by S. M. Shade
“No, not usually.” But the small amount I’ve seen tells me this isn’t a normal storm. Good thing I’m prepared. I dig through the hall closet and return with two battery powered lanterns and a weather radio.
Switching on the radio, Leah and I listen to the latest report. Worry etches her face when they announce most of the state is without power, not just us. The temperature has shifted just enough to change the snow to ice and we aren’t even halfway through. It’s going to get much worse before it gets better.
My phone pings with a text from Dare.
Dare: This shit is going to get bad.
Me: I know. We have a generator for heat. It’ll be fine.
Dare: Take care of her.
Me: I will. Do you have a way to heat?
Dare: No. Heading to Landon’s since they do.
Me: Take care. I’ve got this.
“Let me guess, Derek?” Leah asks.
“Yeah, he’s taking Ayda and Ollie to Landon’s since he has a fireplace.”
She nods, and I can see the anxiety in her face. “Hey, we’re fine. We have enough food and firewood to last a month. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not,” she lies, heading to the kitchen. “At least the stove is gas, even if the furnace isn’t,” she calls back, banging some pots and pans around.
“Water heater too, so we have hot water. What are you doing?”
“Making some oatmeal and coffee. We should have something warm before we go outside.”
“You aren’t—
“I’d like to see you stop me. Now, do you want peaches or cinnamon in your oatmeal?”
Somebody help me before I tie this stubborn girl to my bed.
An hour later, our stomachs full of warm food, we venture outside.
“Holy shit,” Leah breathes, gazing around the property. I couldn’t have said it any better.
There’s a thin layer of snow covering the ice, turning the world a pure white. A heavy mist hangs over everything, making it hard to see more than a few yards ahead. Branches are scattered around us, and we can hear the creak and split of wood as the wind blows the weakened trees. There are two trees that could hit the house if they fall, one that could strike the kitchen, and a massive one which could take out my bedroom as well as Leah’s. I’ll have to keep an eye on that, especially if the ice doesn’t stop soon.
“Do you see the power lines?” I ask, pointing to the driveway.
“Yeah, they’re dead though, right?” she asks nervously.
“Yes, and hopefully the power won’t come back on until they’re fixed, but steer clear just in case.”
My foot slides and I almost go down. Leah grabs my arm, and I chuckle. “You realize I’d just take you down with me right? Your tiny ass isn’t going to save me.”
She slips, and I grab her, making us both laugh. “I don’t think either of is going to make it,” she giggles.
It takes us almost ten minutes of careful footsteps, sliding, and laughing, to get to the barn. The animals are fine, but we add more straw to their pens before heading to the chicken coop.
As I expected, the water dish is frozen. If I don’t want to have to come out here every few hours to dump and refill it, I need to figure something out. Leah follows me to my workshop where I grab a cinderblock and a drill. I should tell her to go inside and get warm since there’s nothing else she can do, but I kind of like having her with me. Plus, she’s a stubborn little shit who probably wouldn’t listen anyway.
She watches as I drill a hole in the side of the block, attach a bracket to the inner surface, and install a lightbulb. Running the cord through the drilled hole, I plug it into the cord which stretches out to the generator. I place a stepping stone over the block and put the water container on top. The warmth of the light should keep the water from freezing.
I haven’t done anything a Jr. High shop student couldn’t manage, but her eyes shine with awe. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that women love men who are good with their hands, and apparently Leah is no exception.
By the time I get the second generator moved near the house and run a cord inside, my hands are numb even through my leather gloves and Leah’s nose is bright red. “Good enough for now,” I mumble and head inside.
We only have two available outlets from the generator, and I glance around trying to judge what is the most vital to keep running. The fridge is a no brainer, plus one space heater. We’ll just have to stay in the living room. Between the small heater and the fireplace, it’ll be warm enough.
“Do you have anything you want to charge?” I ask her. “Do it now, before we need to run the heater.” It’s still warm inside, but as the day goes on, I know it’ll get harder to keep that way.
Leah pauses and her lips purse as she considers it. Finally, she retrieves her laptop and plugs it in. “We should charge our phones, too. The landline is down,” she points out.
Nodding, I sit on the couch to remove my boots. I’m suddenly aware of the position I’m in. Stuck inside with Leah for who knows how long. I’m assuming two days or so by the last weather report. There’s not much I can do in my workshop without power and it’s freezing in there as well. What the hell are we supposed to do all day?
Ice ticks off the large plate glass window in the living room while Leah curls up on the couch with a throw blanket and her notebook. Breathing a sigh of relief, I head upstairs to my room. The house isn’t too cold yet, and I plan to stay upstairs while I can.
The problem is there’s nothing to do and I’m not an idle type of guy. That was one of the things that bothered me the most when I was living on the street. Having nothing to do, nowhere to go. But the lack of responsibility is what kept me from losing my shit. After everything that happened in Afghanistan and the way I failed the main person I was supposed to protect—my wife—I never wanted anyone to depend on me again. I like it out here, alone, where I can’t form bonds with anyone and nobody can get attached to me.
