Page 30 of Stuck on the Slopes

Ibuprofen only helped for about ten minutes.

Between the fever and my sore rear, sleep didn’t come easily. My face felt like it was on fire and my clothes stuck to my body with my sweat, but I couldn’t control my teeth chattering. It was bad enough I didn’t even feel residual pain in my butt from when I’d fallen yesterday.

I texted Juniper since my throat was too sore to consider calling.

[Rachel: Hey, sorry for the last-minute notice. I came down with a fever last night and still feelin’ it today. Probably best if I hole up! I’ll take advantage of it to work on editing these pictures we got this afternoon.]

[Juniper: Are you okay?]

[Juniper: Don’t worry about the photos.]

[Rachel: Yeah, just a nasty cold. I’ll be fine, promise!]

[Juniper: Do you have anything to take for it?]

[Rachel: I’ve got ibuprofen and plenty of tea to get me by.]

Juniper didn’t reply after that, so I set my phone back down to try to get some sleep. But I felt so cold, as if the very snow and ice outside were in my veins, that it was hard to get comfortable enough to rest properly.

When I finally did sleep, my fever dream was so bizarre I felt at least partially lucid through it. In my medicine-influenced mind, Juniper sat in my old boss’s chair behind his desk at the corporate office in Orlando, both of us in nothing but our undergarments. The blinds were open, letting natural light into the white and gray space as I rolled my hips against his lap, desperate for us to ditch the last bits of fabric separating us. Juniper’s lips were frigid against my own, but so soft I didn’t mind the chill, especially with the way the sun warmed our skin from the windows of the corner office.

A knock at my door made me stir. A look at my phone’s clock showed it had only been about ten minutes since I texted Juniper. I wrapped a blanket around myself as I got out of bed, trying to ignore the way I shook with every movement and the growing pressure between my legs.

It was a fever dream. That’s all.

When I opened the door, there was Sasquatch, a bag in his mouth by the handle. Despite the delivery, he wasn’t wearing his vest.

“Hey, Sasquatch!” Speaking made me cough. I kneeled down to scratch the Newfoundland between the ears and take the bag from him. As I looked inside, Sasquatch pushed past my legs and into my room, jumping on the bed.

I laughed as I closed the door behind me, returning to bed. I pulled out the supplies: a zinc nasal spray and a decongestant, a thermometer, some loose-wrapped cough drops, and a few packets of vitamin-C drink powder. After I took everything, Sasquatch curled up by my side. His long, brown fur felt soft to the touch, an instant source of comfort.

Thanks for the goodie bag. That was very kind of you.

Juniper:Don’t thank me. It was Squatch’s idea.

He’s still here, btw

Juniper:He’s off the clock right now. And also a great cuddle buddy if you need one. I’ll call if I need him. He’ll let you know if he wants out.

I owe you one!

Juniper:Don’t mention it. I need my best employee in tip-top shape, that’s all.

Rachel: Aren’t I your only employee…?

Juniper:Yes, and also my favorite. Even if it is by default.

Juniper:Best to not discuss semantics when sleep-deprived.

Even now, he had to have the last word, but this time, it brought a smile to my lips that was as out of my control as my shivering. After still failing to sleep for another hour, I gave up. Sasquatch lifted his head once he realized I was getting up.

“Your dad will never admit it,” I said as I grabbed the camera, the USB cable that came with it, and my laptop. I left both on my bed and then moved to the backdoor. “But he’s really a big softy, isn’t he?”

Sasquatch stuck his tongue out in response, panting with what looked like a smile. If dogs could smile, that’s certainly what Sasquatch was doing. I gestured to the back door, and he bounded over, accepting my bathroom offer. The cold air hit me like a blast when I opened the door, but since my fever had me feeling hot, it was a welcome sensation. While Sasquatch did his thing, I grabbed a small dish from the kitchen, filled it with water, and left it on the floor for him. Once he was back in, I closed the door, glad to keep the cold air outside where it belonged.

As much as I loved it, a proper winter was definitely an adjustment—and not one I was about to dive headfirst into while I was feeling like this.

The weather reminded me a lot of Juniper. Absolutely beautiful to behold, but the cold would sting and burn anyone who got too close or lingered for too long. But for those who dared to stick around, they’d adapt. Their skin may be dry and calloused like my very fingers, but there was something about being embraced by the cold rather than devoured that made me appreciate it even more.

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