Page 49 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

"Again?" Mom asked gently.

"Again."

They were both quiet for a moment, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in their heads. Finally, Janet spoke up.

"You know what I think? I think that job offer spooked her. Made her start second-guessing everything she's built here."

"She'll turn it down," I said quickly.

"Are you sure about that, son? Seems like she’s had a lot of time on her hands to do some pretty serious thinking."

The question hung in the air like smoke. Outside, the wind rattled the inn's old windows, making the trees sway.

"She wouldn't leave without saying goodbye," I said, but even as the words left my mouth, I wasn't sure I believed them. With all the plans she’d canceled lately, I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

Mom moved to the window, pulling back the lace curtain to peer out at the gathering gloom. "This is going to be a rough one. Three-day blow, minimum."

"She'll be okay," I said, more to convince myself than them. "The cottage is solid, and she's got my number if anything happens."

"Levi." Janet's voice was gentle but firm. "That cottage is three miles from town, down a road that won't see a plow until the storm passes.”

“And right next to me..."

And I knew exactly what she was getting at. Cassie's cottage sat in a little hollow surrounded by old-growth pines, beautiful and peaceful on a sunny day, but as isolated as the moon when the weather turned ugly.

"She's got heat," I said, running through a mental checklist. "Fireplace, electric baseboard heaters. Kitchen's stocked—I helped her get groceries last week."

"What about water?" Mom asked. "That cottage is on well water. If the power goes out..."

My stomach dropped. The cottage's water pump ran on electricity. No power meant no heat for the baseboard heaters, and if the pipes froze…

"I’ll check on her," I said, already knowing I had planned on doing exactly that. If my voicing it made them feel better, then by all means. I had even made preparations to bring her to my place, just in case.

"Levi, wait." Janet caught my arm. "You can't force her to let you help. If she needs help, she’ll ask."

"Not in the middle of a blizzard, she doesn't."

Mom suggested quietly. "Check on the cottage, make sure everything's secure. If she needs help, she'll ask."

I nodded, though every instinct I had was screaming that I should just throw Cassie over my shoulder and carry her to my place until the storm passed.

"My place is only a few hundred yards through the woods," I told them, pulling on my jacket. "If things get bad, I can get to her."

Outside, the storm was building. The wind was stronger now, bending the trees.

The road to Cassie's cottage was still clear, but I could see where tomorrow's drifts would form—in the hollows, against the fence lines, anywhere the wind could catch and pile the snow. By tomorrow night, this road would be impassable until the county plows could get through.

I pulled into her driveway and sat for a moment, engine running, watching the cottage through the gathering twilight. It looked smaller somehow, more vulnerable than I remembered. Yellow light glowed warmly in the front windows, and I could see smoke rising from the chimney, which was a good sign. At least she had a fire going.

Part of me wanted to march up to that door and demand to know what was going on, why she'd been avoiding me, whether she was really planning to stay in Everwood or if she was just waiting for the right moment to break my heart and disappear back to whatever life she'd had before her car broke down on that dusty road.

Instead, I did a slow circuit of the cottage, checking what I could see from the truck. The woodpile looked good—I'd stacked it myself just the other day. I didn't see any obvious problems with the roof or the gutters.

As I was about to leave, the front door opened and Cassie appeared, silhouetted in the warm light from inside. She was wearing that oversized sweater she loved, the blue one that made her eyes look like summer sky, and her hair was pulled back in a messy bun with strands escaping to frame her face. On her feet, she wore those ridiculous bear-feet slippers I’d bought her last time I went into the city.

She waved, and I rolled down my window.

"Everything okay?" she called, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold.