Page 11 of Holly's Grizzly

Absolutely absurd.

Like all of this is just some typical Christmas holiday, and I’ve come up to the mountains for a visit. Like it’s not completely bonkers for me to be here right now, sitting on Irving’s couch and seriously considering riding out the blizzard with someone I only met hours ago. Someone who saved me, carried me through the woods, saw me naked, and let me sleep on him.

But…

Irving still has that earnest, serious look on his face, and I’m not sure I’ve got any other options. And while I’m almost certain it should bother me more, make me more panicked or afraid or… I don’t know, like I’ve just landed myself smack in the middle of a horror movie rather than a warm and cozy Christmas special, it… doesn’t.

“Am I?” I can’t help but tease a little, the tightness in my chest slowly unspooling. “Your guest, I mean.”

“If you want to be?” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, answering mine.

And… alright. I guess we’re doing this.

I guessI’mdoing this. Leaning on Irving, deciding to trust a stranger, when all I wanted from this trip was to prove that I could do it all on my own.

It puts a note of bittersweetness in my relief, a tremble in my smile, but I take a small, steadying breath to try to dispel it.

“Okay. Sure. And the couch is fine. It’s not you, really. I just…” I trail off, not sure exactly how to phrase what it is I’m feeling.

Beyond the immediate concern of shacking up with some guy in the middle of nowhere, it’s the same old discomfort I always feel when asking for or receiving help. Some nagging sense of putting people out, of being a burden, of getting more attention and charity than I deserve.

“Do you have your phone?”

Irving’s question pulls me out of those uncomfortable thoughts.

“I…” I look around, trying to remember where exactly I had it. “Oh! I think it was in my…”

I glance at my pile of wet clothes and grimace, but when I try to stand, he beats me to it.

“I’ve got it. Coat pocket?”

Nodding, I watch as he fishes it out of the zippered pocket at the front of my jacket. By some stroke of dumb luck, I had the foresight to tuck it into a waterproof bag to keep it safe from the elements, and as he hands it over I find it still has a charge.

And surprisingly good cell service this far out in the forest.

“I have a signal booster,” Irving explains when he catches my furrowed brow. “And I thought it might be good if you let someone know where you are, and that you’re alright. Do you have friends or family who might be looking for you?”

I shake my head. “No. I was alone on this trip.”

The words come out hollow and flat, but Irving doesn’t push for details. He’s right, too, that it would be good to let someone know I’m okay. I think for a moment before sending a text to Kenna and Nora.

My family—well, what little family I have—is back on the East Coast. Beyond telling them I wasn’t going to be back for the holidays, I didn’t let them know my plans. Since I only talk to them once every couple of months, they won’t be worried or waiting to hear from me.

My friends, however…

Almost immediately, both Kenna and Nora send back texts saying that they’re glad I’m alright, and wanting to know exactly where the hell I am.

I glance over at Irving. “Is it… would it be alright if I let them know your address? Just, you know, so they know where I am?”

“Of course,” he answers, relaying the info as I fire off another quick text with more assurances that I don’t think I’m in any imminent danger from my grizzly shifter rescuer.

It seems to appease them, though they’re both painfully curious to know the story about how I got here, and I promise to call them later.

It all seems like too much to deal with right now, so I set the phone aside and settle back against the couch cushions.

“I was going to make some dinner,” Irving says, standing from his chair. “Are you hungry?”

I hesitate, and he waits in silence for my reply.

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