Addy
I’ve seen snow before. But I have never seen such bright, sparkly snow. It feels like something out of a Technicolor dream. Part of me wonders if orc orgasms cause side effects, such as seeing everything in a shiny new way. Looking out at Leif’s yard, there’s snow as far as I can see. No sign of his truck, of a road, or of any civilization. We could be the last two people on the planet.
Which wouldn’t be so bad right now. There’s the Quill family too, keep things interesting for us. Shivering, I wish I had snowpants that actually fit me. Tromping through the hip-deep snow in Leif’s sweatpants with my cute kitten heel boots from the party last night isn’t a recipe for longevity outside. But I was hoping to find the perfect tree for him before he wakes up.
It was hard to leave him there. Still strong and defiant looking, yet looking so peaceful. Thick, lusciously soft lips, sharp features demanding loyalty, and tusks that should scare me as they shine in the early morning light. The desire to snuggle into him, straddle him, kiss him awake—all the options all at once—weighed on me more like need than want.
But I really want to find the perfect tree for him.
Later—could be minutes, could be hours—time has lost all meaning. I’m frozen to the bone, and I’m barely off the porch. There’s a squirrel chittering in a tree; pretty sure it’s laughing at me. I’d probably laugh at myself, too, if I weren’t shivering so hard. Turning back to admit defeat, Leif stands in the doorway, leaning on it like the winner of one of those clocky-clock challenges, holding a steaming mug of something in his hand.
I can’t get back fast enough. I try so hard, in fact, that I fall on my face. The only sound besides the crunch of snow is the slight huff of Leif trying not to laugh at me. The squirrel behind me doesn’t hold back its laugh.
“Trying to escape?” He asks as he helps me stand.
Now I huff out, or I try to. My lips don’t want to work.
After he’s helped dust the snow off of me, and brought me back inside, I’m warming up in front of the fire—again—with a giant mug of chai and wrapped in the blanket we slept on last night. “This seems to be my spot,” I say as I sip my chai. My tastebuds are so happy to have the crisp, spicy tea again. Last night’s sugar fest was…a lot.
“I was thinking the same. Maybe if you stop trying to give yourself hypothermia, you could have a different spot.”
“I thought I’d surprise you by finding a tree,” I say, rolling my eyes at his exaggeration of hypothermia. Something Poppy said creeps back into my mind—that he works for search and rescue. It’s possible he knows what he’s talking about, but I still think it’s hyperbole.
“We’ll find one together, right after you eat.” It’s silly to think his words strike a chord in me, especially after we discussed this last night. But it feels like a big deal—getting a tree together. I’m definitely blaming the post-orc-orgasm on these ooey-gooeyfeelings. Last night was amazing, but it was just…for fun, because we’re stuck together in a blizzard. Right? Nothing to see here, folks; move along with your lives post-blizzard.
Except.
Sauntering over to me, plate steaming with a perfectly fried egg on toast, with a small bowl of bright red cherry tomatoes and chopped cucumbers like a little breakfast salad, I lose the plot of my existential pondering.
Gimme all the breakfast served by a hot orc. In fact, gimme the orc, too. The noise my stomach makes when I take the first bite is embarrassing. There’s no denying the late-night workout I had left me famished. Leaving my embarrassment behind, I tuck in. Leif grunts in approval.
The thundering of tiny feet through the house catches my attention. I’d completely forgotten about the Quill family! A flurry of sneezes announces their arrival in the room as they head immediately to the pillows still on the floor. “They really like soft things, don’t they?”
“It’s a shame they need to go back to their home outside,” he says as he kneels before them, hand on his thighs, looking like a parent trying to reprimand their kid but unable to keep a straight face. I mean, how could you not? These tiny hedgehogs, with their beetle-black eyes, look at him with devotion while also demanding that they be kept on his pillow! Now it’s my turn to stifle a laugh.
“Out,” he says, pointing to the front door. The biggest one sneezes in protest. But they let him pick them up! He carries them gently in his massive arms—they look like tiny stuffed animals!—to the door, head down whispering to them as he takes them outside.
That might just be the sweetest thing I’ve ever witnessed. And that is holding a high bar, especially watching him last night in his Santa costume with the kids. My ovaries are having a field day, and I can’t argue with them.
Fed and warmed up, Leif pulls out some waterproof pants and giant boots for me so we can go get a tree. He heads outside to shovel while I get dressed. I can barely make it to the back door; everything is so big on me. There’s no way.
One step out the back door and I’ve flopped forward again, tripping over these giant boots. That same huff of a laugh from Leif, as he says, “Okay.” As if we’ve had an entire conversation in the space of time it has taken me to wrestle back to my feet. In a heartbeat, he’s back on the porch beside me, hands me the axe as he scoops me up, and walks me out into the glittery snow.
Have I mentioned that while I’m bundled up to the point of not being able to move, he’s barely wearing clothes? I mean, he has on tight jeans that hug his tree trunk thighs like they were painted onto him, and a maroon-colored Henley shirt, boots, and that’s it. No coat. No hat. No gloves or mittens. Nothing snow or waterproof.
“Do you believe in the Solstice magic?” I ask, snug in his arms. The look he gives me is all the answer I need—his brows furrow in an are you serious? sort of way.
“Ravena?” he asks. I nod, but he doesn’t continue. After my continued staring at him, he relents with an answer.
“I used to. But after wishing year after year on the Solstice to heal my father, make him better, it was obvious that either the magic didn’t care about what I wanted most, or it wasn’t real. He passed away, and I lost any faith I might still have had.”
Oh. “I felt that same way when our mother passed away—about any sort of magic or goodwill or faith. But this year feels different. Being here in Moonfang Haven, and with you, has quelled the yearning that’s been tugging at my heart for months.”
Pausing in his stride, Leif looks at me with such earnest devotion, it takes my breath away. Having nothing to do with the snowy cold air around us. A cardinal stirs in the tree overhead, releasing glittering snowflakes around us. For two hearts who don’t believe in magic, this moment certainly feels pregnant with magic and possibility.
“Are you saying the Solstice has brought us—two lonely, yearning souls—together, to make amends to us?”
“I don’t know about ‘making amends.’ But possibly? It seems stranger things have happened here on Wolfsridge Island.”
