I stood, wobbling slightly, and made my way toward the hallway. At the doorway, I turned back. Geoff was watching me with an expression I couldn’t read.
“Thank you,” I said. “For everything. I know this is probably not how you wanted our first meeting to go either.”
“I don’t know.” His smile was soft, genuine. “Getting to be your hero? That’s not a bad way to start.” He winked.
I fell asleep in a matter of minutes in a bed that smelled like fresh laundry and pine, in a cabin on a mountain during a blizzard, rescued by a Yeti who turned out to be the person who’d made the last three years of my life infinitely better.
It was the strangest day of my life.
Chapter 3
Geoff
Istoodinthehallway long after Maya’s door clicked shut, listening to the soft sounds of her settling into the guest room. The creak of the bed frame. The rustling of blankets. A small sigh that might have been relief or exhaustion or both.
My hands shook.
I looked down at my massive, fur-covered hands and fingers, tipped with claws I kept carefully filed, and watched them tremble like I was some kind of nervous teenager instead of a thirty-two-year-old Yeti who’d lived alone in these mountains for the better part of a decade.
Maya was here. In my cabin. Wearing my clothes. Sleeping in my guest room.
Maya, who made me laugh until my sides hurt during midnight gaming sessions. Maya, who had the driest senseof humor and the warmest heart and a tactical mind that consistently impressed me. Maya, who I’d been halfway in love with for at least a year, maybe longer, and who I’d been absolutely terrified to meet in person because what if she took one look at me and…
And what? She’d seen me. All eight feet and several hundred pounds of me. She’d made puns about my username and called me her best gaming partner and looked at me like I was still me.
I needed to move. Do something. Standing in the hallway like a creeper was not a good look.
I made my way back to the kitchen and started pulling out ingredients for tomorrow’s meals. Cooking always helped me think, gave my hands something to do besides shake. Chicken for soup. My mothers words came back to me: ‘After a shock, go easy on the food.’
Maya would need something warming and easy on her stomach after the shock her system had taken. I’d make some bread because fresh bread made everything better. Maybe cookies, if I could find the chocolate chips I'd bought last month.
The storm howled outside, rattling the windows. I’d lived through dozens of blizzards up here. They’d never bothered me before. But now I kept glancing toward the guest room, making sure I could still hear her breathing, making sure she was okay.
She’d crashed her car and could have died. If I hadn’t taken the truck out to check the roads when the storm started looking bad, she would have died.
My stomach twisted. I’d almost lost her before I’d even really found her.
The chicken went into a pot with vegetables and herbs. I set it to simmer, then started on the bread dough, kneading it with careful pressure. With too much strength and I’d tear it apart. Maybe that’s why I loved working with bread. It was similar to the story of my life; always having to hold back, always havingto be gentle, always aware that I could break things without meaning to.
Except Maya hadn’t seemed afraid of me. Surprised, yes. Thrown off balance, definitely. But when I’d caught her in the bathroom, when she’d stumbled and I’d acted on impulse, reaching out for her, she hadn’t flinched.
My mom would’ve said that meant something. She was big on reading signs, on trusting instincts. Dad would’ve been more practical. I could hear him now. ‘Don't get ahead of yourself, son. One day at a time.’
I wished I could call them, but they were in Alaska visiting my aunt’s clan, and cell service up there was spotty at best. They’d love Maya, I thought. Mom especially. She’d been not-so-subtly asking about my love life for years, dropping hints about how nice it would be to have grandchildren, conveniently ignoring the fact that dating as a Yeti wasn’t exactly a thriving scene.
I’d tried, back when I first moved to Calamity Creek. Went to the community mixers, the integration events, the speed-dating nights that the town council organized. Met some nice people, both human and monsters. I even went on a few dates.
None of those relationships went anywhere, no matter how much I’d wanted them to.
A few of the humans fetishized me, as if they wanted to check “Yeti” off their bucket list. Others were forcing themselves to get past their discomfort. And with the monster women, nothing clicked. Maybe we had too many expectations, too much pressure to be a certain way because of what I was.
I was most comfortable online, where none of that mattered. Online, I was just YetiBeGood, a guy who liked RPGs and terrible puns and late-night conversations about everything and nothing. Online, I’d met Maya, and she’d seen past all the bullshit to who I actually was.
And now she was here, and I had no idea what would happen next.
The bread dough was getting overworked. I shaped it into a ball, put it in a bowl to rise, and covered it with a damp towel. My kitchen was spotless. I cleaned while cooking, wiping down counters that didn’t need wiping, organizing spices that were already organized.
Nervous energy, Dad would’ve called it.
