Page 21 of All I Want for Christmas Eve

When I hang up, I sigh. Adam hasn’t pulled his pants back on yet, so I just enjoy the view for a moment. But then I notice the various colors his leg has turned. “Holy shit, that looks painful,” I say, pointing.

He grimaces, touching it. “I’ve had worse. College football can be pretty rough. So you’re from Minnesota?”

“Yes. Do you still want to come with me? We would have to get you those x-rays and some medical attention for your injuries first.” I pause. “I totally understand if you didn’t mean it, and you were just trying to be cool and chivalrous.”

“You can’t just say things if you want to be chivalrous,” Adam says, tugging his boxers and pants back on. “You need to actually follow through. But yes, I want to be your knight in shining armor, the same way you came to my rescue.”

“Are you just saying that in hopes of finishing what we started earlier?” I accuse him.

He grins. “Partially. But I also just like to do helpful things. That’s why I snuck out of bed in the middle of the night to fix the generator.”

“You did?” I ask. Then realizing that I am not freezing and my phone is fully charged, I smile brightly. “You did! That’s amazing. I didn’t even notice.”

“I aim to please,” he says, leaning on his arm languidly.

“Do you want some more manly, chivalrous duties?” I ask him. “If your leg can handle it?”

“Let me guess,” he responds. “You want me to help you pack?”

“Precisely!” I respond. “And to help me start shoveling out.”

“As you wish, my good lady,” Adam says with a twinkle in his eye. “I just have one question—when you say you’re packing everything, do you mean everything? You’re leaving the furniture behind, right?”

“Yeah—the only thing I might consider mailing ahead is my armchair.”

“By Santa’s whiskers, no. That puke-green monstrosity?”

“Hey!” I say defensively. “I love that armchair. I wrote my first book sitting in that chair, on my laptop.”

“Maybe that’s why your neck is so messed up, Eve, it’s a massively uncomfortable chair.”

I make a face. “Fine, I guess you’re right. The shipping costs would be too high, anyway.”

“I promise to buy you a new chair in Minnesota, which is much prettier and more comfortable,” Adam says.

“I will accept that promise,” I tell him with a nod.

The one thing about Alaska that I love is how fresh the air is. Once you’re all bundled up, and outdoors enjoying the hour or two of mild sunlight there is, it just feels really good to breathe. The air is so cold and pure and rejuvenating.

But there is so much snow to shovel in order to get the car out, that two hours doesn’t seem like nearly enough time. And even if it were, the snowplow hasn’t come through the main roads yet, and it will still be dangerous and difficult to drive.

We have tried to entertain ourselves with playing some music on my cell phone, and random jokes about Adam and Eve. It has definitely made the time pass faster. We are almost finished shoveling out my driveway, and have almost reached the main road, when Adam collapses.

“Adam!” I call out, rushing over to him. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he says, wincing as he clutches his injured leg. “It’s just a tiny bit painful.”

“A tiny bit? Your leg crumpled under you like it was made of marshmallows.”

Adam laughs softly. “At least the snow was a soft landing. Here, help me up and we’ll keep shoveling.”

“We need to stop so you can rest,” I tell him gently, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“But we’re almost done,” he protests as I help him stand.

“We can’t keep going if your leg is giving out, Adam.”

“But the sooner we finish, the sooner I can get to a doctor,” he points out.

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