Page 4 of First Kissmas

I grab my phone, using it as a flashlight as I look out the window. “See? A tree limb came down. That’s all.”

But she doesn’t relax. Her eyes dart between me and the window, and I notice how she positions herself near the door. Ready to run.

“Courtney.” I stay where I am, giving her space. Wind howls outside, rattling the windows. “If someone might come looking for you, I need to know. I need to be prepared.”

She wraps her arms tighter around herself. “No one is coming.”

“You sure about that?”

The silence stretches between us. She stares at the floor, and I notice how scared and young she looks despite clearly being in her twenties.

“My brother,” she says finally. “He’s overprotective. Controlling. I couldn’t stay anymore.”

The words come out clipped, measured. A protective rage builds in my chest, but I push it down. She’s not looking for another man’s anger, even if it’s on her behalf.

“Does he know where you’re going?”

She shakes her head. “He was passed out when I left. But he’ll look for me.”

The radiator sputters. The lights flicker once, twice.

“Will he know to look here?”

“He won’t. Not right away. But he has friends everywhere. He’ll call them all. Show my picture. Ask if anyone’s seen me.”

“What will he do if—” The lights go out before I can finish. The room plunges into darkness. Courtney inhales sharply.

“It’s okay.” I use my phone as a flashlight again. A warm circle of light illuminates the space between us. “Storm must have knocked out the power.”

Her face looks pale but composed. She blinks against the light.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“Fine.” She picks up her things. “I should finish getting ready for bed.”

I adjust the flashlight, pointing it at the ceiling so the light bounces, giving her enough to see by. As she gathers what she needs, I notice her hands aren’t quite steady.

Through the window, I watch the snow fall harder. The storm might slow her brother down when he wakes tomorrow, but it won’t stop him. Men who treat family like property always comelooking. The thought settles cold in my stomach as the wind batters against the glass.

While Courtney finishes getting ready for bed, I get settled on the small cot on the floor, pulling the blanket over me that Mrs. Miller left with the cot. My back will hate me in the morning, but I’ve slept in worse places.

A few minutes later, I hear Courtney slide under the covers on the bed.

I lie awake in the darkness, listening to her breathing. She’s trying to hide it, but I can hear her teeth chattering. The sound makes my chest tight. Without any power, the cold presses in through the windows, and the blanket she has won’t be enough.

I pull off my blanket and stand.

“Here.” I lay it over her, tucking it around her shoulders.

“Don’t.” Her voice is quiet but firm in the darkness. “You’ll freeze.”

“I run hot.”

The wind picks up outside, rattling the windows. Her shivering grows worse.

“Would you…” she starts to say, but then stops. I hear her take a breath. “The bed is big enough for both of us.”

My pulse quickens. Every instinct says to keep my distance, stay on the cot where it’s safe. Where I can’t feel the warmth of her, can’t feel her curves tucked up against me.

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