Page 50 of Snowed in With the Yeti

“The store has great space for gaming,” Everest confirmed. “Plus snacks. I have an unreasonable amount of snacks in my inventory.”

“Sounds perfect,” Maya said, and her smile was radiant. “First official game night at Heidi’s new place in two weeks? We can all sit on the floor, because that’s the only way these two guys are fitting in that room.” Maya handed Heidi the apartment keys. “Geoff and I will stop by tomorrow to get my clothes. Everything else in there is yours. Fridge is fully stocked.”

We all agreed, and as we finalized the plans, I felt at peace.

As Everest and Heidi prepared to leave, bundling back into their winter gear, Heidi turned to me.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For being kind. For understanding. For making me feel welcome instead of like an imposition. And thank you for loving Maya the way she deserves.”

“You’re not an imposition,” I told her. “You’re Maya’s friend, which makes you our friend. That’s how this works.”

She hugged me and I awkwardly patted her back, unused to physical affection from anyone but Maya. But it was nice. Human connection was still strange to me, but I was learning to appreciate it.

After they left, Maya and I stood on the porch, watching Everest’s truck navigate down the mountain road. The sun was setting, and the snow shimmered in a rainbow of colors.

“You really meant it?” I asked. “About this being home?”

Maya leaned against my side, and I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I really meant it. The apartment is nice, but it’s a place without a soul. This cabin, with you, this is home. This is where I want to be.”

“Even though I’m a reclusive Yeti who lives on a mountain?”

“Especially because you’re a reclusive Yeti who lives on a mountain.” She tilted her head to look up at me. “You saved my life, Geoff. But more than that, you gave me a space to be myself. No expectations, no judgments. What you’ve given me is worth more than any apartment.”

I kissed the top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. “You can officially move in, you know. Make it legal. We can get your mail forwarded and everything.”

“Such a romantic,” she teased, but her smile was soft. “Yeah. Let’s do it. Let’s make it official.”

We stayed on the porch until the cold drove us inside, then spent the evening playing more games, making dinner together, existing in comfortable quiet.

Later, as we were getting ready for bed, Maya paused in the bathroom doorway.

“Hey Geoff?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad my car crashed that day and you were the person who rescued me.”

I looked at her, this human woman who’d stumbled into my life during a blizzard and decided to stay. “Me too,” I said. “Me too.”

As I turned off the lights and followed Maya to our bedroom, because this was our home now, I thought about Heidi’s question from earlier. About what love looked like.

I decided it looked like this, with trust and freedom and choice. Love was about opening your door to friends in need and making space for new connections. Love was growth and finding someone who saw past your differences to the person underneath.

It looked like home.

And for the first time in my life, I had one.