by Ivy Jordan
I fell back onto the pillow behind me, letting out a long sigh. It wasn’t like I had anywhere to go, or any way of getting there, but I couldn’t stand being stuck in this bed another day.
Xander returned to my bedside with an ice pack. I shuddered as he applied the cold bag to my ankle, causing him to laugh. His eyes lifted to mine, filled with kindness, and something so sweet I could almost taste it. “So, why did you move from Hawaii? It doesn’t seem like this place, whatever it is, has very good weather?” I chuckled.
“Bethel, Maine,” he gave me our location. The name didn’t strike me as completely odd, but it wasn’t exactly familiar either. “Too many tourists,” he added.
“You didn’t have family there?” I pushed.
He shook his head, but the look on his face told me he did. He obviously left someone behind, another thing I would wonder about while he took care of me in this isolated cabin.
“Family here?” I continued my probing.
He shook his head, this time smiling with a crooked grin. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“Does that bother you?” I asked, suddenly worried I may anger him. I didn’t know this man. I didn’t know what he was capable of, what he’d snuck up in these woods to hide from. I knew enough that I should tread lightly.
“No, it’s just not fair. Not like I can ask you anything,” he chuckled.
The teasing made me laugh and lifted the tension from my soul, making me feel more at ease around him.
“I’ll make us breakfast. You just relax for a while and let the ice work its magic,” he ordered, slipping from the side of my bed to the other side of the cabin.
Chapter Five
Xander
I stared out the kitchen window at the snow covered mountain just past the glass. The gravy was starting to thicken as I slid my wooden spoon through for one last stir. Bailey, if that’s even her name, was on the couch looking through an old photo album I’d tucked under the coffee table. I turned off the propane powered camping skillet, looked over my shoulder, and had a strange feeling roll through my gut. The same feeling I’d had several times over the last few days.
Bailey pushed her long red hair away from her face, showing off her sleek profile as I brought her a plate. “Thank you,” she said softly, looking up at me with a look of embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind,” she muttered.
“No, of course not,” I smiled, sitting down beside her on the couch. I leaned in, checking out the photos that she was browsing through. “Those are my SEAL brothers,” I said proudly, watching carefully how her smile creeped up higher on one side of her face. A few freckles adorned her cheeks, perfectly positioned on each side like a masterpiece. That feeling rolled through my gut again, nearly leaving me breathless.
I knew she was younger than me, but probably not by much. She had to be close to thirty, if not already. At thirty-five, I wasn’t exactly old, but her sweet, innocent features made me worry I was having feelings for someone far too young.
“How long were you a SEAL?” she asked.
“Eight years,” I responded.
I watched her eyes drift away from mine and back to the photos. I hadn’t looked through the album myself for years, but I drug it around with me everywhere I went. It was one of the few personal items I had that meant anything to me.
“Who’s that?” she asked, pointing to a picture of me and Liam. He was a short, stocky guy that looked like he spent more time at the gym than anyone else I knew. “Liam,” I chuckled as I thought about some of the crazy shit we’d done over the years. He was a real firecracker, the nice guy in the muscle-bound body, but he had a wild side like me.
I scooted closer to her, taking in the faint scent of vanilla still left on her skin. We looked through the album together, while I reminisced about the ‘good ole days’ and shared stories with her that I hadn’t shared with anyone before that wasn’t in them. “You think you know someone in the military?” I asked, thinking maybe the album peaked her interest due to a locked-up memory or two. She shrugged, her expression dangled with frustration, and I knew she was fighting back tears.
