rake over me.
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. Instead, her eyes flutter shut, like she’s about to pass out again.
I move to her side immediately. I’m not a doctor, but I’d spent enough time with the paramedics at the firehouse to know I can’t let her fall asleep again, not when she could have a concussion.
I don’t even know the extent of her injuries yet, other than her bruised nose, eyes, and swollen wrist. I need her awake—fuck, I need her to be okay.
“Sophia, I need you to stay with me,” I say as I kneel beside the bed, ignoring the pain in my side where the healed skin from my burns pull tight in protest. “I need you to tell me where the pain is.”
She gasps, eyes opening again. Her chest rises and falls with each laboured breath she pulls in. My own chest tightens. That can’t be good, but what the fuck do I know?
I should have taken her to the hospital. I should have tried harder. But the storm had picked up. I’m not reckless, not like how I used to be. Being reckless destroyed me, and I won’t let that happen to her.
Her eyes finally find mine, not glassy or unseeing. They look clearer than they had before, and her breathing finally eases into a less laboured pattern. “What—the crash?” she asks hoarsely.
I reach for a bottle of water on the nightstand, uncap it, and hold it up to her lips. She eyes me warily before drinking slowly.
After a moment, she pulls away and turns her head, eyes closing. Her hand—the one undamaged—grips the sheets. “How long have I been out?” she asks carefully, her voice steadier.
I clear my throat. “A couple of hours,” I reply. “I couldn’t take you to the hospital, and I tried getting word out to your brother.”
She shudders before finally looking at me. “Thanks for finding me. For helping.” Tears build in the corners of her eyes, and without meaning to, I gently wipe them away before they can fall.
My heart clenches tightly in my chest; I pull my hand back before I can do anything else.
Sophia, even with her bruised eyes, swollen nose, and messy hair, is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I’d care for her—as best I can with the conditions—then I’d have to get her to the hospital, but could I say goodbye now that I finally had her here with me?
Since I was released, I never had the courage to thank her for all she did, for how much time she spent at my bedside, promising I’d get better. For her, I did. And I will make sure I help her now, repay her kindness, and find a way to keep her.
But would she want a beast like me?
Despite the smell of smoke that clings to her hair from the crash, she still smells sweet, like vanilla and strawberry, and it takes me back to the long nights she spent by my bedside.
The smell of her hair and body had been the only thing to wash away the scent of burnt skin, and even now, I breathe it in like I’m drowning, and she’s the fresh air I need to survive.
The last hour was spent getting a good idea of her injuries. Tensions are still high, though I don’t expect anything else. Especially because she’s in a whole lot of pain—and no one knows where she is. There’s no cell reception, it went out yesterday, and our only means of communication is fucked.
I gather a pair of sweatpants and a lightweight t-shirt for her to wear, as well as another sweater if she’s cold, and lay them out on the floor outside the bathroom door. I listen for a long moment as the water starts.
I check the fire in the hearth, then go to work preparing Sophia a meal.
The kitchen is the only space that hasn’t been renovated yet, but it functions well enough.
The plan had been to start working on remodelling during the storm, but with Sophia trapped here on the mountain with me, I won’t be able to commit to the project.
While she showers, I prepare a quick meal of canned tomato soup and grilled cheese—one of the few things I’m decently good at making. Cap would be proud to know I can at least use a stove now.
I stop stirring the soup, still gripping the spoon.
My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe.
But almost as soon as it hits me, the pressure releases with the opening of the bathroom door.
I hear her footsteps, soft and hesitant in the hallway.
As she rounds the corner, I drop the spoon on the counter.
“Smells great in here,” Sophia says, walking up beside me. I suck in a breath and release it slowly. “Thank you for the clothes.”
I nod stiffly, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. She’s still bruised, but there’s some colour back in her cheeks and her eyes are brighter. I almost consider picking her up and carrying her back to my bed. She’s still wobbly on her feet, gripping the edge of the counter tightly.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, moving gently to wrap an arm around her as she wavers. A soft gasp leaves her lips, and her wide eyes meet mine.
“F-fine,” she stutters, though she rests her hand atop mine. “Pain is a little more bearable, but I’m feeling it now. Not sure if I’ve got a concussion or not.”
“I have aspirin—”
She shakes her head, wincing. “No, not until at least twenty-four hours have passed.”
