“Hello?” I called out. My voice sounded nervous, which annoyed me. I belonged here. If anyone should be nervous, it was him. But I’d kissed him without asking, and familiar tendrils of guilt began to unfurl. He’d been so sad that night beneath the Christmas tree, in no place to deal with my feelings. I should have kept my crush locked up inside where it belonged. I had no business wanting my stepbrother, especially then. But I’d been a dumb teenager, and he’d been so wounded I just wanted to wrap him in my arms and make it all better.
My face burned with a mix of embarrassment and shame as I closed the door behind me and stepped inside.
I firmed up my voice. “Quinn? You here?”
No answer. The place felt empty. I dropped my duffel and laptop bag on the sofa as I wandered into the great room. The cabin had an open floor plan so that the living area, dining, and kitchen were all one massive room. The leather sofa sat in the center of the living area in front of a large fireplace, two armchairs bracketing it, complete with ottomans. At the other end of the room, a quartz countertop with six barstools made up the kitchen/dining area. Everything looked as it always did—with one addition: a sad little Charlie Brown-style Christmas tree sat on a table in front of the window looking out onto the deck.
We usually got a real tree every year, and this wasn’t that. It was about three feet tall, one of those fake plastic trees. But Quinn had decorated it with a few shiny Christmas bulbs and a couple of popsicle-stick creations I’d regrettably made in elementary school. I was a little surprised Quinn had opted to use one with my kindergarten picture glued into place.
As my heart warmed, I reminded myself it was just a fucking child’s handmade ornament. It didn’t mean he still thought about me the way I thought about him.
Christ. Almost four years spent trying to forget him, and my inescapable crush came rushing back the second I was in the room with something he’d touched. I hadn’t even seen him yet, for fuck’s sake.
Maybe I’ll see him and feel nothing. Maybe he won’t be at all as I remembered.
And maybe I was kidding myself.
I left the Christmas tree and went into the kitchen, where I found a saucepan in the sink and a plate full of the no-bake cookies Quinn loved. The kid used to pack so many away you would have thought they were full of hash. Of course, with pot use legal in Colorado, they really could be. I mulled that over as I picked up one and took a large bite. I devoured it and grabbed a second before I made a quick check of the rest of the rooms. Four bedrooms, two bathrooms. My dad got the master, of course. Jess and her husband, Ryan, took one; the Terrible Two, aka my two-year-old twin nieces, doubled up in one; and I took the loft room upstairs. Where did that leave Quinn?
But my sinking heart already knew.
My room was the only one with a spare, unused bed.
If Quinn was still here when the rest of the family finally made it in, he was going to be my roommate. Just what I needed: the guy I’d always wanted only a few feet from my bed and still untouchable.
But where the hell was he now? A glance out the window confirmed the snow was only coming down harder. With a frown on my face, I pulled out my phone to check my service. No bars. Not even one. Usually the cabin got decent service, but the weather must be impeding it.
If Quinn were in trouble, he probably couldn’t call for help.
I paced the living room, checking my phone for the time. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Thirty.
With the sky darkening and the snow worsening, I wasn’t sure I should continue to wait around in the hope he’d return safely from whatever errand he’d run. If he stayed out much longer, he was going to have a hell of a time getting back.
The last thing I wanted to do was go outside. I was ready to crash after hours on the road, but the niggling worry that he was stranded somewhere—or soon would be—made me tense. There would be no hot tub and chill until Quinn was safe and sound under this roof.
And then I’d have to stay away from him, for my own sanity. I could crash in one of the other beds until the rest of my family got here. Or even better, make him crash there. Because once again, my family cabin, not his.
I’d worry about that later. Once I made sure he didn’t have hypothermia.
Mind made up, I grabbed a set of keys and went out the back door, following the trail leading to our shed where we kept the snowmobiles. When the snow started coming down in the mountains, there was only one surefire way to travel—and it wasn’t by car, even a four-wheel-drive Jeep.
Riding a snowmobile in a snowstorm was risky. It could get stuck in drifting snow or hit something hidden by layers of snow. Thankfully, I knew the trails around here like the back of my hand. I wouldn’t need to see them to find my way, which was good because visibility was shit right now. But there was a nice buildup of hardpacked ice and not enough new snow to truly deter me.
Besides, Quinn was out there.
I swung a leg over the snowmobile and turned the key, sending up a silent prayer it’d actually start after a season of sitting idle. The motor purred to life, and I patted the handlebars. “Good girl. Let’s go find us a moody emo boy.”
QUINN
Huddled in the car, I scanned the horizon for any signs of life, but not a single car had passed since I’d slid into the snowbank. My phone still had no service. I’d checked it about fifty times, despite knowing reception was poor in this wooded area even without the bad weather. The cabin usually had good service though. Just yesterday, I’d wished my phone didn’t have service so I could avoid calls from Clay and Mom without a guilty conscience. The phrase be careful what you wish for was playing through my head.
Even though I knew I should stay put, I was restless. Instead of conserving my warmth, I got out of the car to reassess my situation.
Still screwed.
I blinked a few times, as if that would change the sight before me, but there was no hope. I briefly considered trying to dig my way out with nothing but my hands. Maybe I could take off a shoe and use it as a shovel?
They were the thoughts of a desperate man. I’d thought coming here was a stroke of genius. I’d finally gotten away from Clay, who would only have dragged me down into destruction with him. I was supposed to be getting my life in order, finding a job. Ken had said I could stay at the cabin as long as I needed, which was a hell of a lot better than couch surfing with friends who would tire of me or admitting to my mom just how badly I’d fucked up.
But was I going to end up dead before I could set anything right?
A light caught my eye, not from the road but from the edge of the woods across from me. My heart skipped. Trails were interwoven through these woods. Could someone really be out snowmobiling in this weather?
Maybe they got caught in it, same as me.
The single light grew brighter, along with the sound of a motor. When the snowmobile emerged from the stand of pines onto the road, I nearly cried. I waved my arms desperately, even though he was already coming to a stop and swinging one long leg over the snowmobile to dismount.
The man was taller than me, but that wasn’t hard since I was five-foot-ten on my tiptoes, and between his bulky coat and helmet, I couldn’t see much of him. Even when he pulled off the helmet, he still wore a stocking cap beneath.
But he was the best thing I’d ever seen.