Snow Falls (10 page)

“Gonna take the girls out one more time before bed,” Ryan said.

Jen nodded. Ryan was already putting on her coat and gloves, both dogs dancing around her excitedly. She left without another word, and Jen finally released her breath. She leaned back, wondering what was happening to her.

She stared out through the dark window for several minutes, her thoughts still a jumbled mess. With a sigh, she stood, placing her laptop next to Ryan’s on the small desk. She went through her nighttime routine by rote, pausing to meet her reflection in the mirror a time or two but refusing to dwell on her thoughts, refusing to explore why her gaze had been fixed on Ryan’s breasts.

A strong gust of wind shook the cabin, and she involuntarily wrapped her arms around herself. She glanced at the clock, noting that Ryan had been gone nearly thirty minutes. While that wouldn’t cause a concern on most nights, it seemed an abnormally long time for them to be out during a blizzard.

Another ten minutes had her pacing with worry, her glance shifting between the clock and the back door. Her fear and apprehension increased with each tick of the clock. She tried to quell the uneasiness that settled over her, but she was barely able to keep panic at bay.

What if something had happened to them? What if Ryan was hurt?

Her fear overrode her good sense as she hurried to the door, pulling her coat on quickly. As soon as she opened the door, swirling snow enveloped her, the wind taking her breath away as she walked into the cold, dark night.

“Ryan!” she yelled, but the roar of the storm carried the sound away immediately. “Ryan!”

She turned in a circle, getting her bearings. The hulk of the cabin was barely visible in the blowing snow. She looked on the ground, trying to find footprints, but the drifting snow made that impossible.

“Sierra! Kia!” Her panic now had a firm grip on her, and she nearly choked on her own voice. “Ryan!”

A fierce gust of wind made her stumble, and she caught herself before she fell. She squinted through the snow, looking in all directions, but she could no longer make out the cabin. Now alarmed, she took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She couldn’t be more than twenty or thirty feet from the cabin. Logically, she should be able to find it.

“Logically,” she muttered. “One, two, three, four, five,” she counted as she walked, stopping at fifteen. Still no view of the cabin. She turned, retracing her steps, then started all over again, going in a different direction. Still nothing.

She glanced up, hoping for a break in the storm, hoping for a little light from the moon. All she saw was swirling, blinding snow. She finally gave in to her fear, the weight of it settling on her chest and nearly choking her. She walked blindly into the night, hands held out as she waded into the white abyss.

“I hope you know where you’re going,” Ryan said, following the dogs. At least she’d had the foresight to take their leashes. She knew enough about the dangers of a blizzard to know she shouldn’t have been out in it, but cabin fever had a grip on both her and the dogs.

That and the need she felt to put some space between herself and Jen. So okay, sure, she was attracted to her. She’d already admitted that. But it was something she’d managed to keep at bay, hidden below the surface. It was something she could ignore.

Until that damn sled ride.

It reared its ugly head then, screaming to be heard. And she heard it loud and clear. Unfortunately, so did Jen. Ryan could see the bewilderment in Jen’s eyes when she looked at her. She could see the confusion Jen apparently felt. Hell, it was inevitable, she supposed. They were stuck here together, alone. It stood to reason that they would grow close. And they had. They had grown
too
close. They were too comfortable with each other. So much so that Ryan fought with herself daily to keep her past bottled up, fighting not to blurt out all the sordid details to Jen. She no longer feared Jen would judge her. What she now feared was that too much time had passed. Jen had talked freely about writing and about her desire to produce a novel. If Jen knew who she was, she would be angry and hurt that she hadn’t told her...and then she would be embarrassed. And Ryan didn’t want her to feel embarrassed about her enthusiasm for writing.

She stopped up short when she realized the dogs had led her safely back to the cabin. She unhooked their leashes, then opened the door, letting them run inside ahead of her as she stomped her boots on the mat.

“Hey, sorry we were so long,” she said, looking around for Jen and not seeing her. “Jen?” she called as she slipped her coat off. She didn’t think Jen would have gone to bed without waiting for them to return, but maybe she was tired. She held her hands out to the stove, her glance going to the closed bathroom door. The dogs looked at her expectantly, neither quieting down for the night, and she felt an uneasiness settle over her.

