Anyone? (25 page)

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Authors: Angela Scott

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He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Yeah, I’m fine. How you
holding up?”

“I’m hanging in there.” I managed a few more steps, but walking
was getting harder and harder. “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine.

“You’re not even a little cold?”
How could he not be?

“Oh, I’m cold,” he said. “I just seem to handle it better
than you.” He zipped his jacket a little higher around his neck, rubbed his
hands together, and shivered once. “You need to stop thinking about it so much.”

My teeth chattered non-stop. My body shook. I couldn’t feel
my feet or hands, and my nose had turned into a giant ice-cube on my face. The
only thing missing was an icicle dangling from my nostrils—a real possibility. How
could I
not
think about being cold?

Because I knew how miserable I was, I couldn’t buy into Cole’s
act one bit.

 

Cole flicked my nose. “Stay awake.”

My eyes snapped open, and I blinked several times, breaking
the crystals forming on my eyelashes. I’d fallen asleep standing against the
cabin’s porch railing, and it took a moment for me to remember where we were. I
hadn’t meant to fall asleep, for however short a time, but the cold made it
increasingly difficult to stay awake. “Are we here?”

“Yeah.” He tapped both of my cheeks. “Don’t close your eyes,
okay?”

I bobbed my head and my eyelids fluttered, fighting to stay
open.

“Step back,” he said. When I didn’t move, he took hold of my
shoulders and positioned me away from the cabin door. “Don’t move and don’t
fall asleep on me again.”

“Okay.” The word pressed through my frozen lips.

He took a step back, lifted his leg, and kicked the wooden
door. The frame splintered, but continued to hold. He kicked it again and the
door gave away a little more, but instead of kicking it a third time, he let
out a tribal yell and rammed it with his shoulder, over and over, until the wood
finally split under the pressure.

Cole slipped through the tight space, entering the cabin
sideways.

He didn’t open the broken door, but pressed his face through
the crack in the middle of the wood. “Heeere’s Johnny!”

Cole’s antics were funny, but all I could manage was a
tightlipped, teeth-chattering grin.

“You don’t even know what that’s from, do you?” He opened
what was left of the door, half-hanging on hinges, and half-falling apart, then
came to me, took my arm, slipped it over his shoulder, and helped me inside. “I’ll
give you the chocolate candy bar I’ve got hidden in my bag if you can name the movie.”

He didn’t have a candy bar. He didn’t have the will-power to
keep one on him this long, but I played along anyway. “Stephen King’s,
The
Shining
.”

His laugh echoed off the cabin walls. “No way! How did you
know that?” He removed my backpack, set it carefully on the floor, then lowered
my frozen and tired body on the nineteen-seventy plaid style couch. “That’s way
before your time.”

“Who doesn’t love Stephen King? Dad had it in the bomb
shelter. I think I watched it half a dozen times.”

He grabbed an old quilt off the back of the couch, shook off
the dust, and draped it around me. “Have you seen
Misery
with James Caan
and Kathy Bates?”

I shook my head and hugged the blanket tighter. “No, but I’ve
read the book.” I tried to lie down, but he grabbed me by the shoulders and
righted me.

“Keep talking to me, Tess. Stay with me okay?”

I nodded. “I’m really tired.”

“I know, and I promise you can sleep in a minute, but not
yet. I need you to keep me company while I get a fire going.”

He propped the broken door mostly in place, though large
cracks on either side let in a few swirling snowflakes. They gathered on the
floor in a soft pile. It was too cold, even inside the old cabin, for them to
melt. “What other Stephen King movies have you seen?”

Cold nipped at my brain, and I struggled to think. “
Cujo
,
but the book was way better.”

“I heard the ending in the book was sad, where the movie
ended a little more optimistically.” He unzipped the pocket of my bag, and
Callie popped out of the opening. She let out a high-pitched meow and shook her
head; her fur stood upright.

“Like I said, the book was better. Books are always better.”

He scooped Callie into his large hands and brought her over
to me. “Here you go.” He placed her on my lap and tucked the blanket around the
both of us. “Hold on to her.”

