Page 21 of Stuck with My Bossy Protector

“A debris shelter. But we’ll worry about that if it happens. For now, let’s move. Twenty minutes. We bust ass and move as quickly as we can. We don’t stop. We’re going to push ourselves.”

I blink at him, caught off guard by his optimism. It’s infectious, though, and I smile weakly back at him.

“Okay, twenty minutes,” I nod. “I can do that.”

We keep walking, pushing through the storm. The snow is relentless. The wind makes it hard to hear or see anything. But Noah doesn’t let go of my hand. His steady presence keeps me going. My thoughts drift to the warmth of the cabin, a fireplace, and hot food. I cling to that image, using it as a beacon to pull me forward. It’s like a mantra that runs through my mind on a loop. There is an end to this torture. I will get to be warm. I’ll get a bed, and my fingers won’t hurt.

After what feels like an eternity, Noah slows his steps.

“What’s wrong? Did you see something?”

He shakes his head. “I think we should stop. We’re not going to make it.”

It feels like a boulder has dropped out of the sky and landed on my shoulders. He is giving up. He can’t give up. Noah is the one driving this train.

“No.”

“Excuse me?” He looks stunned. “I need to find a place to shelter us. It’s our only chance.”

I look around and see nothing that looks like a shelter. “No,” I say again. “We keep going. It’s still daylight. We can go a little farther. We have to be close.”

“It’s going to be dark soon,” he says.

“But it’s not dark now.”

“Shit,” he mutters. “Alright, but if it gets dark, it’s going to be pretty damn hard to find anything to make a shelter with.”

“We’re not going to need it. We’re going to get to the cabin.”

“I hope so.”

I feel a renewed sense of determination flooding through me. “We will,” I insist, squeezing his hand.

Failure isn’t an option. Noah doesn’t ask how I can be so certain. He just nods, gripping my hand in silent support. We keep moving, ignoring our aching limbs as we push our tired bodies onward. We have to keep our heads down to be able to see anything, which is dangerous. If we’re not looking around, we risk some wild animal getting the jump on us.

My heart sinks with every passing moment as the cabin fails to appear. It was a calculated risk, and I may have just screwed us. I might have gotten us killed. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about living with the guilt for long.

Suddenly, Noah jerks me to a halt. I freeze beside him, following his gaze. He squints into the distance, his hand shielding his eyes from the snow. “I think I see something,” he says, excitement creeping into his voice.

I strain my eyes, trying to see what he sees. At first, there’s nothing but white, but then I spot it too—a dark shape looming in the distance. Could it be the cabin? My heart leaps with hope, and we both quicken our pace, trudging through the drifts with renewed energy.

As we get closer, the shape becomes more apparent. It’s definitely the cabin, half-buried in snow but unmistakably there. Relief washes over me. I let out a cry of joy. We made it. We actually made it.

Noah doesn’t say anything, but I can see the relief in his eyes as well. The cabin is so close, but it feels like it is miles away. It takes every ounce of strength to push on. I have to dig deep.

“Don’t stop now!” Noah shouts.

When we get close, it’s clear no one is home. There’s no smoke pouring out of the chimney. No glow from a fire.

“He’s not here,” I say.

“I don’t care,” he replies. “I’m getting in that cabin.”

We climb onto the porch and knock on the door.

“Eric!” I shout. “Eric, it’s Mia!”

Noah doesn’t wait for the door to open. He tries the handle. “Dammit. It’s locked. Are you sure this is the right place?”

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