Page 36 of A Very Addicted Christmas

Followed by another hour, and then another. I’m pacing at the front door, my muscles screaming torun.To leave.

To find my best friend.

The longer I’m stuck here, the more my brain is thinking the worst.She’s dying.And I can’t do anything. I just have to let her die?I just have to live my life without her in it? I can't even picture a world without Jane. Pain balls up in my ribs.

I rest my hands on my head.

Farrow is watching with total concern. I haven’t let him touch me. He leans casually against the wall near the door, his black jacket unzipped.

I stop pacing, my chest taut and muscles on fire. No one else is in view. My family has gone to bed, and I think most of the bodyguards are in the kitchen right now.

My eyes sear, unable to fill with water. I force back tears of frustration, but something inside of me wishes I could just let it all out.

I stare right at Farrow, and my chest collapses.

“What do you need, wolf scout?” His voice is quiet and calm. Comforting.

You. "I need you." I walk over to him, and he’s already standing off the wall. Our arms are already wrapping around each other with strong-willed strength that burrows deep inside my soul.

He clutches the back of my head. “Breathe, Maximoff.”

I try.

I grip his neck, almost shuddering against his chest. I pinch my eyes with my other hand. Charlie is counting on me to find Jane.

Beckett, Luna, Sulli—they’re allcountingon me, and I’d lose all my toes to frostbite if it meant finding Jane alive.

Dear World, my other half better be okay. Sincerely, a pained human.

I hold onto Farrow and try to relax, built-up emotion causing me distress that can’t be relieved that easily. I need to cry, but I keep forcing tears down.

I can only scream, and even that I struggle with because I hear the stairs creak. I pull away from Farrow, just slightly. I keep an arm around his shoulders, and I face the front door. Not wanting anyone to see me with doubt or apprehension.

My family believes I can rescue Jane, and I can’t shatter that belief. They’ll just wait up and agonize over this when they could be sleeping.

Farrow glances back at whoever crosses the foyer into the living room, and then he assesses me. “We’ll find her.”

I nod stiffly and swallow a rock. Jane is resourceful and smart—way smarter than me. She can survive a night in the cold. And she has Thatcher. She’s not alone.

I blink a few times, eyes raw. “I can’t stop picturing her dying, Farrow.” It’s killing me.

“Don’t think about what you can’t control. Just concentrate on what you’re good at.” He rubs the back of my neck in soothing circles.

“Overthinking?” I crack a knuckle.

His lip rises. “The other thing.”

I breathe out a deeper breath. “I’m great at a lot of things.”

He rolls his eyes into a spreading smile. “Like being cocky.”

“Yeah, and I'm the cockiest around you.” I exhale another breath, and as our eyes meet, I say the “thing” he’s referring to. “Preparedness.”

“There we go.” Farrow lifts his brows. “Just think about how we’re going to get from point A to point B.”

I do, and around dusk, the winds finally die down. Farrow and I buckle our packs on our chests, slip on our gloves, and leave Mackintosh House.

We trek in deep,deepsnow. Following the road to the grocery store. I set a rigorous pace, and Farrow matches me step-for-step, not slowing for anything.

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