Page 13 of My Greatest Joy

“One waswool,” I tell her in disbelief. She’s being dramatic.

“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m always cold.”

“Because you’re cold-hearted?”

“Can you save the insults for later, please? I’m having a crisis at the moment.”

I smirk, grabbing her hand so she doesn’t trip down the stairs. “C’mon, I’ll build a fire.”

Dasher zooms to the living room, and I grab a couple of flashlights and the matches.

“Hold this up for me so I can see.” I hand her a flashlight.

I grab some kindling, but because of the draft, it takes me a minute to get it started. Once I have a nice flame going, I stand. “Is that better, Little Miss Seattle?”

She sits directly in front of the fire on the shag rug. Dasher settles in beside her, much to her disdain.

“Can you get him off me, please?” She tries to push against him, but he’s a hundred-plus pounds of dead weight and doesn’t budge.

“It’s a mystery to me why he likes you so much. At least you can use his warmth.” I grin.

She groans.

I can hear the fridge running. “Generator kicked on, so at least the food in the fridge won’t go bad.”

“And heat?”

“The pilot light must’ve blown out. Sometimes that happens when it’s this windy. I’ll check it in the morning when it’s daylight.”

She shoots me a disapproving glare. “So now what?”

“I’m going to bed. You should go back to sleep.”

“Where? It’s an icebox in my room.”

I point at the couch.

“You’rekidding.”

Shrugging, I call for Dasher, who gives Fallon’s cheek a final lick before following me out of the living room.

“The wooden bench by the window contains more blankets. Help yourself,” I call out, and as I make my way upstairs, I swear I hear her cursing me. But I expect nothing less, considering her attitude.

CHAPTER FIVE

FALLON

DAY 3

I’m in hell.

No, scratch that.

It’s too cold to be hell.

More like if hell was in Antarctica, and it was hailing and snowing ten-inch icicles.

Dramatic? Maybe.

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