by Dahlia West
“It’s hot chocolate,” she told him. “With Irish cream. Just a tiny bit, though.”
Erin knew he didn’t like to get drunk.
Jack took it from her and gazed down into it.
She wondered what he saw in its caramel colored depths. She held her breath as he searched for whatever he was looking for. She wasn’t sure he’d find it at the bottom of the cup, but it was as good a place as any to look, she supposed. She kept her eyes on her own mug—giving him time.
“How long have I been out here?” he asked.
She shrugged and cupped her hot mug between her hands. “A while.”
“It’s easy to lose track.”
“It’s easy to let go,” she replied, and immediately wished she hadn’t. “Even with all this coming,” she added quickly, changing the subject. She swept one hand toward the fallen flakes.
“It’s getting cold,” said Jack, taking a sip.
“The generator needs to be set up in the barn,” she told him, pulling her shawl tighter around her. “And the portable heaters put in the stalls and the submersible for the water trough.”
Jack turned to her, cup in hand and sipped thoughtfully. “Tough winters, huh? On a ranch.”
Erin grimaced and nodded. “Yeah. Very tough. But it’s worth it.”
She let him finish his drink in silence as she drank her own. Normally, the sound of silence at night was one of the things she loved about Thunder Ridge. Tonight, though, she was a bit uneasy, hoping for so many things.
Jack wasn’t the only one who thought about a life that maybe he couldn’t have.
She watched out of the corner of her eye as he took the final sip, upending the cup. Her whole body stiffened as he turned toward her. She shivered but not from the cold.
“Glad there wasn’t any more booze in it,” he told her, eyeing her closely. “I think I can sleep now.” Then, he reached out and took her mug from her as well, empty as it was.
Erin watched as he carried them both inside the house.
Chapter Forty-Four
‡
The cold snap had hit hard and Jack frowned at the snow that had started coming down, again, early this morning and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.
Under normal circumstances, he’d prefer to stay inside the house, lay in bed with Erin (naked, of course) and keep her warm, the way they had yesterday, until the winter storm broke.
But the horses and chickens hadn’t been fed yesterday, plus the generator powering the heaters in the barn was about to run out of gas, if it hadn’t already.
Jack set his coffee mug down on the counter and headed for the hallway, to get dressed for the trek across the ranch.
Erin followed him, rolling down her sleeves.
“Forget it,” Jack snapped at her as he fastened his coat. “You’re not going out there.”
“We could both go,” she insisted, reaching for her own coat.
Jack sighed. He appreciated her concern, but she just wasn’t thinking clearly. They couldn’t both go. For obvious reasons. Reasons he couldn’t say out loud while simultaneously putting on airs that this was just another chore that needed to be done.
“You’re not going,” he growled, and yanked her coat from her hands. He tossed it into the corner. “I’ll be right back.”
Erin pressed her lips together, like she wanted to argue but couldn’t—or didn’t dare.
Jack knelt down and rubbed Duke on the shoulder. The dog whined as though he knew what was happening. More likely he was reacting to Erin’s concern. Either way, Jack was grateful to have not one but two people who cared about him. “It’s all right, boy,” he said quietly, patting the Lab. “You stay here.”
He stood up and pulled on his gloves.
Before he could step out, Erin kissed him—hard—like she was angry or desperate. “Hurry back,” she told him.
He nodded and turned to the door.
The cold outside nearly took his breath away when he stepped outside. A heavy, white shroud covered the ground and every flat surface, with still more coming down from the sky.
Jack frowned as he started to regret the decision to wait until afternoon, for the temperatures to go up a little, because it didn’t feel that much warmer and now the snow would be hell to deal with. As he stepped down onto the ground, it was already up past his ankles. He pushed down, breaking through the slicked, icy surface and it crunched underneath the soles of his boots.
Tied to one of the columns of the front porch was a long nylon rope. Jack had never been this far out in the boonies when winter hit and he was grateful that Erin knew how to survive here, but damn if he wasn’t irritated that he was stuck dealing with this shit.
He gripped the rope, which was neon yellow, and supposedly easy to spot, at least from a short distance. But Jack knew that there would be days where they wouldn’t be able to see it even from the relative safety of the front porch. Winters were just that bad out here.
He could make out the silhouette of the barn, though, and that was good. As he made his way along the rope, the cold stung his nose and eyes and he lifted his arm to shield himself.
It was a slow trudge. Jack didn’t know exactly how long it took, since he was too bundled up to check his watch. It seemed like an hour even though he was certain it wasn’t.
He finally made it to the barn and opened the door, slamming it shut behind him. Everyone perked up, from King and Bee, even to Julio who was stuck in the coop that they’d moved into the shelter.
The generator hadn’t given out but when Jack checked the gauge it was dangerously low. He filled it with the spare can in the corner and turned the heaters on high. He could still see his breath but it was tolerable, he supposed, for the animals, at least.
He fed everyone and bedded them down. Even the goddamn pimp chicken was too cold to peck at him. Jack filled his bowl because it seemed too easy to kick the chicken when he was down. They’d wait until spring for their ultimate cage match. Jack had a few new moves he was almost ready to unveil.