The last three nights had been tough, but Bailey proved to be tougher. She’d quit tearing up when she couldn’t answer a question and even quit asking for my help to the bathroom. She was strong and independent, and I was growing to really enjoy that about her. That umbrella, the one she threatened me with that first night, was now her cane, and it took everything I had not to chuckle when I saw her hobbling around the cabin with it. “I know there’s a couple Navy bases not too far from here,” I explained the reasoning behind my question. They weren’t far, three hours or so, and I knew them both well. Bethel was a nice secluded part of Maine, one usually only frequented by tourists for the snow-capped mountains in the winter. It was a very likely place for a Navy family to migrate.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I consoled her with a pat on the back. Shit, you are gruff, Xander. Why can’t I handle crying women?
“It’s okay. I just feel so lost and alone,” she sniffled, wiping away the tear that escaped.
“Why don’t we try to jog your memory?” I suggested.
Her smile was faint, but present, so I took that as a yes. “Good. Let’s start simple,” I sat on the edge of the couch and reached for my plate. “Do you like biscuits and gravy?”
I was hoping she hadn’t remembered what good biscuits tasted like; mine were two days old, kept in the bread box on my counter. “I don’t know,” she giggled, reaching for her fork. I watched her as she took her first bite. Her expression was hard to read as she swallowed the stale biscuit coated with my famous gravy. The guys used to lap it up when we were deployed, saying it would make an old shoe taste good.
“I like it,” she smiled, taking another bite.
We’d spent a lot of time talking over the last few days, but mostly about the weather, about why I’d moved out here, and her injuries. She was getting better, but still not fit to make it down the snow covered mountain side. One slip, and she was bound to break something, and with her stubborn independence, I knew she wouldn’t agree to me carrying her down.
“When you think about food, is there anything that comes to mind, something you crave, or remember eating?” I asked, hoping the topic would at least bring some light onto her past, for her, and for me. The mystery that surrounded her had me more than a little intrigued. I wanted to know—needed to know—who this beautiful woman was and why she was out here all alone.
Her eyebrows pushed down on her face, and she wrinkled her nose as she stared at her plate of food. “Lobster rolls?” she said curiously, and then laughed.
Her laughter was a light that brought power into the cabin, no electricity needed. “Well, that makes sense. We are in Maine,” I teased.
“Maine?” she questioned.
“Yes, why?” I leaned up to look into her eyes. Confusion swept through them. I hadn’t realized that she wasn’t aware what state we were in. “Does that not sound right to you?” I questioned, fearing she was a tourist, someone who’d go home, far away after healed, that I’d never see again.
It was nice having someone around the cabin to my surprise. I hated to think of her leaving.
“I-uh. I mean, I’m not sure,” she stammered.
“Maybe you’re vacationing here?” I suggested.
“Maybe,” she sighed. “But, alone?”
There was no ring on her finger, nor any untanned line on her skin to represent one being worn recently. “You’re not married, obviously,” I stated, eyeing her left hand.
Bailey tucked her hand under her thigh, her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink that set off her cute freckles, and she appeared anxious. “I guess not,” she smiled nervously.
“So what do you remember about lobster rolls?” I asked, deciding to change the topic from her availability back to food.
“I dunno,” she set her plate down on the coffee table and leaned back onto the couch.
> “That’s okay. It’s a start,” I encouraged.
I noticed her looking towards the window. It was starting to snow again, although a lot lighter than before. “It will ease up soon,” I promised, even though I wasn’t certain by the radio forecast I’d heard earlier that morning. ‘Another burst of cold, and more snow,’ the weather man reported with a perkiness that told me he was somewhere warm, with power, and not suffering through this storm one bit.
“What about movies, books, TV shows, anything you can think of that you liked, didn’t like?” I continued to push her to remember something, anything.
“What do you like?” she asked.
“I don’t watch much TV up here, but I have a stack of movies I watch from time to time,” I admitted, reaching into the table drawer beside me and pulling out my stash. I handed them to Bailey for her to look through, but nothing seemed to jog her memory. “I know that’s probably not your genre,” I said, putting the old war movies back where they were stashed.
“What about books?” she asked. I chuckled. I wasn’t much of a reader. If it wasn’t instructions for cleaning a new gun, a map, or of the political nature, I didn’t find any interest in it.