“Jen?”

She opened the bathroom door, finding it empty. A glance into the bedroom confirmed her fear. “Jen?” She hurried to the back door, groaning at what she didn’t see—Jen’s coat. She hadn’t even noticed it was missing when she’d hung her own on the rack.

She grabbed the leashes off of the peg, not needing to call the girls as they both seemed to know what was going on. She fumbled with the hooks, her nervousness wreaking havoc with her senses. She slipped her coat on, then back out into the storm they went. Ryan trusted the dogs’ instincts as they headed off in the opposite direction of their earlier hike.

“Jen!” she yelled, only to have her words carried away by the wind.

The dogs tugged at her arms, and she nearly had to run to keep up with them. She could see nothing in the blowing snow and hoped the dogs had a sense of what they were looking for. They moved with a purpose, so different than their normal hikes. Amazingly, they seemed to know what this trek out into the blizzard was for.

Sharp warning barks sounded, and Ryan stopped short, her heart catching in her throat at what she saw. Jen lay face down, her coat almost buried by the blowing snow. Ryan fell to her knees, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely breathe.

“Jen? Oh God, please,” she murmured as she turned her over. “Jen,” she said, taking off a glove and patting her face. It was cold. So cold. She pulled her head up, her mouth directly on Jen’s ear. “Jen, wake up. Please. Wake up.” She patted her face, relieved to see Jen’s eyelids open, but her gaze was unfocused. She patted her face again. “Stay with me.”

“Tired,” Jen mumbled.

“No, no. Please, Jen. Stay with me,” she said as she struggled to stand. “I’m taking you home.” She put her glove back on, then, as if Jen weighed little more than a sack of dog food, she tossed her over her shoulder. She wrapped the leashes around her hand, then followed the dogs again. “Home.”

The dogs fought through the wind and snow, leading her directly back to the cabin. “Good girls,” she said as she pushed the door opened with her shoulder, then kicked it closed again.

With fear again choking her, she lowered Jen to the floor next to the stove. She took her coat off, then struggled to remove Jen’s. Her skin, although still unbearably cold, seemed to be regaining some of its color. She gently brushed the hair from Jen’s face, relieved to still see movement behind her closed eyelids, relieved to hear a quiet moan.

“Can you hear me? Open your eyes, sweetheart.” She patted Jen’s face softly, moving her hands over her frozen cheeks. “Jen? I know you’re there. Come on.”

She took Jen’s hands and pulled her gloves off. They were like ice cubes to the touch and she rubbed them together. She debated on whether the stove was the best option for Jen or a hot bath, but she didn’t want to leave her. There was another quiet moan, then Jen’s eyes opened fully.

“Jen? Stay with me.”

She stood, pulling Jen up with her. Still mostly unresponsive, Jen leaned heavily against her. Ryan wrapped her arms around Jen, holding her as close as she could while continuing to rub her back. At last, she felt Jen start to shiver, and she let out a sigh of relief. Jen’s body was trying to regulate her temperature. Jen finally moved, her arms snaking around Ryan’s waist and holding her tightly. Ryan closed her eyes as she felt Jen bury her face against her breasts.

“I’m so sorry,” Ryan said. “So sorry.”

Jen’s hands clenched into fists, grabbing Ryan’s sweatshirt tightly. Her shoulders shook, and Ryan’s heart nearly broke when she heard her begin quietly crying.

“I’m sorry—”

“No, I’m sorry,” Ryan said. “I took too long. The dogs—”

“You didn’t come back. I thought something happened to you.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“I went to look for you.”

“I know. Shhh, it’s okay. It’s my fault. I didn’t realize how long I’d been gone.”

Jen lifted her head, her eyes damp with tears. “That was another idiot thing I’ve done,” she said as she tried to smile. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking I was in trouble,” Ryan said.

Jen nodded, then buried her head again. “I couldn’t see a thing,” she said, her voice muffled against Ryan’s chest. “I was just so worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured again. “So sorry.”

They stood there by the stove for long minutes, still holding tightly to each other. Ryan’s hands were moving aimlessly across Jen’s back as she relished the closeness. Was it inappropriate? Perhaps, but she made no move to untangle from her.