“Right.” I know that. It was drilled into us early into our training, but I hate the idea of her being in pain. “Let’s get you seated, then. We don’t need you passing out.”
She gives me a weak smile, and I have to stop myself from picking her up and carrying her to the living room.
Instead, I keep my arm around her midsection and guide her to the small table in the corner of the kitchen; it sits beneath a large bay window overlooking the forest, though because of the storm, it’s covered.
“The cabin is beautiful,” Sophia says. She takes her seat, and I return to the soup, dishing it up as she talks. “I remember when Cooper said you bought it. Called you crazy for wanting to fix it up.”
I grunt. “Yeah, well, he’s probably still pissed he missed out on such a great piece of land.”
Sophia’s soft laughter fills the kitchen as I bring her one of the bowls of soup, as well as a finished grilled cheese. Her eyes shine as she watches me, and the smile she offers is enough to brighten the room. “I can’t imagine him living up here on the mountain. It’s too far from the bar.”
She takes the soup and grilled cheese, eyes never leaving mine. I feel the weight of her stare on me as I return to the kitchen to get her a glass of orange juice, though I suddenly wished I had more to offer her.
“Cooper would never survive up here,” I finally manage, turning back to her.
“No, he really wouldn’t,” she murmurs, taking a small bite of the tomato-soup covered grilled cheese. “This tastes great, thank you, Noah.”
I watch her chew for a long moment before turning to grab my own bowl. My stomach twists from hunger, but not for food. No, I want Sophia, need her, but I know she’s off limits. Not only would she never be interested in a scarred man like me, but she’s also Cooper’s sister.
Cooper, who was once one of my closest friends. We’d spent more time together at the firehouse than a married couple—we all had.
I feel the burn of her gaze as I return to the table. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you to the hospital. It would be a hell of a lot better than being stuck here.”
She swallows a mouthful of soup before saying, “Has the storm hit?”
I nod. “Yeah. We’re trapped until the storm passes and the roads clear a bit.” As if to punctuate that point, wind howls through the trees and the shutters on the window beside us rattle. “We’ll be here a few days at best.”
Sophia makes a sound in the back of her throat, eyes straying to her wrist. “I may need to make a splint for this. It could be broken, I’m not sure. I don’t think it is.”
I reach across the table and gingerly take her hand. “It doesn’t feel broken. And the swelling has gone down since I wrapped it.”
“I don’t think I have any other injuries,” she says as she trails her fingertips over my hand. “My nose isn’t broken, but I’ll have some serious bruising over the next few days. I have some bruises along my chest from the seatbelt, too, but they aren’t bad.”
My eyes stray to her chest, then up to her face. Her eyes are already locked on mine, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. It takes a lot to not leap across this table and pull that lip into my own mouth, to taste her and drink her in completely.
Instead, I sit back, pulling my hand free from hers. “After you eat, you should ice your wrist. Just to keep the swelling down until we can get you to the hospital.”
Her lip is released as she nods. “Yeah. Right. That would be great.” She clears her throat, before taking another sip of the soup. “So, tell me about the cabin and living on the mountain.”
“I don’t want to bore you.”
“I want to hear about it. Promise. I’ve met a couple of the other guys who live up here, and I think it’s so fascinating.”
I stiffen at the mention of the other men. There are a dozen or so who live up here, isolated from the rest of the world. My land backs on to another’s, who recently started working on an extension to his cabin to accommodate his new wife.
During the long day waiting for her to wake up, I’d wondered what it would be like to have Sophia here, living in the cabin with me. What she would need in order to stay.
I look away from her expectant face and twirl my spoon around my soup.
“Well, it was only meant to be a passion project. I wasn’t sure if I was going to live up here, it wasn’t really the plan.
..before, but after—” My throat tightens, and I pause.
Sophia’s eyes soften, and she takes my hand in hers.
“—After being released, I decided being up here would be best for me.”
“I can understand why. The snow must make it difficult, though.”
I shrug and try to ignore the warmth from her hand, and the way it makes my heart race. “I’ve enjoyed the escape from town. The quiet has been good.”
“So, I guess I’ve kind of ruined that, then,” she laughs, though the sound is stiff, not the bright one I heard earlier.
“No, you haven’t,” I replied, shaking my head. “If I had my way, I’d keep you here and never let you go.”