Page 7 of Frost
“Shit!”
I lose my balance and fall, my ass hitting the cold ground as I tumble to the riverbank. A fallen branch juts out from the snow, and I smack my head on it before I come to a halt. Wet trickles from my temple as my eyes flutter open and closed. My body feels heavy, and I ache all over. I hit every damn rock and branch on the way down the hill. I try to sit up, but the pain in my skull sends me right back to the snow. I’m dizzy and disoriented, barely even able to keep my eyes open.
Fuck. I can’t pass out here. It’s way too cold, and with the closest house being over five miles away, it’s not like anyone will stumble upon me to help.
I force my eyes to open and panic a bit when I see blood in the snow. How in the hell did this happen again? I’m a walking disaster.
“Boy,” a voice says from behind me.
“H-Hello?” I croak, trying to sit up.
Am I imagining things? Hallucinating? Maybe the hit to my head knocked a screw loose.
I listen for a response, hoping like hell someone is actually here. Seconds pass, and my eyes fall shut again. But a light pressure on my back causes them to snap back open. And directly in front of me is a man that can’t be real. A man I made up when I was eight years old.
Silver hair falls across his brow just like it did back then, and his skin glimmers like freshly fallen snow.
“J-Jack?” I ask, stunned.
His pale blue eyes narrow as he cocks his head. “Is that you, little light?” He brushes aside the hair from my forehead. “I suppose you’re not so little anymore. You’re all grown up now.”
Yet, he looks exactly the same. Unlike the Jack from my books, this one doesn’t look like a teenager. Though slender, he’s strong with toned arms and wide shoulders. And though his youthful face is almost too perfect to be real, his eyes show his years. Eyes that seem to have seen more than I could ever imagine.
“Y-You’re real,” I whisper in disbelief.
I don’t know if it’s the smack to the head or pure shock to see him again after all these years, but my eyes close and everything goes dark.
***
Warmth fans across my skin, and I hear crackling. I wake up to see I’m lying on the floor in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket with a pillow under my head. My head hurts a little, but it’s not too bad. I stare at the burning logs in the fire before my lids get heavy again. The fire is relaxing, and I’m so warm. Comfortable.
Wait.
How did I get back to the cabin? The last thing I remember is rolling down a hill before smacking my head. And there was a man with me. One with beautiful silver hair and icy blue eyes.
“Jack!” I say, flinging upward and looking around the room. The sudden movement makes my head spin, and I slap a hand to the floor to steady myself.
“Easy, little light,” a familiar voice says from the left. I look to see Jack standing by the table, seeming so out of place in the cabin with his snow-dusted blue-and-gray clothes, unique shade of hair, and his pale skin. He’s like a fairy tale come to life. “You hit your noggin good out there. You need to rest.”
“You’re really here.” I blink once, then twice, expecting him to disappear.
“Where else would I be?” he asks, stepping toward me. He’s light on his feet, his steps barely even audible. I suck in a breath when he squats down in front of me, his face so close to mine. The tops of his pointed ears poke out from his hair, and he softly smiles as our gazes meet. Chills having nothing to do with the temperature erupt on my skin. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.” I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s higher in pitch and kind of scratchy. I touch my head and find something wrapped around it. “Just a little sore.”
I’ve only been dreaming about this man for as long as I can remember. Having him in front of me is surreal. Exciting. Hell, my body is excited too—one part of me in particular.
“Excellent,” he says, probing my temple with soft fingers. “I doctored your wound and waited to make sure you were okay. Now that I see you are, I should leave.”
“No.” I reach for his hand as he starts to pull away. His skin is warm despite his frosty appearance. I let go of him, though, right as I make contact. “You can stay for a while if you want to.”
I’m in a state of shock as I stare at him. For nineteen years, I convinced myself Jack was only a dream. Now that he’s here, I don’t want him to leave. I have so many questions, so many things I want to know.
“Stay?” he asks, looking around. “Here?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Not nearly enough ice.” He smirks before rising to his feet. As he walks toward the front door, I rack my brain for something—anything—to say. He turns back to me. “If you take another stroll in the woods, please be careful. You’re clumsy in the snow.”
