Page 59 of Fight
Wind howls outside as we crouch around the crackling fire. After he cleaned up my forehead, Cal used some of our water supply to wash the matted clumps of dirt and blood from my hair, which was oddly sweet, considering his displeased demeanor toward me. I comb my fingers through the strands as an orange glow from the stove flickers on the walls. We’ve been sitting in silence for probably twenty minutes. He grabs his bag and locates his phone.
“You have service this high up?” I ask.
“You usually do at the top…” He walks around the small space. “I’m not getting anything in here though.”
His fingers swipe across the screen.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Writing a text, hoping if I go out on the catwalk, I’ll get a bar or two, enough for it to send.”
“Did you tell anybody where you were going?”
He doesn’t respond as he taps out a message, and it soon becomes apparent he’s not going to. I told no one either. My gaze returns to the flames in front of me. My core temp is finally coming up, and I’ll never take warmth for granted again. I don’tcare that I’m stranded at the top of a mountain with the man who hates me. He may have crushed my weak heart, but he’s also the reason it’s still beating.
With my eyes fixed on the fire, he shoves his newly heated feet back into his boots and shrugs on his coat, the snow that clung to it when he walked in is now nothing more than beads of water. He opens the door and steps out quickly. The cold air rushes in and quickly settles.
We’re shrewd enough to know sharing that twin bed is the best option, but neither of us have acknowledged it yet. There’s no politeyou take the bed, I’ll take the floorconversations happening; that’s out of the question. We need to share body heat. We’re in survival mode.
The dancing flames before me are mesmerizing, but with each blink, my eyelids grow heavier and scratchier. I’m unsure if it’s due to exhaustion or actual dirt. Maybe a little of both; my body is spent. Turning my back to the fire, I allow it to heat my thermal until it’s too much to bear. The room’s overall temperature has gone up enough for me to back away from the stove. I stand and pull back the wool blankets on the bed, then crawl into the cold, crisp sheets. My teeth chatter, but the second my head hits the pillow, my entire body melts into the mattress.
A smile grows on my lips. “High. Cotton.”
To my stiff aching muscles, the bed feels like a cloud. Closing my eyes, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to peel them open again. I curl into the fetal position and use my body heat to warm myself and the blankets around me.
Callahan comes back inside, announcing, “No signal.”
I pretend to be asleep, listening to him stock the stove with more wood and adjust the damper accordingly. Before long, the bed dips, and he scoots me to the edge, placing himself between me and the cold wall of windows. We lie side by side like sardines. He smells like the forest, same as when we were in Oregon together, and the scent engulfs me. I’ve missed it.
“Curve into me,” he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. Goose bumps spread like wildfire across my body. The way he says it is so affectionate it hurts. I swallow when he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me into his chest and hips. The warmth of him at my back feels like coming home. Which is odd, because home is supposed to be stable and constant, and he is anything but.He is fleeting.
This isn’t cuddling, it’s self-preservation and nothing more. As much as it pains me, I can’t help but soften in his arms. How terrible would it be to pretend for one night… just one last time, that it’s not for survival? A tear leaks from my eye. That’s not unusual when one is sleepy, but this one is accompanied by an ache inside my ribs and a lump in my throat. It’s something I never thought I would feel again, at least not with Callahan Woods.He’ll never be mine…so why does he hold me like I’m his?
DAY 2
Light pours through the shutter slats, and I lift my head off my pillow, confused why I’m waking up in a fire tower. Then I remember the events from the night prior.Fuck.
A soft sigh from the woman pressed against my chest has me tightening my grip on her and dragging her closer. It’s stupid, but up here, she’s not somebody’s wife—she’s Scottie. And we’re back in Oregon, before she lied, before shit hit the fan and we broke whatever we had into a million pieces. Dropping my cheek back to the pillow, I close my eyes, already wishing I could take back some of the things I said.
There was some shouting last night. The pent-up anger I harbored came out in an explosion when she yelled at me after I returned with water. God, that was an expedition. My muscles are already sore from all the bushwacking I did to get to the small river stream. A couple spots had me nervous I wouldn’t make it back. Then, as soon as I got in the door, she snapped—and so did I. We fought like cats and dogs. She had mefired up, and I let her know. That’s not usually in my nature, as I don’t care enough to fight with most women.
Then there was the whole squirrel incident. A small smile plays on my lips. She wasn’t about to take an ounce of shit from me yesterday, but that was yesterday, and this is today.
First priority is keeping the fire stoked. I barely slept last night, having to get up and make sure the fire didn’t go out. It’s already time to add another log. Carefully, I roll her away from me and climb over her small figure.
My bare feet hit the frigid floor, and a chill shoots up my spine. Upon closer inspection, I realize there’s still a small flame burning.Interesting. She must have gotten up during the few hours I slept and put a couple logs on the fire. I appreciate that. I add more and close the door on the stove, adjusting the damper to slow the burn and prolong our wood supply. The metal squeaks, and I wince, hoping she doesn’t awaken yet. Her brain needs rest after the hit she took. As delicately as I can, I squeeze behind her again, careful to not startle her. Then I pull her into me for no other purpose than to use her body heat to warm me up. It’s chilly as fuck outside of this bed.
Closing my eyes, I rest my chin on top of her head and breathe her in. There’s something grounding about this woman. She’s like that cozy light under the microwave after coming home to a dark house. She brings me comfort.
Normally, I’d be pacing trying to figure out our exit strategy, but I’m content to lay here and let my mind race from bed. Last night, I tried to send a text to Xander and King, letting them know where we are. It’ll probably be a couple days before anyone even knows I’m missing. After all, I told Xander I had returned safely. This would be the last place he’d look. Nobody will be at the trailhead to see our vehicles because no one in their right mind would hike Quell’s during a snowstorm. Hell, the park service has probably closed the gates on the entrance. It’s not uncommon for people to ditch vehicles at trailhead lots,so it’s not like a ranger will spot it and suspect anything other than a couple of cars left behind.
Someone will notice when Scottie doesn’t show up for work—although, if this is her first day off in a stretch, it could be days before that happens.
I turned off my phone to conserve the battery. I'll try to send a message again later. Doubt I’ll have any more luck with the way the wind is whipping up around the lookout. It’s even louder this morning than it was last night.
We have food, water, and shelter for about a week. There are a few dead trees I spotted that look dry enough to burn, eventually we’ll run out of firewood and need more for the stove. I do some mental math to figure out approximately how many logs we’re burning an hour and how soon my ass needs to get outside to chop more. The lookout has two levels. The top is living quarters; the base, which is only accessible from outside, contains tool storage. I estimate we’ll run out of wood by midday tomorrow.
As far as a rescue goes, it’s not like I can just call in air support. It doesn’t work like it does in the movies, and even if I could, there’s no way they could fly in this weather. We got ourselves up here, we’re set on supplies, so we just have to wait it out, then get our asses back down when this bitch of a storm blows over. Unfortunately, it doesn’t sound like she’s letting up anytime soon.