Page 36 of Snowy Secrets

"Well, well, well," I mutter irritably. "Looks like Mother Nature had herself a hell of a time."

I was expecting this, though. And truthfully, this buys me some more time with our guest of honor. It's evident River has it going with her, no surprise with the sounds coming from the study last night. But the question is…will he be all right if he knows he's not the only one who's caught the feels?

Sunlight filters through the trees, casting long shadows on the untouched snow. It's a beautiful sight, sure, but it doesn't change the fact that we're stuck here for the foreseeable future. The drifts are too deep for walking, and the roads? Forget about it. We're not going anywhere for a few days.

"Guess we're playing the waiting game," I say with a shrug, running a hand through my unruly hair. "Time to make the most of this unexpected exile."

I head toward the barn, a short hike through the snow-covered woods. It's quiet out here, just the crunch of my boots and the occasional bird chirping. The mill itself is a ghost town, usually bustling with activity, but now it's just a snow-covered husk. I make my way to the storage shed, its door creaking like an old man's bones. Inside, stacks of firewood beckon. Thank heavens I had the foresight to stock up before the storm hit. I grab an armful, the bark rough against my hands.

As I head back, a flicker of movement catches my eye. A deer, almost invisible against the white landscape, bounds across a clearing in a fleeting fire of gold and frosty white. I watch it disappear into the trees, a wave of introspection washing over me.

Life's a funny thing, always changing, always throwing curveballs. We lose people we love, we face challenges, but we keep going. We adapt. Losing my wife was like getting hit by a freight train, but even then, life found a way to move forward.

"Just like that deer," I say under my breath as I huff and puff through the snow toward the cabin's entrance. "Gotta keep pushing on, gotta find a way."

Which is also the truth right now. My boots sink into the snow with each step.

The first hurdle is a drift that reaches my waist. "All right, you fluffy bastard, let's dance," I mutter, bracing myself and lunging forward. The snow gives way, swallowing me up to my armpits. With a grunt and a few choice curses, I wriggle my way out, spitting snow from my beard.

Next up, a patch of ice hidden beneath a seemingly innocent layer of snow. One moment I'm walking, the next, I'm doing an involuntary split, my legs splayed out like a damn ballerina. Thefirewood goes flying, scattering across the snow like kindling for a giant campfire. "Son of a bitch!" I roar, the sound echoing through the silent woods.

Gathering the scattered logs, I decide to crawl the rest of the way. It isn't the most dignified approach, but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures. I inch my way forward, muttering choice profanities under my breath, my beard dragging through the snow like a plow.

Finally, I reach the porch, my muscles aching and my pride wounded. "Well, that was…invigorating," I huff, dumping the firewood on the porch with a thud. "Note to self: never underestimate the power of frozen water."

I brush the snow off my clothes, my fingers numb from the cold. But as I look back at the trail of destruction I've left behind, a grin spreads across my face. There's something oddly satisfying about conquering nature's obstacles, even if it means getting a little bruised and battered along the way.

"You win this round, Mother Nature," I mutter, throwing open the cabin door and stepping into the warmth. "But I'll be back for a rematch."

Back at the cabin, the fire's dwindled to embers, leaving the place ice-cold. I get to work, tossing a few logs into the hearth and coaxing the flames back to life. Slowly, a mellow heat spreads through the room, and I release a contented sigh. Time to make some tea.

I fill a kettle and set it on the stove, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent cabin. As the water heats, I grab the tin of tea leaves and inhale the scent of earth on them.

While the tea steeps, I lean against the counter, my eyes scanning the snow-covered landscape outside. It's a picture-perfect scene, a reminder of the raw beauty that surrounds us. Yes, living the mountain life is hard—but there is a lot of genesishere, growth and renewal. Unlike what I've come from, where there is nothing save death and destruction.

The tea is ready. A pour later, I take a sip from the steaming cup. Wafts of caramel-touched steam rise from my mug, the scent of Earl Grey filling the quiet cabin kitchen. I lean back against the counter, warming my palms from the residual heat of the cup. My mind drifts to Bella, her image seared into my memory.

I'm not a man of many words, but I know what I want. And right now, what I want is to explore the connection with her. It's a primal pull, an undeniable attraction that has been simmering since the moment I laid eyes on her. The years since Sarah have been a solitary journey, and while I've embraced the solitude, there's no denying the spark that ignites whenever Bella's near.

"Can't hurt to try," I grunt, taking a long sip of the scalding tea. "She's a grown woman. She can handle a little flirtation."

But there's a wrinkle in my plan, a complication that can't be ignored: River. The man's clearly head over heels, his gaze glued to Bella like a lovesick teenager. After everything he's been through, I wouldn't dream of stepping on his toes. We're more than just friends. We're brothers, bonded by years of shared experiences and mutual respect.

A thought strikes me then, a possibility that both excites and intrigues me. Maybe, just maybe, there's room for both of us in Bella's life. Hell, maybe even all three of us, because it's obvious Wyatt is a goner too. I'm not one for conventional relationships, for putting love in a neat little box and labeling it. Life's too messy for that, too unpredictable.

And Bella…she's a force of nature, a woman who defies easy categorization. She deserves a love that's as wild and untamed as she is, a love that's not confined by rules or expectations, a love that allows her to fully be herself.

"It's not a traditional setup," I admit to myself, a slow grin spreading across my face. "But who the hell wants traditional, anyway?"

The earthy heat from the tea settles in my lungs, fueling a growing sense of anticipation. This could be interesting. This could be fun. And if Bella's willing to play along, well, then the possibilities are endless.

But first things first. I need to talk to River to make sure we're on the same page. There's no room for jealousy or petty squabbles in this equation. We're a pack, and if he's not okay with this situation, I won't move ahead with it.

Speak of the devil. The cabin door creaks open just then, a blast of cold air and the scent of pine needles rushing in. River and Wyatt stomp the snow off their boots, their faces ruddy from the cold. River is his usual stoic self, gives me a brief nod as he shrugs off his coat. Wyatt, ever the charmer, flashes a grin that could melt a glacier.

"Morning, sunshine," he drawls sarcastically, dusting snowflakes from his beard. "Smells like you've been brewing up a storm in here."

"Tea's on," I reply, nodding toward the pot. "Help yourselves."

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