My fingers were too numb to really feel her. Pinprick
sensations ran from the tips of my fingers toward my palms, but I placed my
hands on top of her warm little body anyway.

“What else do you like reading? Romance? Sci-fi? Mystery?”
Cole knelt in front of the rock fireplace and stacked old newspapers, kindling,
and a few logs inside. The cabin’s owners had a nice pile of wood next to the
door. Good people.

“Pretty much anything, as long as it’s good. How about you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t like reading.”

“Then you’re doing it wrong.”

“You’re probably right.” He stood and searched a few shelves,
pushing nick-knacks and other random items aside before he dug into his
backpack and removed a lighter. “I’ll have a fire going before you know it.”

“I can’t wait.” I couldn’t remember what feeling warm was
like anymore.

“Let’s just hope I don’t accidently burn this place down.”
He clicked the lighter and a small flame came to life. It didn’t take much for
the newspaper to catch fire, or for the flames to engulf the kindling and wood.
“Let me get it going a little better, and then I’ll move you closer.”

“Okay.”

He placed a couple more logs in the fireplace. “That should
do it.” He crossed the room, slipped his arms under my legs, and lifted me from
the couch. “I’ll go see what blankets I can round up.” Callie enjoyed the ride,
purring while he carried us. He placed the two of us on the woven rug in front
of the fire. “I’ll be right back.”

The dancing yellow and orange flames intrigued me, almost
hypnotizing, emitting a gradual warmth—kissing at my face then at my hands as I
held them out in front of me. The pinpricks worsened, and I snatched my hands
back and hid them in the blankets.

“Here we go. Look at this.” Cole stepped out of a side room
with a large pile of blankets and comforters in his arms. “We’re going to be nice
and cozy.”

I didn’t answer. My eyelids had already started to close.

He gave my shoulders a gentle shake. “Not yet, Tess.”

“I’m still freezing.” I knew the warmth of the fire wouldn’t
heat me instantly, but I couldn’t help wishing it would hurry and do its job.

He took Callie, removed her from the sock, and sat her to
the side. She took a few timid steps, but overall stayed close to the
fireplace, which was good since I didn’t think I had it in me to chase her
down. If she wanted to take off, I’d probably let her.
Be free, little
kitty!

Cole slipped the quilt from my shoulders, and as I tried to
grab it back, he pushed my hands away. “We’ve got to get you out of those wet
clothes. They’re probably stuck to your body.” He removed my gloves and cursed
at my hands.

“What?” I tried to look, but he maneuvered himself so I
couldn’t.

He picked up one foot at a time, and gently removed each of
my battered boots and threadbare socks. He didn’t swear this time, but the look
on his face said it all.

“It’s that bad, huh?”

He reached forward to unzip my pants.

“Am I going to lose my fingers and toes?”

He shook his head as he maneuvered my stiff jeans from my
frozen legs. “Not if I can help it.” Tiny pieces of my flesh peeled away with
the material, as he said it might. The small sores bled, but stopped after a
few seconds. Even so, they appeared raised and angry looking. Not pretty at
all.

“Sorry,” he said. “They had to come off.” He removed my
jacket, unbuttoned my shirt, and cast them aside.

The cold kept me from caring I sat there in only my bra and
panties. Being ogled was the last thing on my mind. “Hurry. Please.” Goosebumps
rippled my skin and my shivering increased tenfold, even though I couldn’t have
imagined either of those things being worse than they already were. “I’m going
to die here.”

He removed an old woman’s flannel housedress from the pile
of blankets—a dark blue and pink flowered print my grandmother might have
worn—and slipped it over my head, lastly helping to work my arms through the
holes. He eased me into a resting position and placed a pillow under my head.

“I can sleep now?”

“Almost.” He covered me in one after another of the various blankets
he had gathered earlier. “How does that feel?”

I continued to shake without reprieve, but could feel a
slight difference. “It’s great.” I would say almost anything so he’d leave me
alone and let me sleep.

