Page 8 of Holly's Grizzly

In fact, the longer I hold her, the more she relaxes. Her breathing grows deep and even, and her color gets better with each passing moment. From deathly pale when I found her, to a deep flush after we got inside, to something softer and morenatural—a light blush over her cheeks and the rest of her skin back to a much less concerning shade of pale peachy cream.

After a few more minutes, she’s fallen into a doze, and I can almost convince myself she’s out of the woods for any serious lasting effects of exposure.

Gently, watching her face for any signs I’m disturbing her sleep, I brush some of her golden blond hair back and away from where it’s scrunched up against the blankets between us. It falls free, catching the firelight and hopefully drying in a way that won’t be such a nightmare for her to untangle later.

Holly’s eyelids flutter and she stirs slightly in her sleep, but nestles closer and lets out a soft sigh, the only sound in the cabin other than the crackle of the fire and the occasional gust of wind outside.

All of that peace and quiet makes room for the absolute unreality of the situation to come creeping back in.

Was it just a half-hour ago I was sprawled out on this same sofa, watching the snow fall and getting ready to spend another holiday alone?

It seems impossible to believe it was, and as the minutes tick by, more and more questions pile up.

Where did Holly come from? Was she alone, or will there be anyone looking for her?

And, maybe most importantly, how am I going to help her get wherever it is she was going? Either back to her car or somewhere else on the mountain, she must have had a destination in mind.

A sharp gust of wind interrupts that thought, and my eyes cut to the world outside the wide windows at the front of my cabin.

The blizzard doesn’t seem to be abating. In fact, it only seems to be getting worse.

It puts a stab of dread in my gut, knowing that if I hadn’t been around to hear her scream, she might still be out in this nightmare. And with the way the weather’s fixing to shape up over the next few days, it might have been a long, long time before anyone else found her.

I swallow that dread and all my questions. They’ll have to wait until Holly wakes, and nothing matters right now except that she’s safe. She’s here, she’s alive, and we can figure out what happens next when she’s had some time to rest.

Glancing back down at her, I find her expression even more relaxed, breathing steady and deep. Seeing her like that makes me relax a bit more, too, enough to find a small thread of absurd humor in this whole mess.

Gods, but it’s strange to have another living being in this space.

It’s a solitary life up here, so far from the nearest town. Peaceful, too, but lonely at times, especially when the winter snow blows down from the peaks and the world settles in to wait for spring.

Aside from some neighbors who also live in cabins dotted up and down the mountainside, I don’t get a lot of company. And that’s mostly by design. Most folk who choose a life like this do it willingly, with full knowledge of the challenges that come along with it.

It’s probably mademea bit strange, keeping my solitude up here. Spending long hours in my woodshop and puttering around my garden in the summer like I’m some kind of hermit.

Or maybe I was always that way.

Maybe anyone who chooses a life like this has to be a little off-kilter.

Which is just one more thing to worry about when Holly wakes up—how the hell she’s going to react to being here, alone, with a man she doesn’t know. Agrizzlyshe doesn’t know.

For now, Holly rests peacefully in my arms, eyelids shut and long, dark lashes fanned out over her cheeks. Her wavy blond hair is still a little damp, but quickly drying in the cabin's warmth. The light of the crackling fire catches those soft waves, gilding them and illuminating the upturned slope of her nose and the graceful arc of her high cheekbones.

Outside, the snow falls thick and unrelenting. Big, heavy flakes stick to every branch and pile up on the ground in fast-growing drifts. On top of the freezing rain that came down all afternoon, it’s created a big damn mess. Temps won’t get back above freezing for a couple of days, and the last time I checked the forecast, the brunt of the storm was going to pass right over this part of the mountain.

It doesn’t bode well for helping Holly get out of here.

The roads up to my cabin are rough to traverse even in good conditions, and by now they’re probably impassable. With snowshoes, and if the snow eases some, it might be possible for Holly to make it wherever she was headed, but she doesn’t have a pack of supplies for that kind of journey and I don’t have the right type of gear to lend her.

Glancing out the window again, realization settles over me.

I don’t think Holly is going anywhere anytime soon.

3

Holly

I wake in a furnace.

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