Page 14 of My Savior Valentine

It's not just gratitude, though there's plenty of that. No, it's something deeper, a connection forged through shared vulnerability and understanding. In the short time we've been trapped here, I've seen glimpses of the man beneath the gruff exterior - the one who's been through hell and back, who understands the weight of expectation and the pain of loss.

Despite the dire circumstances, I realize I feel more alive right now than I have since my last Olympic race. The adrenaline, the heightened emotions, the sense that every moment matters—it’s intoxicating—and terrifying.

I close my eyes, trying to push away the fear that threatens to overwhelm me—fear for my own safety, fear for Reid out there alone, fear of these intense, unexpected feelings. I focus instead on the hope that he'll find a way to get us out of here and that this won't be the end of our story.

The hours drag on, each minute feeling like an eternity in this frozen tomb. The pain in my leg goes from a dull throb to a searing agony, pulsing with every beat of my heart. I grit my teeth, trying to breathe through it, but it's getting harder to focus on anything else.

In a desperate attempt to distract myself, I let my mind wander to my family. Mom's probably beside herself with worry by now. I wish I'd told her "I love you" more often instead of brushing off her concerns with a flippant "I'm fine." And Dad... God, the thought of never getting the chance to mend our relationship makes my chest ache worse than my leg.

As I sit here, trapped and helpless, the weight of my life choices crashes down on me. All the missed opportunities, the single-minded focus on my Olympic dreams to the exclusion of everything else. What do I have to show for it now? A broken body and a shattered sense of self?

But then I think of Reid, of the life he's built for himself after leaving the army. If he can start over, why can't I? Maybe this is a sign, a chance to reassess what I want from life. The idea of staying in Hope Peak flits through my mind, tangled up with the possibility of exploring whatever this thing is between Reid and me.

A fresh wave of pain jolts me back to the present. Gritting my teeth, I drag myself over to Reid's backpack, rummagingthrough it in search of painkillers. My fingers brush against something unexpected - a small, worn photograph. Curiosity getting the better of me, I pull it out for a closer look.

It's a picture of Reid with a group of men in army fatigues, their arms slung around each other's shoulders. They're grinning at the camera, but a hardness in their eyes speaks of things seen and done. I trace the lines of Reid's face, younger but still recognizable, and feel a pang of longing to know the man behind the uniform.

As I tuck the photo back into his bag, I realize how much I want to unravel the mystery that is Reid Hart. Not just the gruff mountain rescuer or the haunted ex-soldier but the person beneath it all. The one who makes my pulse race and my defenses crumble.

I slump back against the icy wall of the shelter, my mind spinning. For so long, I've been running from my past, from the pain of losing my Olympic dreams and the pressure of everyone's expectations. But in this frozen wilderness, with death lurking just outside, I've found a glimmer of something I thought I'd lost forever: hope.

It's not just about survival anymore. It's about the possibility of a future, one where I'm not defined by my failures or my fame. And somehow, inexplicably, that future is tangled up with Reid.

I close my eyes, picturing his face. The sharp angles softened by concern, the piercing eyes that see straight through my attitude. I think of the way his arms felt around me last night, solid and reassuring, and the heat of his lips against mine in that fleeting, charged moment.

I want more of that. More of him. Not just the physical attraction, though there's no denying that's part of it. But the connection, the understanding, the sense that he sees me for who I really am, not just the Olympic darling or the washed-up has-been.

So I make a decision, here in this icy cocoon. When Reid comes back, when we're safe and warm, and my leg isn't screaming in agony, I'm going to take a chance. I'm going to ask him out and suggest we get to know each other beyond the confines of this frozen hell.

Putting myself out there is terrifying, especially after everything I've been through. But if there's one thing I've learned from this ordeal, it's that life is too short to let fear hold me back.

So I'll wait for him, holding onto that spark of hope like a lifeline. And when the time is right, I'll take a deep breath and leap, trusting that whatever happens, I'm finally ready to stop running and start living again.

10

REID

Itrudge up the mountain as quickly as I can, but it's slow going. My boots sink deep into the snow with each labored step, and despite wrapping up, the wind's icy fingers still manage to claw at any exposed skin. I squint against the swirling flakes, my eyes watering from the cold. The terrain is treacherous, a minefield of hidden rocks and sudden drops, but I navigate it with the skill born of years in the military.

Despite what I'm up against, I can't stop thinking about Willow and our kiss. It was a moment of pure impulse, born of fear and relief and something else I'm almost afraid to name. I'm surprised by the intensity of my feelings, the way her lips on mine seemed to ignite a fire in my veins. It's unprofessional, I know. I'm here to rescue her, not to start a romance. But I can't deny the anticipation I feel at the thought of getting back to her.

I feel more alive than I have in years like I've been jolted awake from a long, numb slumber. It reminds me of the adrenaline rush of my military days, that heady mix of fear and exhilaration. But this is different somehow, more personal. In just one night, Willow managed to breach the walls I'd socarefully constructed, to touch a part of me I thought was long buried.

As I climb, I grapple with my sense of duty, trying to reconcile my professional responsibilities with my growing feelings. I'm here to ensure Willow's safety, to bring her back alive and well. I can't let my personal desires cloud my judgment or compromise the mission. But even as I remind myself of this, I can't stop thinking about her, about the way she makes me feel.

Before I have a chance to contemplate what I'm going to do, the radio crackles to life in my hand, the static giving way to Viggo's voice. I feel a rush of relief, my focus snapping back to the task before me.

"Viggo, do you copy? This is Reid," I say, my words clipped and urgent.

"Reid! Thank God. What's your situation?" Viggo's reply is immediate, his tone a mix of concern and relief.

"I've found her. We're sheltered about two miles southeast of Blackpeak Ridge. She's got a broken leg, but she's stable." I relay the information quickly, my eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of a break in the weather.

"Good work. The storm's clearing. We're prepping a helicopter for extraction." Viggo's words are like music to my ears. Help is on the way.

"Copy that. How soon can we expect you?" I ask, already calculating how long it will take me to get back to Willow.

"If the weather holds, within the next few hours. Can you mark your position?"

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