I groaned and rolled over. Time to face the day.
I pulled on sweatpants and a worn flannel shirt. It was one of the few pieces of clothing I actually bothered with at home. Living alone meant I could usually wander around in my fur or just pants, but I figured Maya probably didn’t need to deal with that particular reality of Yeti domesticity.
When I emerged from my room, she was already in the kitchen.
She’d found the coffee and if I were honest, I’d have done the same in her position. Still wearing my clothes, she stood on her toes trying to reach the mugs on the second shelf. My shirt had ridden up, exposing a strip of pale skin above the waistband of my sweatpants. The bruise on her hip was visible, dark purple spreading across her side.
“Here,” I said, reaching over her head to grab two mugs.
She jumped, spinning around with her hand pressed to her chest. “Jesus! Warn a girl next time. You’re silent for someone so big.”
“Sorry. Yeti thing.” I set the mugs on the counter, trying not to notice how close we were standing, how good she smelled even mixed with my soap. “How’d you sleep?”
“Once I went back to bed, like the dead, actually.” She poured coffee into both mugs, adding sugar to hers. “I think my body gave up and shut down. How about you?”
“Oh, fine,” I lied. She didn’t need to know she starred in my nighttime thoughts. “The storm’s mostly over.”
She turned to look out the window, and I watched her take in the scene. The world had been transformed overnight. Everything was buried under at least three feet of pristine white snow with drifts that climbed halfway up the windows in places. The trees were so heavy with snow they looked like they belonged in a fantasy painting.
“Wow,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s a lot of shoveling.”
She smiled at that, cradling her coffee mug. “How long before the roads are clear?”
“Based on past storms, my best guess is a couple days. Plows have to work their way up from town, and the main highway gets priority.” I leaned against the counter, trying to read her expression. “Are you okay with that? I know being stuck here isn’t ideal.”
“Are you kidding? This place is amazing.” She gestured around the cabin. “Besides, it’s not like I have anywhere urgent to be. My apartment will wait, and the convention…” Maya trailed off.
“Was cancelled. I checked the website this morning. They’re trying to reschedule for next month.”
“Makes sense.” She sipped her coffee, and I caught a flicker of disappointment across her face. “I was really looking forward to it.”
“Me too.”
Our eyes met, and a silent acknowledgement of all the things we’d planned that weren’t going to happen now passed between us. Gone was our careful first meeting in a public space with the safety of crowds and noise and the ability to retreat if things got awkward.
Instead, we’d gotten a car crash and a blizzard and forced proximity.
“Well,” Maya said, breaking the moment, “at least I finally got to meet you. Even if it wasn’t quite how either of us planned.”
“Silver lining,” I agreed.
She set her mug down and stretched, wincing. “Ow. I think the adrenaline wore off. Everything hurts this morning.”
“Let me see.” The words were out before I could stop them, before I could think about whether or not it was appropriate. But she was hurt, and every instinct I had was screaming at me to help.
Maya lifted the hem of my shirt revealing the bruise on her hip. It looked worse in daylight, a violent spread of purple and blue.
“That needs ice,” I said, moving to the freezer. “And you should take some ibuprofen. Do you have any other injuries? You mentioned the airbag went off?”
Maya nodded.
“How’s your chest?” My ears twitched. Shit. Nice going Geoff. “I mean, did the airbag get you? How’s your chest from the impact?”
“It’s bruised but not too bad.” She watched me wrap ice in a towel. “You’re very calm about this. The medical stuff, I mean.”
I shrugged. “Have to be. Living up here alone, you learn first aid or you don’t last long.” I handed her the ice pack. “Hold this on your hip for twenty minutes. I’ll make breakfast.”
