Page 2 of One Chance to Stay (Bears of Firefly Valley #4)

“I’m going to die.” I'm a Mainer. It shouldn't be the cold that did me in.

My boots crunched in the snow, sinking up to the shin. I held up my phone, flashing the light around, hoping I recognized anything. Trees. Snow. More trees. If I had realized survival required studying the trees, I’d have spent more time admiring them on my way up the mountain.

“Get some fresh air, they said. It’ll do wonders, they said. Nobody said anything about frostbite.”

Wiggling my toes, I knew they moved, but I couldn’t feel the scratchiness of my wool socks.

My fingers were no better. I couldn’t be far from the truck.

The snow had turned from serene to dangerous.

Every person in Maine recognized the transition.

Roads turned from wet to treacherous. Driveways would need shoveling.

The inhabitants would transition from jeans and hoodies to snow pants and thermal jackets.

None of them would be hiking on a mountain.

I checked my phone again. Seven percent battery life. The text with my photo still hadn’t been sent, which meant my panicked text still hung in limbo.

Patrick: Between Firefly and Merryville. Look for my truck. Lower overlook trail. Not sure if I can make it back. Send help.

Taking a steadying breath, I flexed my fingers, trying to keep the circulation going. As long as I felt cold, I had time. It’s when it turned into a false warm I’d get worried. Until then, I still had some fight in me.

The light on my phone wouldn’t last much longer. I needed to pick up the pace before it died. Flicking off the light, the darkness raced in. I don’t know what I hoped to see. Maybe the lights from a plow? A fire? Twinkling Christmas lights decorating a house?

“Holy crap.” Narrowing my eyes, I tried to ensure they weren’t playing a trick on me.

Somewhere in the distance, I found the faint glow of a window.

Hypothermia didn’t come with hallucinations like the desert, did it?

Without options, I prayed it would guide me to a sweet couple willing to take me in.

The crunch returned as I headed for the light. I pulled out the light, making sure I didn’t run into yet another tree. Six percent. I could make it.

“Martini. Manhattan. Cosmo. Tom Collins. Sex on the Beach.” After tonight, I’d gladly welcome the heat of the sun and sand in the crack of my ass. It only reminded me that my nose had stopped burning. “Moscow Mule. Old Fashioned. What’s the blue one. A blue lagoon?”

Running through the drink list didn’t stop the cold, but it gave me a distraction from my impending death.

I wanted to curse myself for being dumb.

Who goes up a mountain in December hoping for some sort of epiphany?

If I didn’t make it to the house, I wouldn’t have to worry about my problems anymore.

Hey, if Death snatched me, I wouldn’t have to worry about feeling stuck anymore. Problem solved.

“Not today, Death.” The problem would have to wait until the sensation returned to my toes.

As I stepped from the forest into a clearing, I let out a sigh of relief. A light. I couldn’t see the house, but the light stood out like a beacon. I lifted my phone, ready to charge forward. Tapping the screen, I growled. I should have known— every man lies. It’s never really six.

No light. “The universe hates me.”

My fingers had stiffened enough that they barely shoved the phone in my pocket.

With no phone, who knows what I’d run into?

I didn’t have time to waste. Much longer, and it’d stop feeling cold, and that’d be the beginning of the end.

Of all the ways I expected to die, my vacation hadn’t made the list.

Tigers. That’s how I assumed it’d end. Thankfully, I hadn’t been to the zoo since middle school, and I had no plans to change that. The northern half of Maine ensured there’d never be a surprise tiger attack. It’s how I escaped death.

A wolf howled. “No. No. No,” I mumbled. “I said tiger, not wolf.” I continued stomping through the snow, which was steadily getting deeper as I trudged across the field. “One’s a cat. One’s a dog.” I’m sure the wolf would understand my logic.

The light continued growing brighter. Hope set in, and for a moment, it brought a warming sensation through my body.

Hope crumbled as I realized hypothermia had taken hold.

I didn’t have time to debate which animal had the pleasure of punching my dance card.

Hypothermia had found its way through my wet jeans and up the legs of my thermal underwear. I just needed a little longer.

The light turned off.

The black of night didn’t deter me. If the light had gone off, somebody flipped the switch. Inside whatever house, garage, or shack I headed toward, there was life. I just had to hope they weren’t leaving. Though, what crazy person would go out in this?

Oh. Guilty.

My legs continued to stiffen, and every step grew increasingly difficult.

I couldn’t tell if I had a few hundred feet to go or another mile.

I will not die. I will not die. Fatigue set in as my chest continued thumping.

My body begged for even a second to rest. Pause, take a deep breath, and then it’d be ready.

My body lied, and if I stopped now, there wouldn’t be another step.

