Page 16 of Playing Dirty
Me:If I don’t check in by morning, send help to Matt’s place. Snow’s piling fast. Tell the guys I’m not playing hero, just watching out for someone who matters.
I didn’t wait for a reply.
Not this time.
The snow clung to my windshield like it didn’t plan on letting go. By the time I turned into the narrow drive up to Matt’s cabin, the snow had accumulated into high drifts. The place looked quiet. Too quiet. No chimney smoke, no porch light. Just snow falling thick as lies around it.
I barely got the truck in park before the front door cracked open.
Callie stood in the gap, wrapped in a thick quilt like it was armor. Her breath fogged in the porch light. Her lips were pale. And even from ten feet away, I could see the tremble in her hands.
“I noticed you tried to call and text.”
“Yes, I didn’t know it’d run out,” she said before I could ask. “The propane. I didn’t check the tanks until the furnace cut off.”
Her voice was too calm, too even. That tone women used when everything inside was unraveling, but they refused to let it show.
I climbed the steps, brushing snow from my coat. “You’ve got a backup heat source?”
“I’ve got a camping stove. Matt left it from our trip this summer. Still had a little fuel. And a lighter.” She held it up like proof she was handling it. “I boiled water for tea.”
That shouldn’t have made me proud. But hell, it did. Even half-frozen, she was still trying to stand on her own two feet.
“Let’s get that fire started,” I said, shouldering gently past her. The cabin was colder than the inside of my damn walk-infreezer. I could see my own breath as I stepped into the living room. “Where’s the wood?”
Just then, a blur of fur darted across the hardwood floor and skidded to a stop near the hearth. A puffed-up cat hissed at me, tail high and twitching, before shooting under the couch like I’d personally offended it.
I blinked. “Was that… a cat?”
Callie sighed, tugging the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Yeah. That’s Pixie.”
“Pixie,” I repeated, looking at the couch like the thing might launch itself back out at me. “Of course it is.”
“She came with the place,” she added. “Matt has had her forever. Doesn’t really go anywhere. Just lurks.”
“Figures,” I muttered. “I’ve always been more of a dog guy. At least a dog would’ve greeted me—or hell, at least not tried to shank me in the dark.”
Callie let out a soft laugh. “She’s just particular.”
“Yeah, well… so am I. And cats don’t usually make the cut.”
For a second, something relaxed in her face. Not quite a smile—not nothing either.
I glanced around. “Where are the logs for the fireplace?”
“Stacked by the back door. I grabbed a few logs earlier, but…”
“I got it,” I said, already moving.
Once the flames were steady, I turned back to her.
Callie was making herself comfortable on the rug near the fireplace, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. The flames cast soft gold across her cheeks, chasing off the pallor. But the room still had a long way to go before it felt anything close to safe.
“You should sleep out here tonight,” I said quietly.
Her head turned. “Excuse me?”
I nodded toward the hall. “That bedroom’s an icebox. No gas means no furnace, no hot water. This fire’s the only thing that’s gonna hold warmth.”