Now I’m hiding in my room like a scared child during a thunderstorm because of a little girl. Okay, maybe she’s not a little girl, but she’s too young for me. Not to mention she’s my complete opposite. She’s all enthusiasm and sunshine to my apathy and gloom. I know that’s what draws me to her, but I can’t act on it. I can’t do that to Kathi.
I manage to kill about four hours before returning to the living room where Leah is curled up on the couch, asleep, her tablet and notebook lying on the floor beside her. The fire has dwindled and the room is freezing. Before I build it back up, I grab a blanket from the closet and toss it over her. A soft smile blooms on her face as she snuggles into it, releasing a satisfied sigh.
God, she looks beautiful and innocent and like everything good in the world that I’ve been missing out on. I don’t know how it happened. How she crawled under my skin so quickly, but I have to find a way to get her out. The room still struggles to heat up after I stoke the fire so I connect the little space heater and hang a thick blanket in the doorway leading to the hall. That should trap most of the heat in here. I guess we’re camping out in the living room until this is over.
The animals are fine when I go out to check on them, but I barely make it back inside without busting my ass. The ice is still falling and the woods have a strange quality, sort of gauzy and dim in the late evening gloom. Ice hangs thick from everything and I can hear the cracking and splitting of branches that tells me some of the trees aren’t going to survive the night.
I eye the trees that could potentially strike the house as if warning them to stay right where they are. The one over Leah’s room worries me the most. It’s a massive old tree that could do a whole lot of damage. She’s not going back in that room until this shit is over.
According to the weather radio, we still have most of the night to go. I’m not aware that Leah is awake and listening behind me until she asks, “Did they say the whole state is blacked out?”
Anxiety rings in her voice. “Most of the state and some of Ill
inois and Kentucky as well.” From the way they were talking, I don’t think the forecasters have ever seen anything like it. Nearly three entire states without power from the strongest ice storm ever recorded in this area. This isn’t going to be easily resolved by the power crews. I have a feeling we’d better get used to the lack of power. I’m so glad I was prepared.
Leah goes to the window and gasps at the sight of the power lines weighed down so heavily they nearly touch the ground. The ones that fell earlier are buried in ice and not visible anymore. For the first time, I see a flash of fear in her eyes. “This isn’t a normal ice storm, is it?”
She looks up at me with wide eyes.
I want to set her mind at ease but none of the news is good at this point, so I decide distracting her is the way to go. “No, we’re going to be trapped for a while, but we’re well prepared. Will this lantern be enough light for you to make some dinner before it’s full dark?”
“Yeah, I can do it.”
As I hoped, she’s more at ease when she has something to focus on. While she rattles around in the kitchen, I grab pillows and blankets, and an extension cord for the living room. If we’re going to be trapped for a while, we might as well make the best of it.
Less than an hour later, Leah emerges from the kitchen with two steaming bowls of chicken and dumplings. “Wow, it warmed up in here,” she remarks, placing the bowls on the coffee table.
“I figured if I got it hot enough, we could unplug the heater for a bit and plug in the TV and satellite instead. Catch the news and maybe a movie.” I shrug.
“Will the satellite work in this?” she asks, gesturing out the window where the storm continues.
“No idea. Guess we’ll find out.”
The answer is no. At least it doesn’t work until I think to take a bucket of hot water outside and dump it on the dish connected to the back of the house. After melting off most of the ice and chiseling away the rest, the signal can get through.
It’s full dark when I go back inside and shake the ice pellets from my hair. Leah is dressed in sweats and a pair of bright red fuzzy socks. She sits in the center of the couch with a blanket tucked around her legs.
“Some of the channels are still fuzzy, but look what’s just starting,” she says, and I can’t help but grin at the excitement in her voice. It’s like nothing can dull her happiness no matter the situation. If only I could feel that way for one day.
“What is it?” I ask, taking a seat beside her.
“The Stand.” Her mouth drops open as she turns to me. “Have you never seen it?”
“Nope.”
“It’s amazing. Well, everything Stephen King does is amazing, but this is one of my favorites. It’s long though.” She tosses the blanket over my legs as well. “Like, six hours long.”
“We have nothing but time,” I murmur, and she grins, turning up the volume and settling in beside me.
The movie is actually broken into three parts and by the time the first part ends, the sound of falling ice has ceased. Leah gets up and stretches. Her sweatshirt climbs her back giving me a view of the creamy skin of her lower back. My cock gives a little jerk inside my pants. This girl is fucking killing me. Who the hell gets turned on from seeing a chick’s back?
“Sounds like the ice has stopped,” she remarks, making her way to the door. With a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she steps out onto the porch. I take the opportunity to go take a piss and get my urges under control. When I return, she’s standing on the porch with a nervous expression.
It’s dark, but we can still see how screwed we are. I might have an easier time in the morning when I need to care for the animals, since snow is starting to cover the ice. It might at least be good for some traction.
“It’s creepy,” she breathes, her voice small. “Like in The Stand.”