He slipped a knitted cap over the top of my head and tucked
the blankets tightly around me. I closed my eyes, but heard him moving around
the cabin—placing more logs on the fire, boiling water, and feeding Callie. He
opened and closed closets and drawers, but I wasn’t curious enough to open my
eyes to see why.

The fire crackled and a hint of smoke hung in the air. It warmed
my nose—the first time I could breathe without my nostrils sticking together or
my lungs filling with icy air. Yeah, I could totally go to sleep.

“Here you go.” Cole lifted the edge of the blankets and slid
the most amazing bag of heat next to my body.
A hot water bottle.
My new
best friend. “How are you doing?”

I smiled with my eyes still closed. “Better. How about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, okay? Concentrate on getting yourself
warm.” He reached under the blankets and touched my hands, then each of my
feet. “Damn.”

“I’m getting warmer.” I tried to stop his worrying. I
did
feel warmer.

“You’re still shaking.”

“I am?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You are.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He sighed, long and hard. “I’m going to make sure you are.”

He was quiet, and I couldn’t hear him moving or doing
anything, but could sense his presence kneeling next to me.
Is he praying?

I cracked open an eye, then the other eye quickly followed
suit. He wasn’t praying at all. I tried to sit up. “What are you doing?”

He had removed his shoes, pants, and shirt. He knelt next to
me in wearing only his boxer shorts. “Move over.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

I shifted a little, and he lifted the blankets and quickly
slid inside next to me. “Jeez, it’s cold.”

He didn’t shiver. No goose bumps attacked his skin. In fact,
as he curled his body against mine—his stomach pressed against my back—heat
radiated from him. He wrapped his arms around me, and he laid his head next to
mine. “You can go to sleep now, Tess. I’ve got you.”

“You’re not a real person are you?”
How else could he be
this warm?

“Shush,” he whispered against my ear. “Close your eyes. We’ll
talk more tomorrow.”

 

Warm breath escaped Cole’s partially closed lips and swept
over my eyes, my cheeks, and my mouth. Our faces had turned toward one another
sometime during the night. And now, as he continued to sleep, I watched him by
the light of the fire with only one question on my mind:
What are you?

I kept still, breathing in rhythm with Cole’s. His chest
rose and fell against mine. His eyes, deep in sleep, danced behind his lids. His
nearly naked body exuded warmth I’d never experienced before, but wholly
appreciated even though I questioned its probability.

Alien. Imaginary. False. Unnatural.

All the facts I played over in my mind pointed to him being one,
if not all of those things. Dylan not seeing him; his overall heath; his
bizarre warmth and lack of shivering in below-freezing temperatures—but his
unshaven face, no matter how much I stared, revealed nothing. If anything, the
mole below his ear, the small scar above his left eyebrow, and the scattering
of faded freckles on his bare shoulders—signs of realness—caused me to question
myself again.

His eyes opened and he caught me staring. “Hey, there.”

“Hey.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Only a few minutes,” I lied.

“You should’ve woken me.”

“I didn’t want to. You looked peaceful.”

He grinned. “I was going for handsome and rugged, but I
guess peaceful will have to do. Are you feeling any warmer?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“That’s great.” He sat up, slid the blankets to the side,
and took one of my hands in his. He turned it over, examined my palm and then
each of my fingers before doing the same thing to my other hand. He moved to my
feet, studied them, and then looked at me and smiled. “Everything’s looking
good. No stumps or pirate hooks for you.”

I lifted each of my hands and glanced at them, then wiggled
my toes, surprised to find I could. The whiteness and waxy look were gone. No
more redness on my hands. No more pinpricks stabbed my fingertips and toes. He
was right, everything did look and feel good; they appeared almost normal.

“How’s that possible?” I asked him. I had witnessed the
horrified look on his face the day before and didn’t need to be told how bad my
hands and feet had been; I had known by his grimace how dangerously close I’d
been to losing them. “How did you fix this? What did you do to me?”

His forehead wrinkled. “Do?”

“Yeah, how did you make me better?” I grabbed the blankets
and tucked them around me again. A chill still hung in there air, though
nothing like the day before, and I needed the blankets.

