Page 30 of Mistletoe and Mayday
“Ow, ow, ow!”
He sets me back down, gentler than I expected.
His forehead creases as he studies my face. “You’re in too much pain.”
“I’m okay.” The words come out through gritted teeth, betraying the lie. My ankle throbs with each heartbeat, and the world keeps tilting at weird angles.
“This won’t work.” He turns and walks away, his footsteps crunching in the snow.
My chest tightens as his back disappears between the trees. “Sebastian?”
What the hell? Did he leave me?
The silence presses in. I hate silence.
Five minutes pass. Ten. Fifteen. The silence presses against my ears. Where is he? The cave’s entrance reveals nothing but swirling snow.
My ankle throbs. I eye the cave entrance again. Still no Sebastian.
“He’s coming back,” I say aloud, my voice strange and small in the empty cave. But my chest tightens. My breathing quickens.
He’s not coming back.
Why would he? I’m just the annoying pilot who crashed his plane and ruined his plans. The cave shrinks around me. The shadows deepen. I’m alone. Really alone. In a cave.
I’m fine with alone. Alone is my default setting. But alone with a busted ankle in the Alaskan wilderness? That’s a whole different categoryof alone.
My throat constricts. Tears burn behind my eyes. No. Not crying. Bailey Monroe doesn’t cry. I haven’t cried since I was eight and Tommy Westfield told the entire class I was a weirdo. Okay, maybe a few times after, too. But I don’t cry.
But a treacherous tear slides down my cheek, anyway. Then another. And another.
It’s been at least twenty minutes now. I clutch Vegas to my chest. Tears fall faster. I’m going to die here, alone, forgotten. My snow globe collection becoming a mysterious inheritance for a brother who never understood why I collected them in the first place.
“It’ll look good in a museum display,” I sob to Vegas. “‘The Bizarre Collection of the Weird Pilot Lady Who Died Talking to Inanimate Objects.’”
The crunch of snow outside jerks my head up. Sebastian appears in the entrance, arms full of branches, his expression morphing from concentration to alarm when he sees my face.
“Bailey?” He drops the branches and rushes to my side. “What happened? Is it your leg? Are you?—”
His thumb brushes away a tear from my cheek. The gentle touch makes something crack inside me.
I slap his chest. Hard.
“You left!” The words explode from me. “You just left. No ‘I’ll be back,’ no explanation, just gone. I thought—” My voice breaks. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”
Confusion crosses his perfect face. “I was gathering materials for a splint. For your leg. I didn’t think?—”
“That’s right. You didn’t think!” I shove at his chest, my emotions completely unraveling. “You didn’t think to tell me. You didn’t think I’d worry.” Another shove. “You didn’t think I’d assume you abandoned me to die in a freaking cave!”
Sebastian looks genuinely stunned. “I would never?—”
“How would I know that?” My voice rises. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. This whole situation is—” I hit his chest again, weaker this time.
“I’m sorry.” The words sound strange coming from him, rough and genuine. Not the polished apology of a CEO, but the awkward remorse of a man who’s realized his mistake. “I’m sorry, Bailey. I didn’t think... I’m not used to...”
Without warning, his arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest. I should push him away. I should maintain some shred of dignity. Instead, I clutch his jacket, face pressed against the fabric.
“I would never leave you to die,” he says, one hand awkwardly patting my back like he’s never comforted a crying human before. Maybe he hasn’t. “Did you really think I’d leave you?”