Jen finally shifted, and Ryan loosened her grip, letting Jen step away from her. Their eyes met and Jen reached for Ryan’s hand, seemingly not wanting to break contact.

“Still cold?”

Jen nodded.

“How about a hot bath?”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Stay here by the stove. I’ll run the water.”

While the tub was filling, Ryan rummaged in her drawers, finding a pair of sweatpants and shirt for Jen. She put them in the bathroom, then went back to get Jen.

She was standing by the stove, arms wrapped around herself. She turned when Ryan approached, smiling apologetically. Ryan shook her head.

“Don’t you say you’re sorry,” she warned. “This one’s on me.”

“Okay. How about a cup of coffee?”

“Yes. I’ll make some. Go get in the tub.”

Jen left the door open to the bathroom, and Ryan’s imagination went into overdrive each time she heard water splashing. She could vividly picture the scene in her mind. She busied herself with the coffee, making a tray to take out to the living room, trying to chase her thoughts away. She stood at the stove, her back to the room, staring out into the dark, stormy night. Half an hour ago she was scared for Jen’s life. Now, she was picturing her naked in her bathtub.

“Thank you.”

Ryan turned, seeing Jen—silhouetted by the lone lamp—dressed in Ryan’s clothes. Her hair was damp and brushed away from her face. Ryan stared, thinking she’d never seen a more beautiful sight. Their eyes held for a long moment, then Ryan shook herself, motioning for Jen to join her at the stove.

“I’ll bring the coffee.”

They stood side by side, quietly sipping their coffee, listening to the crackle of the fire as it drowned out the raging blizzard that continued outside their cozy cabin.

***

Jen tried to lie still, but the events of the past few hours had taxed her limitations. How close had she been to succumbing to the elements? She had no recollection of falling, no idea if she’d lost consciousness or not. She just remembered the constant fear that gripped her when she couldn’t find the cabin, couldn’t find Ryan and the dogs. Once again, she’d proven how inadequate she was to this lifestyle. As if driving into the path of an avalanche wasn’t enough, she had to further show her shortcomings by getting lost in a blizzard. Lost...and nearly freezing to death.

“Do you want me to hold you?”

Jen closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again to the darkness, touched by Ryan’s concern. Although feeling a bit needy, she could not refuse the offer. “Yes, please.”

“Roll over on your side, away from me,” Ryan instructed.

Jen did as she was told, then held her breath as Ryan scooted up close behind her, folding her long body around her own. Jen reached for Ryan’s hand, pulling it tightly to her. For someone who didn’t like to sleep with anyone, didn’t want anyone in her space, she felt totally comfortable with Ryan. She felt secure...and warm. And safe.

When she felt Ryan’s soft breath on her neck, she sighed contentedly. At that moment, there was no place in the world she’d rather be. That thought, while startling, did not shock her as much as it should have.

The hand around her stomach tightened, and she ran her fingers over it, loving the softness of Ryan’s skin. Her fingers trailed back and forth slowly, with only the barest of touches. Her eyes slipped closed, and she had a sudden vision of that hand moving higher, across her breasts. Her heart lurched in her chest, her pulse racing at the thought.

She acknowledged that things seemed to have changed between them. She’d felt it all day, the underlying tension that seemed to have sprung up around them. A tension that she was terrified to put a name to.

Instead, she stilled her movements and willed sleep to come.

***

When she was sure Jen was asleep, Ryan let out the breath she’d been holding and moved quietly away from her. Because it felt too good to stay where she was. She silently groaned as she stared into the darkness. It had just been too long, she reasoned. Too long since she’d been with a woman. Too long since she’d even held a woman, much less made love. She was certain that was the only reason her libido was making itself known. She just had to control it for another few weeks, at most. Then the snow would melt, the lower road could be cleared...and Jen would be out of her life.

Five weeks ago that thought would have thrilled her. Now, it brought only uncertainties and a feeling of loneliness. Which, of course, was absurd. She liked being alone. She enjoyed her solitude, her seclusion. In fact, she could hardly wait for things to get back to normal.