Page 11 of My Savior Valentine

I shrug, trying to play off the pain. "Oh, you know, just a casual broken bone. No biggie." My attempt at humor falls flat, and Reid frowns.

"Let me know if it gets worse, okay? We'll get you out of here as soon as the storm clears." His words are firm, leaving no room for argument.

I nod, a lump forming in my throat. It's been so long since someone cared about my well-being beyond my ability to perform on the slopes. I think back to the endless training sessions, the doctors and physical therapists who poked and prodded me, all to keep the Olympic machine running. My father's relentless push for perfection, his love seemingly conditional on my success.

But here, in this cramped snow shelter, Reid's concern feels different. It's not about what I can do but simply about keeping me safe and alive. The realization is both comforting and unsettling.

"We should try to get some sleep," Reid suggests, interrupting my thoughts. "Gonna be a long night."

I nod, feeling exhaustion seeping into my body. We awkwardly shift, trying to find a comfortable position in the limited space. My broken leg makes it nearly impossible, and I can't help but let out a hiss of pain as I accidentally jostle it.

"Here, let me..." Reid reaches out, gently helping me adjust my leg. His hands are strong but surprisingly gentle, and I feel a flutter in my stomach that has nothing to do with the pain.

"Thanks," I whisper, my voice suddenly hoarse.

Reid settles back beside me, his body a solid presence in the darkness. "Get some rest, Willow. I'll keep watch." His words are a gruff promise of safety.

"Goodnight, Reid," I murmur, closing my eyes and trying to will myself to sleep.

But despite my exhaustion, my mind won't settle. The events of the day replay in my head—the exhilaration of the off-piste run, the terror of the fall, the pain of the broken leg, and now, the confusing jumble of emotions stirred up by Reid's presence.

The darkness is all-consuming, the storm outside howling like a wounded beast. I lie awake, acutely aware of Reid's every breath. The silence stretches between us, filled with unspoken tension and the weight of our individual struggles.

"Are you awake?" I whisper, my voice sounding small in the cramped shelter.

A grunt of acknowledgment comes from Reid's direction. "Yeah. Can't sleep?"

I shake my head before realizing he probably can't see the gesture in the darkness. "No, my mind won't shut off." I hesitate, debating whether to voice the question nagging at me. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. "Yesterday, when we first met. You seemed... I don't know, grumpy? Do you not like your job?"

Silence follows my words, and for a moment, I worry I've overstepped. But then Reid sighs, a heavy sound that speaks volumes. "It's a long story," he says, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I served in the military, saw some things that... well, they change you. Coming back to civilian life, it's been a struggle. Mountain Angels, it's a way to use my skills, to feel like I'm still making a difference. Even if the name of the place is a fucking embarrassment, and I spend 99% of my time tending to twisted ankles."

I can't help but smile.

"I get that," I murmur. "For me, it was the Olympics. I trained my whole life and pushed myself to the limit. One injury, and it was all over. My dad, he... he couldn't accept it. Still can't."

As we talk, the walls between us seem to crumble. We share stories of our pasts, the triumphs and the losses, the scars both visible and hidden. In the darkness, it's easier to be vulnerable,to let our guards down, and connect on a level that goes beyond the surface.

"You know," I say softly, "I never thought I'd find someone who understands what it's like. The pressure, the expectations, the feeling of being trapped by your success."

Reid shifts beside me, his voice low and rough. "Yeah, it's a heavy burden to carry. People see the surface, the medals, the rescues, but they don't see the cost."

"Exactly. And when it's all taken away, it's like... who are you without it? Just a washed-up athlete with a broken leg in a snowy cave," I say with a self-deprecating laugh.

"Hey," Reid says firmly, his hand finding mine in the darkness and squeezing it. "You're more than your medals, Willow. And you're sure as hell more than a broken leg."

His words catch me off guard, and I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. "Thanks, Reid. That... that means a lot."

We lapse into silence, but it's comfortable now, filled with a new understanding. Reid's thumb gently rubs circles on the back of my hand, and I'm surprised at how much comfort I find in the simple gesture.

"You know," I say, breaking the silence, "if someone had told me yesterday that I'd end up sharing my deepest fears with a mountain rescuer, I would've laughed in their face."

Reid chuckles a low rumble that I feel more than hear. "If someone had told me I'd be stuck in a snow shelter with an Olympic medalist, I would've told them to lay off the whiskey."

I grin, feeling a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the close quarters. "Guess life has a funny way of surprising us, huh?"

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