Page 52 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

I should get up, I thought. I should move. But moving seemed impossibly complicated, and sitting in the snow was strangely comfortable. Peaceful, even. The cold was starting to feel warm, which some distant part of my brain recognized as a very bad sign.

“Cassie!”

The voice cut through the storm's noise and my own mental fog. I turned my head—slowly, because everything felt underwater—and saw a figure charging through the snow toward me. Tall, broad-shouldered, moving quickly.

Levi.

“Cassie!” he called again, and now I could see his face clearly despite the driving snow. His expression was pure panic, his fear cutting straight through the winter storm and my shock-induced numbness.

He reached me in seconds, dropping to his knees in the snow beside me. His hands were immediately on me—checking for injuries, brushing snow from my face, his touch warm and solid and wonderfully, perfectly real.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice tight with controlled worry. “Can you move? Talk to me, Cassie.”

“I'm okay,” I managed, though my voice sounded strange to my own ears. “I think I'm okay. The tree... it just...”

“I know,” he said, his hands still moving over me with gentle efficiency, checking for broken bones or bleeding. “I saw it fall. When I saw you sitting in the snow...”

His voice cracked slightly on the last words. I was vaguely aware I was sitting in a blizzard, soaked through, probably hypothermic, while my cottage lay in ruins. And Levi had come looking for me.

“How did you know?” I asked, letting him help me to my feet. My legs felt wobbly, but they held.

“Was already driving over. Heard the crash,” he said, supporting most of my weight without making it obvious. “Since there was an early out, I knew you’d be home.”

He wrapped his arm around me, solid and warm and reassuring, and began guiding me away from the wreckage. “Come on. We need to get you inside and warmed up. My place. Now.”

I let him lead me through the snow toward his truck—but I couldn't help looking back over my shoulder.

The tree had taken out most of the roof and part of the front wall. I could see into my living room, where snow was already beginning to accumulate on my ruined furniture. The bookshelf I'd been so proud of arranging was buried under branches and debris. The kitchen window I'd looked through just this morning while drinking coffee was gone entirely.

“Don't,” Levi said gently, noticing my backward glance. “Don't look. Not tonight.”

He was right, of course. Looking wouldn't change anything, and it would only make the shock worse. But it was hard not to look. That cottage had been the first place that had felt like mine in longer than I could remember. I'd hung wind chimes on the porch and planted herbs in mismatched mugs. I'd learned how to work the temperamental fireplace and discovered that the floorboards in the hallway squeaked in a cheerful sort of way.

Now it was gone. Not all of it, maybe, but enough. More than enough.

But at least I could see the top of Professor Fungi’s pointy hat sticking up on what remained of the front porch.

As if sensing my thoughts, Levi's arm tightened around me. “We'll figure it out,” he said quietly. “Whatever needs figuring, we'll handle it. But first, let's get you warm and dry and make sure you're really okay.”

His house appeared through the snow like something from a fairy tale—windows glowing with warm light, smoke rising from the chimney, looking solid, welcoming, and utterly safe. I'd been inside before, living next door for months, and right now, it looked like the most beautiful place on earth.

“Almost there,” Levi murmured, and I realized I was leaning on him more heavily than I'd thought. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion and a strange, floaty feeling that suggested I might not be as uninjured as I'd claimed.

But we made it to his porch, and then through his front door, and suddenly I was standing in warmth and light, dripping snow onto his hardwood floors and trying to process the fact that my life had just changed completely in the span of about ten minutes.

Levi guided me to his couch and immediately began working on getting my wet coat off. His movements were gentle but efficient, and there was something profoundly comforting about letting him take care of me.

“Better?” he asked, wrapping a soft blanket around my shoulders.

I nodded, though I wasn't sure “better” was the right word. I was warmer, certainly. Drier. But my cottage was still destroyed, I was essentially homeless, and the storm outside was raging like something out of a Norse myth.

“I should call someone,” I said, though I wasn't sure who. “Insurance, maybe? Or...I don't know. Do people call people when trees fall on their houses?”

Levi sat down beside me on the couch and put his arm around me. His warmth was needed and comforting. “We'll make all the calls tomorrow,” he said. “When the storm passes and we can actually think straight. Tonight, let’s just stay warm, that's all that matters.”

He was right, of course. There was nothing to be done tonight anyway, not with the blizzard raging and no way to get help even if help were available. But sitting there on his couch, wrapped in his blanket, watching the fire crackle in his fireplace, I felt something I hadn't expected.

Was it love?