Page 47 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

Her laugh was frozen mid-tilt, sunburn on her nose, holding a field guide and what looked like a slightly squished sandwich, like both were treasures. We'd been visiting a national park that weekend, combining her love of teaching with her love of the outdoors, bringing back adventures to share with Dad when he returned from a business trip.

I whispered the truth out loud to her picture, to the empty cottage, to myself: “I don't know what I want. Not yet. But I know I want to want it for the right reasons.”

Chapter 12

Storm on the Horizon

Levi

The text came in at two-thirty on Thursday, just as Jason was finishing up an oil change on Mrs. Henderson's ancient Buick while I was using his air socket to tighten the lug nuts on Cassie’s truck. Her back tire had been a little low yesterday. If the storm was going to be as bad as everyone claimed, a low tire was the last thing she needed. I was hoping to have it back before school was out.

Can't make dinner tonight. Rain check?

I stared at the screen for a long moment, wiping grease off my hands with a shop rag that had seen better days. Something was off. Had been since that job offer showed up in her email the other day.

I tapped out a quick response. Of course. Everything okay?

The three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Finally: Just tired. Long day with the kids.

It wasn't a lie, exactly. I knew her students had been wound up tighter than Janet's Christmas lights, all sugar-high excitement about the upcoming Christmas break and another big snow that had been threatening for days. But it wasn't the whole truth either, and Cassie was terrible at hiding things from me.

I pocketed my phone while Jason finished buttoning up Mrs. Henderson's engine. Through the garage's bay door windows, I could see the sky darkening prematurely, heavy clouds rolling in from the northwest like a gray wool blanket being pulled across the valley. The air had that sharp, electric smell that came before a real storm—the storms that made old-timers like Will Jenkins start talking about the blizzard of '78 and stocking up on kerosene.

"Storm's coming in tomorrow," Jordan called from across the tractor, where he was putting chains on my old plow truck in case the county needed it again this year. "Weather service just upgraded it to a blizzard warning. Could dump three feet before it's done."

Three feet. In a place like Everwood, that meant the world would stop for a few days. No school, no mail delivery, just essential services and neighbors checking on neighbors. It also meant Cassie would be stuck in that little cottage of hers, alone, riding out her first Montana blizzard.

The thought sat heavy in my chest.

But it wasn't just the storm I was worried about. It was what she might decide while she was snowed in with nothing but time to think. About Miller's Pass. About whether Everwood was really where she wanted to build her life. About whether what we'd been building together was worth staying for.

Mrs. Henderson shuffled in just as Jason was lowering the Buick's hood, her walker clicking against the concrete floor. She was bundled up in enough layers to survive an Arctic expedition, but her eyes were bright and alert behind wire-rimmed glasses.

"How's she looking, Jason?" she asked, patting the car's fender like it was an old friend.

"Good as new, Mrs. H. Changed the oil, checked the battery, topped off the antifreeze. She'll get you through the winter just fine."

"Bless you, boy." She fumbled in her purse for her wallet, arthritic fingers struggling with the zipper. "What do I owe you?"

"Nothing this time," Jason said, holding up a hand when she started to protest. "Consider it a pre-storm courtesy check."

"Nonsense. I pay my way."

"And you will, next time. But right now, you need to get home before this weather turns ugly."

I glanced toward the darkening sky. "You got enough supplies? Flashlights? Batteries?"

Her face softened. "I'm fine, dear. Got enough canned soup to feed Sherman's army and batteries for every flashlight in the county. Though I appreciate you asking."

I helped her into the driver's seat, adjusted the mirrors, and made sure she could reach everything. "You call if you need anything, okay? Doesn't matter what time."

"I know, sweetheart. You're a good boy, Levi. Your mama raised you right." She patted my hand through the open window. "Speaking of which, how's that pretty teacher of yours doing? Haven't seen her around town much lately."

There it was again—that knot in my stomach.

"She's fine. Just busy with school."

Mrs. Henderson gave me a look that suggested she saw right through my casual tone. "Hmm. Well, you make sure she's prepared for this storm. City girls don't always know what they're in for out here."