Page 2

Chapter 2

Caleb

C aleb didn’t want to get out of bed.

At the beginning of winter, it always felt decadent and a little naughty, spending more and more time in bed. He’d get up, stoke the fire and make himself some hot chocolate, then curl up under the blanket and stay there.

By February, he just didn’t feel like moving. It wasn’t decadent. There was no chocolate. It felt like too damn much work to get up and put a log on the fire, and the only reason he did that was because if he didn’t, he’d have to light the damn thing over again, which was more work.

That, in fact, was the only reason he got out of bed. It was still damn cold outside, and he wasn’t going to freeze to death from sheer laziness.

It was just... he was starting to wonder why not.

He’d moved out into the woods to be alone, sure. He didn’t like most people, fine. Who did?

But as much of a misanthrope as he was, Caleb was lonely. He didn’t want to move back to the city and pretend to like people again or anything, it would just be nice if he had someone to talk to. Someone to snuggle up with him under the blanket all winter.

Maybe then it wouldn’t be so hard to care when spring came.

There was a sharp knock at the door, and he cringed.

Sure, he was alone, but he knew that knock and it was company he could do without. “Go away, witch.”

“I’m not a witch, I’m?—”

“Yes, you are, and I don’t know why you persist in saying you’re my wife when I tell you to go away.” He pulled the blanket over his head, like that would get rid of her. “It’s creepy.”

“Oh, for—watch a movie sometime, ya dink. The Princess Bride is a classic. You’re as bad as the monster you’re neighbors with. And open up, I’m freezing my ass off out here.” She knocked again, as though he’d have forgotten where the door was in the meantime.

She always mentioned the Poisonwood monster whenever she was annoyed about him being antisocial, like he was going to turn into a monster himself if he didn’t go clubbing. He sighed and got out of bed, dragging himself over to the door and opening it just far enough to admit one tiny annoying witch. Then he tromped back over to his bed and pulled the blanket over himself again.

“Really?” she asked, sounding irritated already. “You answer the door in your underwear, don’t even offer me a drink, and you’ve let your fire go out?”

“I’m not under a hospitality geas,” he retorted. “It’s my house. I’m allowed to be in my underwear. You know where the water is—get it yourself if you want it. If you’re going to compare me to a feral forest spirit, I might as well act like one. And...”

“And?”

“I didn’t feel like getting up.”

There was a sharp snap, and the room filled with warmth a second later. “You’re absolutely the worst, Caleb.”

“Funny, I don’t remember coming to your house in the middle of your hibernation and demanding you see to my needs.” Giving up on getting back to sleep, he whipped the blanket down and glared at her. “What do you want?”

“First of all,” she said, and held her fingers up like she was going to make a list. Oh gods, she was going to make a list. “This is not the middle of your hibernation, dillhole. It’s spring. You should be out catching salmon or whatever it is you do when you need to fatten yourself up again.”

“I’m still tired.”

“You’re not.”

“Then explain why I’m trying to sleep?” He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. The floor was still icy cold, even though she’d restarted the fire as a near inferno, and he almost pulled his feet back up. “Better yet, explain why you’re keeping me from sleeping.”

She looked down at her fingers blankly for a moment like she was trying to remember the next item on her list, then shrugged it off. “You’re done hibernating. Winter is over. And I swear, if you tell me winter is coming...”

“Winter is always coming.”

She pulled off a mitten and threw it at his head. “It’s time to get up and get back to life, Caleb. No more hiding from the world and sleeping all the time.”

“I’m a bear, it’s what I do.”

“Again, it’s spring. For fuck’s sake, at least get up and watch some TV.” She waved at the dusty television hanging on the wall in front of the equally dusty couch.

“I don’t watch TV.”

She put her head in her hands. “I swear, Caleb. You’re a bear, not a stick in the mud. Stop acting like one. I got you a satellite dish specifically so you’d have other people in your life, even if they were fictional.” She marched over to his refrigerator and opened it up, groaning again. “And go to the grocery store. Or catch some fish or gather some berries or whatever it is you came out to the middle of nowhere to do. Just do something. I’m begging you.”

At that, he gave up, pulled his feet into the bed, drew the blanket up again, and rolled over so his back was facing her. “Go away, Poppy.”

With grim and heavy satisfaction, he heard her growl and stomp out, slamming the door of his cabin behind her.