Page 12 of My Savior Valentine

"Yeah," Reid agrees, his voice softening. "Guess it does."

Unconsciously, we shift closer, our shoulders touching, our breath mingling in the confined space. Despite the cold and thepain in my leg, I feel a sense of hope, an understanding and companionship that I didn't know I needed.

"Well, this is certainly an unconventional Valentine's date," I joke, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "Not exactly the stuff of romance novels."

Reid laughs. "Hey, I'm not that grumpy," he protests, but I can hear the smile in his voice. "And who needs candlelight and roses when you've got protein bars and thermal blankets?"

I laugh softly, shaking my head. "Guess I can't complain about the accommodations, given the circumstances."

Reid's chuckle rumbles through his chest, and I feel it more than hear it. "Just don't go giving me a bad review on Yelp. I have a reputation to uphold."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I reply, a smile tugging at my lips. "You're not so bad for a mountain rescuer with a grumpy streak."

"High praise," Reid says dryly, but I catch the hint of amusement in his tone.

As the conversation naturally winds down, a comfortable silence settles over us. The howling wind outside seems muffled now, less threatening. Reid shifts beside me, and I feel his arm gently wrap around my shoulders, pulling me closer to his warmth.

I stiffen for a moment, surprised by the gesture. But as the heat from his body seeps into mine, I find myself relaxing into his embrace. It's a strange feeling, being held like this. I can't remember the last time I allowed myself such vulnerability, such closeness.

As I listen to Reid's steady breathing, I feel a host of emotions swirling inside me—mostly confusion —confusion about how my perception of Reid has shifted so dramatically in such a short time. The gruff, irritable mountain rescuer I met yesterday has transformed into someone I feel oddly safe with, someone who understands the weight of expectations and the pain of loss.

And despite our dire situation—stranded in a snow shelter with a broken leg and a raging storm outside—I feel a strange sense of comfort. It's as if, in the midst of this crisis, I've found a kindred spirit—someone who sees beyond the medals and the media persona, someone who accepts me as I am, flaws and all.

As exhaustion finally overtakes me, I let my eyes drift shut. The last thing I'm aware of is the steady rise and fall of Reid's chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me to sleep. And as I slip into unconsciousness, I realize that for the first time in a long time, I don't feel quite so alone.

8

REID

The snow crunches beneath my boots as I pace outside the makeshift ice shelter, the radio clutched in my gloved hand. "Viggo, come in. This is Reid. Over." Static crackles in response, and I grit my teeth, trying again. "Viggo, do you read me? Over." The silence that follows feels heavy, broken only by the soft whisper of falling snow.

I tilt my head back, watching the flakes drift from the gray sky. The storm has eased, but the gentle snowfall does little to calm my growing unease. We need to get out of here.

Tucking the useless radio into my jacket, I scoop a handful of fresh snow and head back to the shelter. I poke my head inside to find Willow still asleep, her face pale against the dark fabric of her jacket. I try not to disturb her as I grab my stove from my pack and set about melting snow for water.

As the snow turns to liquid, I take stock of our supplies. Energy bars, a few packets of freeze-dried meals, and now, a couple of bottles of water. It's not much, but it'll keep us going for a little while longer.

My gaze drifts back to Willow, and worry instantly twists in my gut. She needs medical attention and soon. I know I can'tleave her here alone, but the longer we stay put, the slimmer our chances of getting her out of here and saving her leg become.

I need to find a signal, a way to contact Viggo and the team. But as I look out at the vast expanse of white beyond the shelter's entrance, I know it's not going to be easy.

"Reid? Reid, are you there?"

I duck back into the shelter, my heart racing at the sound of Willow's voice. She's sitting up, her face pinched with pain. "Hey, what's wrong?" I ask, kneeling beside her. "Is it your leg?"

She nods, biting her lip. "It's throbbing pretty bad." Her voice is strained, and there’s a sheen of sweat on her forehead.

I reach out, gently placing my hand on her shoulder. "Okay, let's take a look." I carefully shift her pant leg, examining the splint. It's still holding, but her ankle is swelling pretty badly. "I'm going to adjust this; try to ease some pressure. Here, take some more pills to ease the pain."

As I work, I feel Willow's gaze on me. My fingers brush against her skin, and I'm suddenly aware of how close we are in this tiny space. I clear my throat, trying as much as possible to focus on what I’m doing.

"How's that?" I ask, sitting back on my heels.

Willow flexes her foot slightly, wincing. "A little better, thanks." She looks up at me, and I'm struck by the intensity in her eyes. Even in pain, there's a fierceness there, a determination that catches me off guard.

I nod, reaching for my pack. "You should drink something, too. Stay hydrated." I hand her a bottle of water, watching as she takes a long sip.

As she drinks, I study her face. The soft curve of her cheek, the way her dark lashes contrast with her pale skin. She's beautiful, even here, in probably the worst situation you could imagine.

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