Page 32 of Snowbound with the Santas

Frankie’s questions are getting a little too close to home, a little too real, so I shake my head and turn my attention skyward.

“It’s complicated. Y’know, they’re so full of themselves, I doubt they even noticed I’m gone.”

Frankie’s lips part, and I can see the desire to question me deeper in his eyes. So I cut him off before he can.

“How can you track this second storm without the radio?”

Frankie’s mouth closes, and he seems to be debating internally before he replies, “I’m a forest ranger, remember? I’m pretty good at reading the sky. It’s a talent. I took the job to escape people, and instead of learning social skills, I learned to read the sky.”

He laughs loud enough that Nick glances back at us.

“Is that all it takes?”

“Nah, but with Archer’s skills at reading the world around us and the last weather report we received, we have a good enough idea of what’s coming. Call it an educated guess.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” One thing they’ve told me constantly is how quickly the mountain can change. Hearing that they read the clouds is a little alarming.

“It is.” Frankie nods. “But it’s Christmas. Mother Nature wouldn’t screw us that hard.”

“You sure about that?” I tease. “You already gained me and lost communication. If it weren’t the season of being merry, I’d say we were in a horror movie.”

Franke grins at me, and my heart warms at how adorable his smile is. “You think so?” he says. “Lost in the mountains. Maybe it’s Krampus that will come down the chimney and not Santa.”

“Ooh all those horns and that fur? Maybe we’ll be the last survivors and skin him alive at the end.”

“Dark.” Frankie snorts.

“Think about it. Archer’s the soldier, right, so he would die first. Nick’s theleader, so he will die. That leaves us versus Krampus.”

“You think we’d survive?” Frankie shoots out an arm to catch me as my boots slide on a patch of ice.

“Maybe not.” I grin at him.

The rest of the hike is beautiful. Frankie and I chat a little about his brother, and he admits to avoiding a lot of his grief by trying to help Archer. I understand him completely. I wentinto teaching to make up for the terrible night I caused, so his reasoning makes sense.

Eventually, Archer calls a halt to the hike when we reach a small cave that’s little more than a wedge cut into the side of the mountain. There’s no wind there, though, and it surprises me how quiet the world is when we’re inside.

Nick gets a fire going, and Frankie sets up the sleeping bags as spaced out as they can be, then ties them off to a few hooks already embedded in the rock face. He tells me they’re to prevent anyone from rolling down the mountain in their sleep.

There are only three sleeping bags, though, and it’s quickly decided that I’ll share one with Frankie.

“His muscles are tiny. There’s room,” Nick remarks, and a playful argument breaks out between him and Frankie while Archer cooks up some of the cold meat and canned soup we brought with us.

It’s the first time I’ve ever eaten out like this, and it’s somewhat disorientating to see the sun set so quickly when it still feels so early. By the time we settle down to eat, the stars are out and a dark blanket of silence has draped across the forest. The moon is so close I swear I can reach out and touch it.

“How’s your leg?” Nick asks between wolfing down mouthfuls of soup.

“Surprisingly okay,” I reply. “It hurts, but the tight bandage is helping. It’s a lot of support, so thank you.” I smile at Archer, but he remains as stone-faced as ever.

I’m even more determined to crack him. Gentleness exists. I saw it when he tended to my leg, and I will pull it out of him.

Peeing in the freezing cold is a new experience, especially when I have to hold Frankie’s hand so I don’t topple down in the snow and get lost. As the others tend to their nightly hygiene, my mind wanders.

Being here, up a mountain under the stars with three gorgeous men on a hike to fix a radio tower, feels like a dream.

Maybe I did die in that crash, and this is like when you try to use a phone in a dream but can’t see your fingers. Maybe the radio tower doesn’t exist and I’m just here, finally at peace and away from my mother. Away from Ashton and the horror of my past.

Then again… would a murderer really be granted peace like this?

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