Page 211 of Keeping Kasey
She shrugs as much as she can. “Just this once.”
Despite everything, I laugh. “If I ever have to cover you in a dead man’s clothes to keep you from freezing to deathagain, I really will buy you an island.”
Kasey winces through a laugh, which quickly dies when she realizes it’s time for me to go.
“I’m coming back,” I assure her.
“I’ll be here,” she whispers.
When I lean in and kiss her, I nearly give in and stay. Who needs a full life when I can die on Kasey’s lips?
It’s only when we hear the high-pitched whistle of the wind blowing through the broken window that I finally pull away.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you, too.”
I close the bedroom door behind me, sealing Kasey inside, and pull the cushions off the couch. I stuff one against the bedroom door to block airflow from coming in through the base of the door. I use two others to pack in around the broken window and block it as much as I can. The tree is stubborn, and while I finally position them both in a way that keeps them in place, it won’t be enough to keep the place from becomingan ice cube in the next few hours. They will, however, slow the inevitable and hopefully buy me the time I need to find help.
I scan the room, looking for anything else that could possibly help Kasey, but there’s nothing left to do.
Without giving myself the chance to change my mind and curl up beside Kasey, I leave the cabin.
The chill hits me with violent force the second I step outside, but the wind is mild, and I’m layered up enough not to freeze instantly. The boots are a lifesaver. There are roughly eight inches of snow, and without the sturdier shoes, I wouldn’t be able to walk through it.
Not much light emanates from the cabin, but it might as well be the sun compared to the darkness that consumes me as I make my way down the drive. Even if trees didn’t cover the sky, the clouds would hide the moonlight, leaving me to take my chances in the dark wasteland.
Wind and snow rustle the leaves around me, and the snapping of twigs echoes every few seconds from places hopelessly out of sight. I’d been so concerned with the cold itself that thoughts of wild animals or other weak trees falling hadn’t even crossed my mind.
Even now that the thought occurs, it’s Kasey I worry about.
Another tree could hit the cabin, or a hungry coyote could stumble upon her there.
All the more reason to keep going.
The cabin has disappeared from behind me, and based on what I remember from my drive here, I can’t be far from the main road.
With rapidly numbing fingers, I pull my phone from my pocket. It takes several seconds to maneuver it out, but I finally manage. The screen lights up, and though it’s relatively dim, it seems blinding in the dead of night.
Still no signal.
My battery is at fifteen percent, which should be plenty if all I do is make a call once I finally have a signal.
I tuck the phone back into my pants pocket—reserving my jacket pockets for keeping my hands warm—and force myself to continue moving.
Even with my hands shielded from the wind, my fingers are burning from the cold. My feet, which are constantly buried in the dense, wet snow, aren’t much better. The boots make moving through the snow possible, but they can only do so much to keep the freezing water from soaking in.
The trees on either side of me begin to thin as I reach the main road, filling me with as much dread as relief.
It’s just as dark and isolated as the driveway.
There are no streetlights, no signs, and absolutely no cars. Snow plows haven’t even been through here yet, and I have no idea how I’ll manage to get help to Kasey.
But I’ll figure it out. I have to.
I reach for my phone, but the use of my hands is severely limited. I can’t feel my fingers, and while they move on command, it’s an odd sensation to not have any physical feeling of the movement. It makes digging my phone out of my pocket even more challenging.
When I do finally manage, it’s all for nothing.
