Page 28 of Wrecked By the Mountain Man
She’s trudging through the snow, her eyes narrowed against the biting flakes, but she’s keeping up, her chin still jutted out in defiance.
We reach the woodpile and I grab an axe and start hacking at a larger log. Penny doesn’t stand there looking pretty. She picks upa smaller axe too, and starts clearing away the snow from some of the smaller, pre-cut logs.
I can't help but give her a smile and appreciative nod.
"What are you looking at?" she screams out over the wind.
I shake my head and manage a laugh. "Nothing. It's just for the first time in years… I'm glad I'm not alone."
She pauses for a second, then smiles at me and starts to gather the logs in her arms again.
My body aches, but a powerful sense of purpose courses through me.
This isn’t just about survival. This is abouther. Her warmth, her life, her fragile, infuriating optimism.
I would do anything to keep her here.
After what feels like an eternity, we have a respectable pile of fresh logs. My arms are numb with cold and exertion, but I force myself to keep going. We need enough to last until the storm breaks and who knows how long that will be.
“Alright,” I finally gasp, dropping my axe. “That’s enough. Let’s get back in.”
We carry the logs back, each step a further test of endurance.
My lungs burn, my muscles scream in protest, but the thought of returning to that cold, dark cabin, with her huddled there in my arms, right where she fucking belongs, gives me the strength to push on.
When we finally stumble back inside, dragging the last of the logs, the cabin feels even colder than before.
Our brief venture outside has chilled us to the bone.
I set about building a new fire, a monster of a fire by the way.
Penny is still shivering violently, but hopefully now the warm flames give us hope against the encroaching cold.
Agonizingly slowly, the cabin begins to warm.
We huddle near the fire, wrapped in blankets, steaming mugs of hot tea clutched in our numb hands.
The silence is different again now. Not awkward, but a shared peace born of mutual survival.
We’ve faced death together and we fought through the despair.
That's more than I can say about myself before this beautiful woman came to be here.
Chapter 8
Penny
By the third morning, the storm finally eases into silence. Snow still presses against the windows in thick drifts, but inside the cabin, it feels almost… domestic.
Edward sits across from me at the table, scowling down at a battered chessboard he probably hasn’t touched in years, while I grin behind my mug of tea.
I'm winning, of course.
But don't tell Edward that, he gets grumpy when he loses.
Most importantly, my toes are finally warm. They're currently tucked under Edward's leg for extra heat, and for the first time since I crashed into this cabin, life feels less like survival and more like… living.
The fire is still blazing, fat logs hissing as the flames lick them down to glowing embers. We went outside yesterday to gather more wood, but I've been told I'm not allowed back out because 'the woodshed isn't an appropriate place for sex'.
