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My response is meant to be funny and lighten the mood from earlier when we both blamed the other for our circumstances. He moves away from my touch, and I don’t think he receives the message.
“You’re such an asshole.” He moves farther from me, sitting on the end of the pull-out bed, right in front of the fireplace, using one of the tools to stoke it.
I leave him to his little fit, and it’s the first time since arriving last night in the dark that natural light flows in through the windows, and I can make out our food situation better.
Pulling back the fridge, it’s empty, except for beer and water, which is warm. I take a few of each and leave it on the counter. It’ll get cooler in the coldness of the cabin, especially away from the fire. Rummaging through the cupboards, I find several granola bars. Searching the expiration date, they’re still good. They also have every sort of bean known to mankind, tuna, canned tomatoes, and a manual can opener. This confirms that the Rogers family no longer owns this place. Mrs. Rogers was a kick-ass cook and always had fantastic food for us when I used the door and didn’t sneak in through Devin’s window.
“We won’t go hungry,” I explain, returning to the fireplace where Clark has a large one blazing. “Good job. I can feel it really well. Let me get warmed up, and I’ll try again to get us some electricity.”
I’m letting his temper tantrum from earlier slide, but he ignores me and crawls back into bed, pulling the covers over him. “Now it’s your turn, Lynol. I’m going back to sleep.” It’s not long until his light snores fill the cabin, and they’re soft, almost cute. Is Clark Farmer cute? Fuck, I’ve known this the whole time.
* * *
As much asI’d dreaded it, I had to take a piss. I’d predicted that my manhood would shrink inside of me due to the coldness outside of the warmth of the fireplace. And I wasn’t far off that prediction, but when I leave the bathroom, I collide into Clark’s hard body.
“Hey, gonna try to take a leak, but I’m afraid my dick will retreat and die inside me from the cold.” It’s the closest to a tease he’s used with me since something crawled up his butt a couple hours ago.
“That would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” It comes out so naturally, and I realize what I’ve said, with a little flirt in my words. I change my tone and clear my throat, trying to keep it civil. “Yeah, good luck with that. Mine is on a hiatus, it’s so fucking cold.”
I turn around as if I’m following him, but I’m not. He gets to the door. “Do you mind?”
“Don’t get too full of yourself, farm boy. I’m looking for something to break the lock on the breaker box.” It’s meant as a joke, but when his return words are fuck you, I realize he hadn’t taken my response as I’d meant it.
In one of the rooms of all wood, I search for anything, hell, an ax would be good, but I have no luck. I could brave the outside elements again because I won’t worry about Clark passing out on me this time. I walk back into the living room, after searching both bedrooms.
“Find anything?” he calls as I hurry to get back in front of the fire. He’s under the covers after his bathroom run.
“Nah, but I’ll go out in ten minutes to look again.”
He moves slightly, taking up the width of the bed, with the fire blazing, and I move the overstuffed chair closer.
“Do you think they’ve contacted someone at this point?” he asks.
“I hope they have, though both our moms will be going out of their minds.” And I think of Martina, who lost her husband, and now her thoughts will go to Clark. My mother will be delirious, and my fucking father will be no help! “They’ll likely find the car first, but I have the address to this cabin on the dashboard.”
“What? Really? You put the address of this cabin here? I didn’t see you do that.”
“Yeah, you were pretty frantic. Your typical go-with-the-flow demeanor was gone. And I had to be the one with a plan.”
Clark’s lips turn into a sour grin. “Shit, you’ll never miss a chance at pointing out your triumphs, right, Xan?” He’s not teasing me. “How do you feel finally being the hero in this story?”
It dawns on me we haven’t eaten. It’s been almost twenty-four hours. “You must be overly hungry because you’ve lost your damn mind, Farmer.”
He doesn’t have a chance to answer when I stand and grab something from my bag and toss it to him. “Now you’re just making shit up, so have something to eat, and maybe you won’t sound like you just started your fucking period, bitch.”
I can’t imagine my words sit well with him, but the jackass can barely stand. He looks at the protein bar and turns his back.
I eat mine, the bile in my throat threatening my ability to keep this down. I’m angry. No, scratch that, I’m fucking furious. I’ve been an ass his whole life, but he gave it back just as hard. This is life or death, and we have to work together for the first time because if we don’t, we may not make it out of here alive.
* * *
He’s asleep,and his snores are louder, but if he’s come down with something, it explains the nasally noise leaving his nose.
I search the drawers quietly to not disturb sleeping beauty and his bitch-ass attitude. How can the owner have no tools anywhere? There’s nothing in the garage or the bedrooms in the back of the house. Taking a peek in the last drawer of the kitchen, I stare at the tool in front of me. It could be better, but this hammer may do the trick.
Donning my complete outdoor ensemble, I open the door and twist my head to Clark. He’s fast asleep, and the frigid wind doesn’t affect him.
The door is unlocked from earlier, and it’s colder than before. Has the temperature dropped? I won’t be surprised that it does when it stops snowing.