Cole sat in his underwear, seemingly unbothered by the cold.
“I started a fire. I put blankets on you, wrapped my body around yours, and hoped
for the best. But you already know all that.”

“No, what did you do,
really?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Umm...I’m not sure what you’re
asking.”

I matched his posture by sitting up, and placed my hands on
top of the blankets for effect. “My hands and feet were in bad shape yesterday,
now they’re not. I crawled into a train car with a severe sunburn on my arm,
but when I woke up, you were there and the sunburn was gone. What have you been
doing to fix me?”

He eyed me as if I’d sprouted another head. “I don’t know
what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Cole. You can’t tell me all of this was a coincidence.
Tell me what you did. I’m open-minded, and I can handle it.” He could shoot
white light from his eyes and spit fire at that very moment, and I was fairly
certain I’d be okay with it.

“Wait a minute.” He smiled. “You don’t think I’m a miracle
healer like Jesus, do you? Because as flattering as it is for me, I’m fairly
certain the Son of God would take offense to the comparison.”

I leaned forward. “I’m being totally serious.”


Okay,
I see that now.” He put his hands up, palms
facing me. “Just to be clear, I’m not Jesus. The guy fed like ten thousand
people with a loaf of bread and a couple of fish. I can barely keep us alive
with a can of soup. While we’re at it, you are
not
open-minded and you
can’t handle much of anything.”

I ignored his humorous crap and insults. “Are you an alien
or something?”

He smirked. “Now, you’re being cruel. First, I was like Jesus,
and now you’re comparing me to one of those bald-headed, big-eyed creatures
from space? Please, stop talking before I really get my feelings hurt.”

“How did you know where this cabin was?”

“I didn’t. We got lucky.”

“When the tornado was chasing us, you drove the car straight
into a carwash that ended up being the only building in the area not destroyed.
Are you saying we got lucky then too?”

“I would have to say yeah, we got damn lucky.”

“What about these?” I reached forward and ran my fingers
over the angel wing tattoos on his back. “There’s something more to these isn’t
there? Are you like my guardian angel or something?”

He turned his head sideways and squinted at me. “Ahhh... I
was demoted from Jesus to an alien and now I’m promoted to guardian angel.
Nice. You’re buttering me up again. I like it. But honestly, Tess, does every
good thing I do have to have a deeper meaning behind it? Because that’s a lot
of pressure for a guy like me. I don’t think I can keep up these so-called ‘miracles’
you believe I’m capable of performing.”

I scooted closer to him. “Please, if there is something
unearthly going on, or if I’m going crazy, tell me. I need to know, because I’m
not sure of anything anymore... and I hate feeling like I’m going out of my
mind.”

Cole released his breath and moved toward me, our knees
touching. “You want to know the truth, huh?”

I nodded. “Yes, I do.”

He took both of my hands. “Then here it is.” He looked away briefly,
cleared his throat, and brought his eyes back to mine. “I want to tell you I’m
just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to love me.”

What the—?
I ripped my hands from his. “Did you quote
Notting Hill
at me?”

“Well, yes and no. Technically, Julia Roberts quoted this to
Hugh Grant’s character, so it was a girl standing in front of a boy thing.
Literally, they were standing in a bookstore where as we’re sitting on the
ground, but that is beside the point. The message is still the same. I’m an
ordinary guy, who happens to have had some pretty amazing luck lately. That’s
all. Please, can’t that be enough for you? Why do you have to make this more
complicated?”

“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”

Cole reached for his pants and slipped each leg inside
before standing and hiking his jeans over his hips. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Fine. Whatever.” I sank back against the pillows and jerked
the blankets around me. I’d let him get the fire roaring before getting up and
attempting to get dressed in something that didn’t come from my grandmother’s
generation.

“Besides,” he said as he grabbed his shirt and pulled it
over his head, “if I was an angel, do you really think I’d admit it? There are
rules about that kind of thing, you know? The whole mortal versus immortal
aspect needs to be in balance. Rules that angels, vampires, and elves alike
must abide by.”

