Page 70 of Season's Schemings
“I mean, it could.” Seb smirks, putting his hand under my arm to steady me. I have no idea how he’s still in good spirits—I’m two missteps short of curling up on the ground in the fetal position and waiting for the bears to find me when they wake up next spring.
Which might sound dramatic—fine,definitelysounds dramatic—but ho-lyyy it’s cold out here. Even with Seb’s coat over mine. Which he insisted on giving me, thoughtful guy that he is.
“You’re right,” I mutter. “Maybe those families of elk and bears and moose and whatever else lingers in the woods will come out for revenge because we disturbed them last night. Snowstorm be damned.”
It came out of nowhere. It was so pleasant when we walked to the village with Jax earlier—not a cloud in the sky and the sun shining warm on our faces.
After getting a couple of hot chocolates at the cafe, Seb and I wandered around the village for ages, ducking in and out of candy stores and handmade gift stores and bookstores. Stopped so that Seb could sign autographs for a bunch of pre-teen boys who recognized him. It was the sweetest thing ever, watching him interact with his fans. Not only was he patient and kind, posing for a bunch of pictures, but he showed interest in each of the boys, asking what hockey positions they played.
It was a perfect afternoon, which faded into a perfect evening. So perfect, in fact, that we decided to have dinner at a cozy little bistro together. It was a long dinner, complete with dessert. We really wanted to make the most of our last night in Aspen sans Adam and the family drama.
But it all went wrong after dinner.
Though it was already dark, we decided to walk back to the cabin along the forest trail instead of taking the main road, like normal, logical people would.
Which was fine until it started snowing. And snowing. And snowing. Add some howling wind and exceedingly diminished visibility resulting in a wrong turn or three, and you’ve got yourself more of aBlair Witch Projectvibe than a HallmarkSnowed Inn For Christmasfeel (double N intended, because there’s ALWAYS an Inn when it’s a Hallmark holiday special).
Now, Seb must sense my plummeting optimism, because he applies a little pressure to my elbow, halting me in my tracks so he can hug me close. “Don’t worry, Mads. I’ve got you. We can’t be far now.”
“I thought I knew where I was going,” I say dully with a shake of my head. “Thought I might have gleaned something from having an absolute mountain man of a brother…”
He takes my hand. Squeezes. “One step at a time, love. We’ll get there. We’re fine.”
I feel entirely responsible for this. Yet Seb is the one comfortingme. And he doesn’t even have a freaking coat on.
And so, we trudge on. Hand in hand, me stumbling every so often. My phone battery died not too long into using the flashlight, and we’re down to 15% on Seb’s phone. Seb also doesn’t have the number of anyone in my family, so it’s not like we can call and let someone know what’s happened.
They probably think we’re still in the village, all cozy-like in front of a fireplace, drinking hot apple cider…
I think my toes have frostbite.
But Seb is my anchor in the storm, steadfast and unwavering and making light of the situation to keep my spirits up. I have no idea if he’s internally freaking out, but if he is, he’s doing a perfect job hiding it. If he wasn’t here right now, I’d be terrified instead of just angry as a pissed-off trash panda whose trash has been taken away at my dumb decision to take the road less traveled. Which anyone who has studied the poem knows is not necessarily the better choice.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the trees seem to become more sparse.
And then, I see it!
A little light, in the distance.
“Aghhhhhhhhh,” I gargle like a gargoyle, my mouth practically foaming with excitement.
“We made it!” The relief in Seb’s voice is palpable—maybe he was more worried than he was letting on.
We turn to each other, and his blue eyes glint in the faint light, before he scoops me into his arms like a groom carrying his new bride over the threshold for the first time. He breaks into a jog and I fling my arms around his neck, squealing and protesting that I’m too heavy, but he’s totally surefooted as he runs, holding me like I weigh nothing.
By the time we get to the front door of the cabin, we’re both breathless and laughing with relief. We step inside, and it’s warm. Oh so warm. And quiet.
“Everyone must’ve gone to bed?” I wonder aloud as I slip off my wet boots and double layers of coat. My hands and feet are like blocks of ice, and my nose and ears hurt like hell from the cold.
Seb stops unlacing his boots for a moment and glances at his phone. “I guess it is after 11pm.”
“What?! We were lost for freaking ages. We can never, ever let Jax know about this. He’d probably enroll me in some terrible wilderness survival course that would end up killing me.”
Seb’s mouth twitches in quiet laughter, then his eyes move over me for a few moments, the corners crinkling in concern.
“Come on.” He reaches for my hand. “Speaking of not keeping you alive, we need to get you warmed up as quickly as possible.”
Seb leads me to the kitchen, grabbing a blanket from the hallway closet as we go. He wraps me in the blanket almost tenderly, squeezing me tight before pointing to a chair and ordering, “Sit.”