She jumps when my sudden laughter echoes through the night. “There are no dead bodies or killer viruses out there,” I assure her.
Coyotes pick that moment to start howling and she almost tramples me trying to get back inside. “Well, there’s something out there! Stop laughing at me!” Her hands go to her hips and she frowns at me.
I can’t help it. I just laugh harder. She looks so fucking cute all pissed off and afraid. Shutting the door behind us, I put my palm on the small of her back, guiding her back to the living room. “You know the coyotes never come close. They’re more afraid of you.”
“I doubt that,” she grumbles.
Just as we’re getting comfortable on the couch, a loud crash shakes the ground. Panic widens her eyes as she exclaims, “What the fuck was that?”
“One of the big trees out back. I’ll check it out.”
Her hand darts out and wraps tightly around my wrist. “I’m going with you. You aren’t leaving me alone here!”
“I was just going to the back window where I can see. Come on,” I reassure her, leading her through the dark, cold house. I grab a handheld spotlight from the hall closet and shine it out the back window.
“Oh, no,” she breathes.
I don’t know how old the tree was, but it was massive and now we have a view of its roots pointing toward the sky. It was far enough away from the house not to be a problem, but there are plenty of trees that are closer.
“All that ice is heavy. And the ground is saturated. With the wind picking up, they’re going to start falling like dominoes,” I predict.
As if to prove my point, we hear another crash in the woods, farther away this time.
“The trees around the side of the house. They could come through the roof, couldn’t they?”
“It’s possible, but as long as we stay out of the bedrooms, we’ll be fine.”
“At least it’s almost over.”
I don’t respond. She hasn’t gotten a good look at what’s going on outside. The storm may be ending, but we aren’t going anywhere for a while.
Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I guide her back to the living room. This is exactly the type of situation I didn’t want to end up in. Having another person’s safety in my hands again. It’s been my worst fear since I came home from the Middle East. So why am I not stressing out over it? Taking care of Leah just seems to come natural. It feels right.
Chapter Nine
Leah
We’re halfway through the movie and all I can focus on is the feel of Tucker’s body right beside mine. The man gives off heat like a furnace and damn, he smells good. He always seems to smell of a combination of sawdust, soap, and something else I can’t place. He’s loosened up so much around me lately, actually holding a conversation instead of trying to escape me as fast as he can.
Of course, there’s nowhere for him to go at the moment, so he doesn’t have a choice and you can believe I’m taking advantage of the opportunity. No matter how much his actions show he isn’t interested in me, his face doesn’t lie. His eyes follow me and more often than not, when I look at him, he’s already looking at me. Though he tries to play it off and pretend he’s looking behind me, I see the heat in his eyes.
He wants me. He just doesn’t want to want me. I assume it’s because of Derek. I don’t want to cause problems between two friends, but I’m a grown woman and Derek can’t control who I see.
I think back to Ayda’s advice to go after what I want. I’ve never had a problem being the forward one or making the first move and this time is going to be no exception. I remember that “accidental kiss” and I want so much more with this rough, solemn man.
As the room gets colder, I move closer to him, and he doesn’t object. At one point, his arm wraps around me and he tucks the blanket around us tighter. By the last hour of the movie, we’re curled up together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand rubs my back every time I jump as another tree falls. It’s like listening to bombs go off every few minutes right outside and wondering if the next will tear through the house.
I should be worried, but wrapped in his arms, I can’t seem to
give a shit about what’s going on around me. I must be a little too comfortable, because the next thing I know, the room is full of light.
Tucker is still cuddled up with me on the couch, our bodies wrapped together in the blanket. It feels almost cold enough to see your breath, but I couldn’t care less. I’d be happy to stay in this spot forever.
Unfortunately, the weather radio chooses that moment to blare its alarm. Tucker’s eyes pop open and it takes him a second to realize where he is. Mourning the loss of his warm body, I jump up and shut off the weather radio. It was only warning of sub-zero wind chills today. We could’ve done without the rude awakening.
Tucker gazes at me for a moment then gets to his feet and starts building the fire. “Good morning to you too,” I murmur, and head to the kitchen to put some water on for coffee. I hear the front door slam then the generator start. Through the kitchen window, I see Tucker’s back as he heads to the barn to take care of the animals.
It’s taking him forever to get there one careful step at a time and while I feel like I should help, he obviously doesn’t want to be around me this morning. I mean, I get that he let his guard down with me a bit, but we only cuddled. He doesn’t have to be an ass about it.
It seems to be par for the course though. This is what he does. He lets me in a little, gets a little closer, then quickly retreats as if I burned him.
Even though the kitchen warms a bit after I put a pan of biscuits in the oven, I still shiver while making breakfast. I realize how lucky we are to have a gas stove. At least we can still have warm food while we’re trying not to freeze.
When he returns from the barn, I have our plates sitting on the coffee table in the living room which has warmed up considerably.
“Thanks,” he grunts as he picks up the plate and scarfs down three sausage and egg biscuits in less time than it takes me to eat one. Without another word, he grabs his coat again. So, I guess we’re back to this.