Coming back to the cabin was like coming home. Comfort immediately soaked into my bones, and getting out of the heavy camping gear was such a relief.
Now I sit in the kitchen with Archer and Frankie as they prepare dinner while Nick showers, and light thunder rumbles overhead. The new storm was hot on our heels, and luck was definitely on our side that we made it back home just after dark.
“Look, all I’m saying is that the next time that radio goes down, we are not fixing it.” Frankie resumes chopping an onion. “That shit broke under me, and I’m the lightest. No one is going back up that tower.”
“Fine,” Archer grumbles, turning back to the sink and dipping his hands in the water. “Next time, I’ll make sure they send a professional.”
“You think there will be a next time?” I ask, toying with the salt shaker.
“Oh, definitely.” Frankie nods. “That tower is old. Lucky it’s even still standing.”
I watch him closely as he chops, checking for any sign that he’s not okay. Just in case. While physically, he might be fine, a fall like that from any height is scary, and Frankie is very clearly a soft soul.
The door creaks and Nick trudges in, his long hair soaking in a towel. “Shower’s free,” he says, running a hand over his face. “What’s for dinner?”
“Stew,” Frankie replies. “Hot and hearty.”
“Speaking of.” Nick slides down onto the stool next to me. “Christmas.”
“Christmas?” I lift one brow.
“With the other storm rolling in, I know there’s still a few weeks until Christmas, but in the off chance we’re not able to reunite you with your family before Christmas Day, I want to make sure that you can still have a nice time. If it’s your kind of thing?”
The sincerity in his voice warms my heart immensely and my smile creeps wider. “I love Christmas,” I admit softly. “It’sactually the only reason I even came on holiday with my family this year, partly because I felt like I owed them, but there was also a teeny, tiny part of me that wanted to see an extravagant Christmas. Does that make sense?”
I glance between all three of them.
“I mean, I usually do something small myself with friends, but I kind of go all out. I get the biggest tree I can find and as many decorations as I can afford and I dress up. I even have a collection of ugly sweaters.”
“Of course you do,” Archer mutters, but there’s a softness in his tone that I could easily mistake for affection.
“Which, by the way…” I chuckle. “It’s total propaganda because I challenge you to find me a hideous Christmas sweater. People just act like it because they’re so weirdly afraid of admitting that they actually enjoy the time of year or the designs.”
“Well.” Nick laughs. “I don’t know about sweaters, but I’m pretty sure we have some decorations in storage. But I was thinking more about dinner?—”
“Really?” I don’t mean to interrupt him, but excitement fizzes inside me at the prospect of decorating. It would be a fun thing to do if I’m going to be stuck here, and frankly, this place needs some festive cheer.
It’s December, and the fir trees outside are not enough to get into the Christmas spirit.
“Dinner?” Nick asks.
“No, decorations! Can I see them? I mean, would that be okay if we put some up? Just… if I am going to be stuck here, then it would be really nice to get some tinsel up or even a little reindeer?”
“I’m on her side.” Frankie smirks. “It would do you two good to see some color.”
Archer grunts, but Nick seems oddly hesitant, and I try to reel back my excitement.
“Unless they’re in storage for a reason? I mean if there’s a problem, then?—”
“No,” Nick cuts in quickly. “There’s no problem. They’re just, uh…” Nick suddenly seems uncertain for the first time since meeting him, and his deep frown makes my stomach flip. “We just haven’t looked at them in a while.”
I catch Frankie and Archer exchanging a look, and my stomach tightens. I feel like I may have stepped into something I shouldn’t have.
“Oh, well I mean, that’s okay.” I quickly try to backtrack, distracting myself with a dent in the wooden table.
“No. Frankie’s right. Color is good, and it’s a shame they’ve been stored for so long.”
Before I can say anything else, Nick is on his feet and he strides out of the kitchen. When he returns, his normal smile is back on his face and he carries a box under one arm. In the other, he holds up a small, rather pathetic looking Christmas tree that’s spent one too many years flat packed with boxes.