The horses chowed down and Jack gave them two apples each, to make up for not having been able to come the day before. Their hay had been almost gone from their racks, but they weren’t exactly starving.
“I’ll come tomorrow,” he said, patting King’s neck. “They say the storm will break tonight. I’ll make it.”
Jack warmed his hands at the heater one final time before pep talking himself into braving the cold once more. He had to get back before the storm kicked into high gear and buried everything but the barn, and maybe the truck and tractor.
He opened the door and squeezed through it so as not to let in too much of the frigid air, and secured it behind him. The storm had gotten worse just in the few minutes he’d been outside. Visibility was down to nearly zero. He couldn’t even see the tree in the middle of the driveway. He grabbed the rope again, which was starting to ice up, and began the long, slow trudge back to the house.
It was more difficult than he was prepared for, with the temperature dropping so rapidly. He hated to think what it would be like tonight after the sun went down.
He managed to step into his own previous footsteps, which were already being obscured by fresh waves of drifting snow. His gloved hand caught on the rope more than once and it was slowing him down.
He finally made it to the tree and paused for a minute, ducking behind it to get out of the gusts. He tugged the hood of his coat farther down and sagged against the thick trunk, already tired.
He couldn’t linger, though, and he knew that. As it was it would take half the day to recover from this god-awful trek. He was warmed only by the fact that he hadn’t let Erin try it. At least she was cozy back at the house. Even if the power went out, there was the fireplace and the other generator.
He hauled himself to standing and reached for the rope again. He tried to occupy himself by counting his steps, trying to guess the distance from the middle of the driveway to the house that he could no longer see.
One hundred feet. Maybe two.
Jack was up to seven steps before a gust of wind blew so hard that it knocked him to the side.
The rope went slack in his hand.
Chapter Forty-Five
‡
Erin watched him through the glass, fingers twitching to get at her coat and follow him even though she knew it would be a stupid and reckless thing to do. She couldn’t go with him, and she knew it, and that thought upset her all the more.
Because Jack might get hurt, or lost, and if he did, it would be up to her to find him, once the storm cleared, and bring him back.
Or at least, his body.
Her throat tightened and she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, telling herself that it wouldn’t happen.
But the truth was, it might. And she couldn’t lie very convincingly, even to herself.
She was grateful, though, that she wasn’t doing this alone. This was her first winter at Thunder Ridge—first bad one, anyway. She’d bought the place in March, after the last big snowstorm. A tiny one had hit right before the spring thaw, but it had been nothing like this.
Being alone out here, in this weather, was dangerous.
Duke whined, pressing his nose to the glass pane of the door, and Erin bent to take hold of his collar and draw him back.
“It’s okay,” she told him with a confidence she didn’t really feel. She pulled him into the living room and pointed toward his bed, which he ignored entirely, of course.
The heavy drapes kept much of the cold out but Erin didn’t care as she parted them and spread them wide, giving her a good view of the barn across the way. She watched Jack’s dark, retreating form as he followed the rope she’d tied, slowly, one foot in front of the other.
She perched on the couch, never taking her eyes off him until he receded into the distance, erased by the snowfall. She checked her watch, her phone (no cell service today), and the clock on the wall as she waited impatiently.
Five minutes became ten. Ten became twenty.
She paced back and forth, dragged her eyes from the window just long enough to throw another log on the fire.
Duke lay down in front of the flames, but didn’t seem relaxed, or capable of falling asleep.
It was snowing harder now, dumping bucketfuls, it seemed, onto the already covered ground. Slowly the gray behemoth of the old barn faded until Erin could no longer see it at all. She stopped, leaned into the window, and peered out, heart thumping in her chest.
She threw on her boots, not bothering to tie them, and drew the blanket around tightly as she opened the front door.
“No!” she cried, panicked, as Duke started for it. “You stay!”
This time, the Lab made no argument, looking wild-eyed yet remaining where he was, just a few feet from the door.
Erin slipped out and the cold took her breath away. She edged to the steps, looking in every direction. “Jack!” she shouted, but her voice was lost on the wind.
When she looked down, time seemed to stop, or maybe just her heart. The safety rope was slack, not taut, and was mostly covered now by the snow.
Erin darted forward, reaching for it, almost connecting with her fingers before she hurled herself away, reason stopping her from doing something stupid. It was tempting to pull it, to reel it in, and pray for a Jack-shaped catch hanging on the other end.
But if he wasn’t there, if he wasn’t holding onto the rope this very second, it wouldn’t work. It would only move the rope, take it out of his line of sight. He needed it to survive.
A sob broke in her chest and she screamed, loudly as she could, “JACK!”
But there was no answer.
She spun and darted up the stairs, slipping on the icy patch at the top, and ramming her knee into the floor. Ignoring it, Erin dragged herself up, ran inside and into the kitchen. The phone was dead and she slammed it back into the cradle with a curse.
Casting about wildly, her eyes lit upon the junk drawer and she surged toward it. She yanked it open, nearly pulling it all the way out and spilling its contents all over the hardwood floor.