“I’m going to drink so many blue lagoons.” My jaw hurt from the chattering. The thought of sipping those nasty blue drinks, liquid candy filled with booze, was enough to tighten my stomach.

I smashed into the side of something. Large.

It knocked the wind from my lungs. There was no time to inspect.

Even the stunned pause meant more willpower to take another step.

Banging on it as I walked around, I realized I was inches away from a vehicle…

a truck, and yet I couldn’t make out the front grill.

“Drive. Way.” The chattering continued.

I pushed forward, hoping I hadn’t gotten turned around in my scuffle with the truck. “Hello.” Even a shout vanished into the night. “Hello.” My voice refused to get any louder. Somewhere around here, I had seen the light. I just needed to?—

My boot caught on something, and I fell forward. My shin banged against something hard, and I hit a flat surface. No snow? I had tripped up stairs and landed on the deck. There must have been a roof above. I was so close.

Joints seized up, and I forced myself to crawl. Reaching the wall, I pulled myself upright. Feeling about, I banged on the wall, hoping the noise would bring the stranger hidden inside.

The blinking light of a microwave clock.

In the darkness, it might as well have been a floodlight.

On. Off. On. These four walls held warmth.

One last barrier, and I'd give Mother Nature the finger.

I just needed to get inside. I barely got my hand on the doorknob when it jerked open.

Heat blasted me. My body sagged in relief—but my heart stuttered.

The barrel of a gun rested inches from my nose.

As I followed it up, the owner stood in the darkened entryway, hidden from view.

“Hi.” Please don’t let me end tonight with a gunshot wound. I gave a slight wave. “I bet you weren’t expecting company.” The words came out in a stutter as I fought for control of my jaw. The heat radiating from the house was enough to make the tip of my nose burn.

“Can I come in?”

The owner of the rifle relaxed. “You’re not going to die on my floor, are you?” Not exactly a warm welcome, but I was taking it as a yes.

“I’ll try not to.” I couldn’t make any promises.

He reached to the side, and a light flipped on. The barrel of the rifle dipped, pointed at the floor. When he stepped back, I could see the barrel-chested man with a short beard, more salt than pepper. With a slight gesture of the head, he beckoned me in.

“Come in.” I took the first step inside. “Boots off.”

My savior wasn’t a man of many words, but it didn’t matter. When I stepped in, he shut the door behind me. I tried unlacing my boots, but my fingers were useless. I kicked them off, my wet socks close to falling off.

He watched with a curious eye, but said nothing.

The judgment from his puckered lips spoke volumes.

I could almost hear him comment about my wardrobe, or going out in the snow in the middle of the night.

I didn’t care. The burning in my fingers and along my cheeks meant my ice-filled veins were warming.

I made it. I wouldn’t die tonight, at least not from the cold.

“Have a seat on the couch.”

He turned, walking through the parlor and into the living room.

With each step, my toes squished in my socks.

The shivering hadn’t subsided, and my limbs remained stiff as I walked.

He didn’t flip on any other lights as he vanished into another room.

Taking a seat on the couch, I thought the warmth would have set in.

Did it mean I wasn’t out of the woods? I should have listened more during my high school first-aid class.

My savior returned without the rifle. He towered as he stood in front of me. He wore sweatpants and a flannel hoodie. I couldn’t guess his age, but I’d say he was north of fifty.

“Here.” He held out a bottle, and I took it, gripping it with two hands.

I recognized the whiskey. Johnnie Walker, an edition far more expensive than anything we kept at the bar.

While the gentleman wandered off, I pulled the cork and took a swig.

Even as it burned, leaving a fire in the pit of my stomach, I took another.

He returned holding a glass. “No manners, I see.”

“Sor-sor-sorry,” I stuttered.

He placed the glass on the coffee table before having a seat opposite me in an old recliner. Carefully, I leaned forward, setting the bottle next to the glass. My savior was more animal than anything I found while hiking. His voice had sounded like he’d growl at any moment.

I wiggled until his couch wrapped around me. We stared in silence for minutes before the shivers mellowed. Somewhere, I heard the rhythmic ticking of a clock. I couldn't handle the awkward nothingness. I didn’t know what to say other than a meager, “Thanks.”

“You have hypothermia,” he said bluntly. It wasn’t judgmental, just a fact. “Your body is going to feel like it’s burning. Expect shivering. Your muscles will hurt.” He laid it out as if he had dealt with this before. Was I the last of many wayward hikers knocking at his door?

The whiskey continued burning, and I thought I might spit flames. Instead of responding and making a fool of myself, I closed my eyes. First, I’d get dry, and then I’d thank him before asking for a ride to my truck. I just needed to get warm, and then I could worry about…