“I’m not a reader,” I admitted.
“Oh.”
“You’re in good shape, great shape actually. You must go to the gym,” I acknowledged, trying not to linger too long on the curve of her calves or the muscle that indented into her thigh as she sat.
“I don’t remember a gym,” Bailey grunted.
“Well, you were out here on this mountain all alone, so maybe you’re just an adventurer. I’m certain if you’ve spent much time hiking, you’re bound to have scars to prove it,” I noted, immediately stretching out my arm to show her my four-inch scar.
“What happened?” she asked, her fingers sliding back and forth carefully along the tough skin.
“I got caught up in a vine while carrying a buddy out of a blast zone, fell, and ripped my arm open on a piece of shredded metal,” I divulged with pride.
“So you’re a hero,” her eyes lit up as her smile showed appreciation.
My cheeks started to burn. The last time I blushed, I couldn’t have been more than nineteen. It was my first visit to a strip club and all the guys initiated me with a lap dance. I was never comfortable around women, not even then. But I was comfortable around Bailey.
“I’m not a hero, just lucky enough to serve with a large handful of them,” I declared.
My phone lit up and buzzed across the table. Fuck, I got a signal. I reached for it, noticing Liam’s name across the screen. “Holy shit,” I exclaimed as I answered.
“How you doin? I heard there was a hell of a storm beating the shit out of your neck of the woods,” Liam blurted.
“You have no idea brother, no fucking idea,” I sighed with relief to hear his voice, to hear anyone’s voice.
“I was worried about ya. I don’t know why—you can take care of yourself,” he chuckled.
“Yes, I can, never a need to worry,” I assured him. “I need you to do me a favor though,” I quickly added before my signal was lost again.
“Anything,” Liam vowed.
“I don’t have any way to charge this bastard, and it’s nearly half dead. Not sure when the signal will come back, but I need to know if anyone’s looking for a woman, one who was hiking when the storm hit,” I explained.
“Sure thing. What’s her name? She there with you?” he questioned.
“She doesn’t remember, that’s the thing. She hit her head pretty good, she’s fine though, safe, and yes, with me,” I told him.
“Okay. I’ll look into it, and I’ll get back with you soon. You sure you’re alright?” he asked.
“I’m doing great. I just can’t get her off this mountain right now, and I would sure like to let someone know she’s safe,” I reported.
“Gotcha,” Liam said, his voice already starting to break out.
We said our goodbyes, and I wasn’t sure if he even heard me before I hung up. Fuck, the signal was gone, and for how long, I had no idea.
Bailey’s eyes were wide and hopeful. I hated to tell her that the signal was lost again, so I just sat the phone back onto the table and offered her a smile. “He’ll find something out. He’s one hell of a sleuth,” I laughed.
Bailey seemed content with being in contact with the outside world, mainly because she had no idea that Liam was in Texas, over two thousand miles away, and that most of the town was probably out of power. It wasn’t going to be an easy task for Liam to find out anything, especially with no name and no real way to contact local authorities. Still, I knew he’d figure it out. The man was smart, the kind of smart that should’ve gone to Harvard, not risking their life in the SEALS.
Chapter Six
Bailey
A weight had lifted from my shoulders knowing that someone was looking for answers. Whoever this Liam was, Xander seemed fond of him, and I was growing quite fond of Xander. I’d learned to trust him, even though I wouldn’t ask for his help when I need it, like now. It had been three nights of sleeping in my torn clothing, dirty bandages, and filth from that mountain side. I knew I had to stink, but I wasn’t sure how to ask about a bath. Xander had been so good to me, so helpful. I hated to intrude even further. He obviously came out here to be alone, and here I was, messing that up.
“Are you finished?” he asked, motioning towards my plate. My belly was still rumbling, and I didn’t want to waste his effort, even though I lied when I said I liked it. The biscuits were chewy, and the gravy was so spicy it burnt my throat going down and left what felt like a hot coal roasting in my belly.
