Page 36 of A Fate of Ice and Lies
“Yep.” I didn’t bother telling him how the fire hadn’t dimmed or gone out once even though I hadn’t yet put new wood in it.
Just like my mysterious blanket, it was a secret I inherently knew to keep to myself.
He tugged my blanket tighter around me and ran his hands over my arms twice before putting his hands back in the pocket of his uniform pants. It was sweet how he looked out for me, especially since he was the only one who still did.
“Keeping your doors locked?” he asked.
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes at him. While many people kept themselves tucked away in their homes, others left to search for food and items to keep them warm. Some went as far as looking in other people’s homes while the homeowners were still there.
Staying quiet, I nodded.
“You have enough to eat?” His eyes scanned the white horizon like he expected something, maybe a dragon or another fae to pop out and charge us. Or whatever was leaving the large imprints on the snow near my woods. Which probably wasn’t the craziest thought given everything that had transpired in the past week.
“Sure,” I lied.
“You know you can stay with me and my family, Teddy,” he offered. Hekeptoffering despite the many times I’d already turned him down. “We have plenty of room and can help each other out. I’ll even let Hee-haw sleep with Ry.”
Maybe it was silly to hold on to my small cabin, but it was home and all I had left of Mom. More than that, though, I felt safe there. Safer since the snow had started to fall. While quite a few people couldn’t leave their home because the snowdrifts prevented them from opening their doors, the snow around my home and property never got that high. My fireplace never ceased, and there was a warm crispiness to my bedroom that reminded me of a summer night.
“I don’t like having you by yourself in the woods,” he pressed with a desolate shake of his head. “It’s dangerous out there, Ted. A lot more dangerous than. . .”
“I’m okay, Donnie,” I reminded him. Probably more okay than his family or the many others in my community.
“Your gun?—”
“One in my bag and the other is in my dresser drawer.” Despite myself, I smiled. “No longer under my pillowcase.”
This time, his lips twitched and broke into the half smile that had once made my heart skip a beat. It only took one shared, awkward kiss to stamp out any romantic feelings I’d once had for Donnie.
“Glad you took my advice.” He nudged my shoulder with his before he turned his attention to the nearby woods.
“I still don’t think I would’ve blown the side of my face off,” I teased back.
“Oh.” He held up a single finger, then reached into the pocket of his puffy jacket, where he pulled something out and handed it to me.
I unfolded the soft cotton material and felt my smile widen when I saw the beanie in my hand. He took it from me to place it on my head, pulling down the sides so it covered my ears.
My grin grew. “Now I can keep my big ears warm.” Or warmish, since the cold still seeped through the thin material.
He tapped my nose before he moved to tug on the bottom of my left lobe.
When he turned his gaze back to the nearby woods, I traced my earlobe, which still felt warm from his touch. His gaze hunted beyond the tree line, and his shoulders bunched with what looked like fear.
He jumped when I touched his rigid shoulder.
“Hey,” I eased out. “Nothing’s there.”
Except I already knew there was. I just hoped whatever it was stayed far away from town.
He angled his head to the side and carefully watched the other two officers before turning back to me. “There are things out there,” he whispered with a quick shake of his head. “Not from our world. More than the fae or the dragon.” His throat bobbed when he swallowed.
I looked toward the woods and took an involuntary step back when a shadow emerged. “What have you seen?”
“It’s not just the prints in the woods by your house but this feeling.”
His eyes narrowed, and he put a protective arm in front of my chest.
“You should go in the store.” His attention snapped to the others. “Incoming,” he told the police officers.
