“It’s just a migraine. I get them sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about. I didn’t exactly grow up in the type of house that made forts. I wanted one, though.”
She doesn’t reply. They go silent until his stomach growls and she shoots him an amused look.
They split one of the candy bars, trying to ration what they have just in case. She has a habit of touching her empty ring finger when it’s not tucked inside the blanket, and he says something before he can catch himself.
“Got someone at home waiting on you?”
“Hmm?”
He points to her finger. “You keep fiddling with it.”
“Oh. No, there’s no one. Not anymore.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be, it isn’t him I miss.” She sighs, tossing the wrapper as far as it’ll go and leaning her head against the blanket-cushioned plane hull. “I guess I’m still getting used to that finger being empty again. It hasn’t been that long yet since the divorce. How about you? Do you have someone at home?”
“No. My finger’s always been empty, and probably always will be.”
He’s not bitter about it. Just resigned. Theo accepted long ago that it’s him alone against the world. His last breakup confirmed it. He stopped wondering if he might eventually meet someone who could tolerate him without the buffer of family money as an incentive and decided he’s fine alone, better even.
“They’ll find us soon.” She changes the subject, and he’s glad for that. “Tonight. Tomorrow, at the latest.”
“Can’t miss a giant plane spread across the snow like this. Gonna find us easy. No question.”
It would be nice if they found them before he has to drag the bodies out of the cabin to keep the animals away, but he doesn’t say that to her. Truthfully, there’s something wrong about being here without handling that already, but they’re both tired, overwhelmed, and so damn cold.
It can wait. If she’s right and they get rescued tomorrow, then he won’t have to deal with it anyway.
He grabs the last blankets and spreads them out across both of them, tucking the edges in at the sides of his legs and watching her do the same.
They do not cuddle close.He can feel her breath on his skin when she turns her head to speak, but there’s a line here he’s afraid to cross, and she seems to be respecting it, too.
They’ve got enough layers to make it without needing too much body heat. For now, least least.
“Do you work with cars?” she asks, confusing him with the question.
“No, why?”
“I could smell the oil earlier.”
“I’m sorry. I was working on the tractor before I got to the airport. It crapped out again. I’m noseblind to it.”
“It’s not a bad thing. Not strong.” She cuts him off, looking away like she’s regretting this conversation. “The tractor? You’re a farmer?”
“Kinda. Much to my father’s dismay. Got a little place outside the city that I’ve been trying to fix up so I can grow things. It’s nothing special, but it’s quiet. I feed the deer and listen to the wind in the woods while trying to turn my thumb green.”
“It sounds special to me. Why would your father be upset about that?”
“That’s a whole other story we might want to save for when we’re not nearly hypothermic.”
“Fair enough,” she agrees, resting her shoulder against his. “It um…mixes well with the vanilla. Hand soap, I guess? But…it’s a good scent. I like it.”
“Oh.”
Nora thinks he smells nice.
Long-dormant endorphins perk up and make a small trip through his system at getting a compliment that feels genuine.