She rummaged through it and came up with several Glo-sticks, the ones she kept instead of candles because it was safer than an open flame.
Her fingers fumbled over the packaging, trying to rip it. She gave up and tore at it with her teeth. She slammed each against the counter’s edge and then shook it until a bright, orange glow shone from inside the plastic. She shoved all of them into a clear mason jar and tightened the lid to keep it from filling with snow.
Back on the porch, she looked for him again, called out, and felt herself sink further into despair when she got no response. She set the jar down on the porch rail, where it wouldn’t be covered by snow. It felt heavy enough to withstand the wind and Erin hoped to God it was. She’d keep an eye on it, though, watch over it carefully, her own emergency vigil.
Inside, she spied her coat, crumpled in the corner where he’d tossed it. She warred with herself, tempted to put it on. There were too many variables, though. Too much could go wrong. What if Jack had moved the rope in an attempt to get back to the house? If so, it wouldn’t lead to the barn anymore.
And if he’d dropped it, strayed from it, even just a few feet on either side, she’d never find him in the storm. She could walk right past him and never even know it, walk to her own death, too, if the rope didn’t lead straight to the barn anymore.
“Goddammit!” she cried and beat the wall next to the front door. “Goddammit!” As tears spilled down her face, Erin made her own way down, to the floor. She leaned her head against the glass, cold and uninviting, and kept a watchful, if not tear-blurred, eye in the direction of the barn.
Duke lowered himself, too, onto her lap and whined softly.
“He’s all right,” Erin told him as she patted his head. “He’s in the barn. Daddy’s in the barn. He’s warm. He’s safe. He’s going to stay there until the storm passes.”
Duke looked up at her with soulful eyes, as though he understood her words…and didn’t believe her.
“He’s all right!” Erin snapped. And fresh, hot tears warmed her frosted cheeks.
Chapter Forty-Six
‡
Jack lay in the bunk where he hadn’t slept for months now. He’d forgotten about the musty smell, mixed with other, unpleasant farm scents. It wasn’t bitterly cold but it wasn’t comfortable, either. He swung his leg over the edge and rubbed his face with his hand.
He passed up the horses and opened the door just enough to peek outside again. Thankfully, the snow had stopped and he could see the ice encrusted trees that surrounded the building. They glittered in the sunlight. Jack checked his watch and knew it was just past dawn.
He closed the door again, topped off the generator, and gave everyone more food before he pulled up his hood and ventured toward the house.
It must have dumped several inches because he couldn’t see the rope anymore. He could see the house, though, blanketed in snow, and made his way toward it.
The trudging was hard work and his thighs started to burn as he stomped through drifts up to his knees. He fought through the last few feet and hauled himself up the slippery steps of the front porch.
Before he reached the door, it flung open and Erin burst out. She slammed into him, nearly knocking him down. Behind her, Duke was jumping and barking excitedly.
“Hey, buddy,” Jack declared, patting the dog’s neck. “I’m here. I’m back. Did you miss me?” He turned and looked down at Erin, grinning at her. “Did you?”
But she didn’t answer.
She was clinging to him, grasping at the sides of his coat, breathing in jerks and spasms.
“Erin?”
She was shaking, hard, and didn’t answer.
“Erin?” Jack prompted again. “Hey.” But she either couldn’t or wouldn’t respond. Jack pulled her close as Erin sobbed into his shoulder.
“I thought you were dead!”
Jack picked her up at the
waist, hugging her against him while he grasped the doorknob with his free hand. He kicked the front door open with the toe of his boot and ushered the dog inside before stepping in after and shutting the house up tight.
He took Erin as far as the living room and set her down on her feet, holding her up, though, in case she couldn’t manage it on her own.
“I thought I’d have to go out there,” she sobbed. “Have to…have to…find you.”
Jack snatched the heavy blanket off the couch and drew her down to the floor, in front of the still-glowing fire. He kicked off his boots and shed his coat in record time and then pulled her tightly against him.
His energy reserves were finally zapped and he practically melted onto the blanket, along with the crusted ice on his jeans, but he still managed to keep his arms around her while she cried.
“Shhh,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her. “It takes so much more than that to kill a man like me, little bird. God’s not going to take me like that. Not in a storm.”
He didn’t tell her it was because he was a bad man and that when his time came, however it went down, it would be exactly what he deserved and nothing less.
He wouldn’t go out like Scratch, drunk and disabled in a trailer on the edge of town. Jack had risen to heights (sunk to depths?) that Scratch in his best years could only dream about.
Erin didn’t know about any of that, which was why she was so concerned about him now. If she knew the truth…well, selfish as it probably was, Jack wasn’t going to tell her the truth. He’d never had anyone care about him, not like this, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up.
He kissed her, long and slow, though Jack couldn’t get it up if his life depended on it. Not in his weakened, half-frozen state. He silently cursed himself that his cock was the only way he knew to make a woman feel better. But then, he didn’t use it to make them feel better, did he? Just to shut them up. Which, he admitted to himself, wasn’t really the same.