“I’m going to finish it. I just haven’t gotten my appetite back yet,” I smiled.
He chuckled, lifting from the couch with his empty plate in his hand. “You don’t have to lie,” his blue eyes busted through my façade, causing me to laugh. I couldn’t stop once I started and ended with a snort that immediately sent my hand over my face in embarrassment.
“It’s just a little spicy,” I admitted, calming myself as he broke his eyes locked onto mine. “But I’m gonna finish it,” I declared.
“No way. Let me make you something else,” he insisted, reaching for my plate.
I reached out, stopping him before he could take it away, my hand resting on his. I hesitated; the roughness of his skin made mine tingle, and a feeling stirred in my gut that I couldn’t deny. He’s your hero, your savior, Bailey, that’s all. I shrugged off the feeling, refusing to fall prey to my own desires. I didn’t even know who the hell I was. What business did I have thinking of him that way? I wasn’t married—he’d pointed that out clearly enough with the absence of a ring—but I could be with someone, in love with another man, one who was searching frantically everywhere for me in this storm.
“There is something you could do for me,” I coaxed.
His hand released the plate, and I quickly took mine away from his. “Anything,” he smiled.
“I really need a bath,” I pleaded.
“Of course. I’ll boil you some water,” he agreed. “Let me go grab some firewood first, okay?” he added.
I nodded, grateful for this strong, handsome man who’d opened up his private home to me and cared for me with such grace and kindness. “Thank you,” I smiled, trying not to stare directly into his hypnotizing eyes. Beneath that scruff was a beautiful man, one that tugged at my heart strings like a musician on a harp. Shit, stop it, Bailey!
“It can wait if the weather is too bad,” I stressed, staring out the window. The snow was coming down harder than earlier, no longer just a flurry, but a steady flow of white fluff that turned the daylight dark.
“Nonsense. We need firewood anyway. It’s only gonna get worse,” he informed me, news he’d neglected to share before.
I sighed, falling back onto the couch, realizing that I may be stuck here for a while longer.
Xander piled on his heavy coat, hat, and gloves, and pulled open the f
ront door. A gust of cold air forced its way inside, chilling me to the bone. It quickly closed, but left behind a chill in the room that made me shiver. I reached for the blanket on the arm of the couch and curled up inside it. The smell of burnt wood—birch, for some reason I recalled—was heavily mixed with a musky scent that Xander carried. I brought it to my nose, took a long whiff, and felt a strange comfort by its aroma.
The fire was still crackling, and a small flame flickered above the last log. I assumed if I wasn’t there, he wouldn’t have kept it so warm inside, as he was much more adapted to the elements than I was, obviously as I shuddered under the warm blanket. Xander swung an axe, breaking large pieces of log into smaller pieces just outside the window. The wind was whistling so loud it sounded as if long fingernails were sliding across the cold glass. I hated that he was out there in the cold and that I was stuck inside on the couch unable to help.
What was I doing up here in the mountains? If there was a man in my life, wouldn’t he have been here too?
My eyes closed as my head rested against the soft cushion of the couch. I tried to remember something, anything, but the only image in my mind was Xander. The last three days spent with him caring for me had made him my past, present, and my future. The feelings weren’t real; I knew they couldn’t be. There was a real past, a real present, and a real future waiting for me outside that front door.
Frigid air busted back into the cabin as Xander entered. He carried a large stack of freshly chopped wood with what appeared to be little effort in his strong arms. “It’s nippy out there,” he joked, transporting the load of wood to the tile by the fireplace. I watched as he placed a couple logs carefully over the flames and then poked at them until the small defeated flame burst up with a new life. “That should do it for now,” he boasted, brushing the snow from his coat before removing it and hanging on the hook near the warmth of the fire. “We’ll get you a bath, and then I’ll gather more for the night,” he announced.