Page 42 of My Rival for Christmas

paige

I’ve always foundsnow falling to be a peaceful sight, if not hypnotizing as it rains down in its rhythmic nature.

It’s one of the few things in life that can make my New York hustle slow down for a beat and just stare. Saving me from my worries and anxieties even for a short breath. A wondrous reprieve.

Yet as I look out the expansive window, at the winter scenery before me—the snow blanketing the already covered ground and the mountain peaks that sit in a storm-cloaked veil, I feel no peace, I am not calm.

Any therapeutic relief snowing might have given me has been chased away by an egregious shift in the day. Leaving only space for more boisterous, if not insidious in nature, emotions to find a home.

Rage. Annoyance. Contempt.

They’re all stewing inside me as I keep my heated glare trained on the weather outside, hoping it’s blazing enough to dispel the falling snow so I can escape this godforsaken cabin.

That’s right.

Cabin.

As in Nate’s family cabin.

As in…I’m still in the middle of the woods with Nate fucking Ford.

Now trapped here by the forces of a cruel winter’s fate.

All becausethe truck didn’t start.

That stupid, fucking old-school red truck that almost killed me on the way up here now sits proudly in my view, completely unaware of the turmoil it’s wreaking by not starting.

Especially since no one can come up here to rescue us untiltomorrowat the earliest. Meaning I’m now stranded in the middle of nowhere withNate.

A shiver runs up my spine at the thought.

After the little slip-up on the ice thatwill notbe mentioned, Nate and I kind of awkwardly drifted apart, silently packing up our belongings. With me trying to avoid his questioning stare in the process.

While I went to grab the stuff I put inside the cabin when we first arrived, things I didn’t want left out in the cold, Nate said he was going to get the cab warmed up.

Silence had greeted me as I stepped out of the house with my coat and bag slung over my shoulder. I didn’t think anything of it.

Until Nate said, “I think the battery died.”

Then the silence shattered, opening to my new reality. Almost frantically, I made him turn the key over and over and over again with only the truck sputtering in answer.

“I still can’t believe you don’t have jumper cables here,” I grumble, glaring at the lake as little mounds of snow pile atop it.

“I have jumper cables but nothing to jump start them with.” It’s, like, his third time telling me this, but I keep hoping the answer will change.

Isn’t he supposed to be Santa’s favorite this year? Where is the miracle, Santa? Send us something to use the cables on!

Because what’s the point of having them if you have nothing to use them with?

That’s like saying I have water but no glass to drink it in. Completely useless.

“What about one of your friends?” I don’t look away from the window. “You do have those here, don’t you? Or is everyone too busy celebrating the peace and quiet they’re now getting without you around?”

“Still have friends here. And they all still love me.” I find that hard to believe. Still not turning around, I watch Nate’s faint reflection ripple in the clear glass of the window. “Unfortunately, they’re all either working or not in town right now. But we’ll be fine. My buddy Dax said he’ll drive up in the morning once the snow passes, so it’s no big deal.”

No big deal—I beg to differ.

“Tomorrow isn’t good enough.” My eyes start to burn from the intensity. “What about your dad?”

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