Of course there are.

“Now, witches and warlocks are different. Also fairies. Those
nasty little bastards love to brag about their pixie dust. You can’t shut them
up.”

“You’re annoying.”

“But adorable, right?”

I shook my head. “Well, if you’re an angel, then God must have
been pretty desperate.”

Cole smiled as he knelt next to the fire and placed more
kindling and timber on top. “If I was an angel, then God probably was.”

“Tess, come here! You’ve got to see this.” Cole poked his
head over the edge of the cabin loft. “Seriously, it’s amazing.”

“What is it?” I wasn’t in the mood to climb a rickety ladder
to only be shown a dead mouse or something equally non-amazing. With Cole, I
could never be sure. Our definitions rarely lined up.

“I can’t explain it. You’ve got to come up here and see it
for yourself.” His head disappeared. He cursed out of awe, and said, “Incredible.”

Fine.
He had me intrigued. I climbed the ladder,
taking my time, so I didn’t lose my grip or footing and end up falling backward.
My hands and feet were doing great, but still felt a little awkward from being
frozen stiff for so long. “What is it?”

He lay belly down on a huge king-sized mattress with Callie
curled at his side, grooming herself. He had to have carried her up with him,
and I found it a little sweet.

With the pitch of the roof, the mattress had to be placed
straight on the floor without a box spring beneath. Heat rose and warmed the
small area, so even with the window wide open, I didn’t feel cold.

He patted the mattress next to him. “You’re going to like
this.”

I crawled across the floor and climbed on beside him. “So
what am I supposed to be looking...” I couldn’t finish my sentence. He didn’t
need to explain anything.
Wow.

Splashes of color—deep greens, reds, and purples—rolled across
the early morning sky and formed waves shifting and blended above us for as far
as I could see. The snow reflected the colors, making the experience twice as
fantastic. The lights went on and on, dancing and swaying, encompassing the
entire sky for miles. I’d never seen anything like it. Magical and mesmerizing
all at once.

“What is it?” I whispered, too amazed to be frightened by
something so beautiful and unnatural.

“I believe we’re witnessing the great Aurora Borealis.”

“What? You mean the northern lights?” I glanced at him and
then stared outside again, unsure.
Impossible.
The northern lights were
seen in places like Norway, Sweden, and Alaska. Not Utah. Cole had to be wrong.
“That can’t be right.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that’s what it is, but if you want to
believe it’s my mother ship signaling me to come home, you’re welcome to that
theory too.”

The lights hypnotized me, and I watched them until the sun
rose completely and they faded away. It saddened me to see them go, even though
they shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

“That was the best thing I’ve seen since leaving my TV back
at the hanger.” Cole wiggled off the mattress, picked up Callie, and started
down the ladder. “I’m going to see what goodies they have in the cupboards and
whip us up some breakfast. You should start searching the closets for a decent
pair of boots, and hope they’ve got something that will fit you.”

Yep, the Doc Martens had to go, but I worried that this
cabin, as great as it was, wouldn’t have anything worthwhile. If there were
boots, they would most assuredly be hideous.

I waited until Cole reached the bottom before starting my
decent. Part way down, an itch behind my ear aggravated me to the point that I
stopped midway to scratch the heck out of it. A mosquito bite this time of
year? Bed bugs, maybe? Scratching only made it worse. I struggled to stop and
find some sense of self-control.
Seriously?

“You need some help getting down?” Cole called from the
kitchen.

“No, I’ve got it.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

I forced myself to stop scratching—
knock it off for
goodness’ sake
—and when I finally removed my hand from my head, a thick
clump of brown hair dangled from my fingertips.

“Tess?”

I stared at it, unmoving. It had come out so easily. Not a
few strands, but a nice-sized chunk.

“You sure you’re okay?” he called again.

I could hear his footsteps in the kitchen, coming closer, so
I quickly tossed the section of long hair into the loft, and climbed the rest
of the way down. “Yeah,” I answered. “I’m fine.”

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