Amelia's POV
The next three days slipped by in a hush of snow and soft glances, quiet as a held breath. There were no grand events, no declarations, just the warm, easy rhythm of two people who had found a rare kind of peace in each other's presence.
Brandon and I existed in a quiet closeness that needed no explanation. We shared a few kisses—tender, unhurried moments that felt more like promises than passion—and our fingers would often find each other in the silence, brushing together on a blanket or resting side by side as we read.
The stillness between us never turned awkward. If anything, it felt familiar, like coming home. Brandon moved through the cabin with a kind of quiet grace, his every gesture deliberate, unrushed. When he spoke, it was in that low, thoughtful tone I had come to anticipate, as though he was offering me a piece of himself with every word.
Kelly arrived just as we finished breakfast, the wind tossing snowflakes into the cabin with her as she stepped inside, stamping her boots and shaking off the cold. We welcomed her with warm smiles and a tight hug.
"How's the hospital?" I asked as she shrugged off her coat and set her bag down.
"Still a madhouse," she said, rolling her eyes. "Icy roads, bruised hips, broken wrists. You'd think people would learn to stay indoors when the world's turned to glass."
She leaned over to inspect the healing gash on my arm, eyes narrowing in a professional squint. Then she smiled and gave an approving nod.
"Well done, nurse Brandon," she said. "Time to get these stitches out, missy."
As she reached into her bag, Brandon was already pulling on his coat and gloves.
"I'll go fetch some more firewood," he said, flashing me a glance before heading out, axe in hand, disappearing into the white.
Kelly watched the door swing shut behind him, then turned to me with a wicked little grin. "So," she said, drawing out the word, "you two seem cosy."
I blinked. "What are you talking about?"
Her smile only widened.
"Tell me I'm wrong," Kelly said with a shrug, the corner of her mouth twitching like she already knew she wasn't.
I let out a short huff, turning my gaze to the frost-laced window. The trees outside stood still, draped in white like they were holding their breath.
"You're seeing things," I said, folding my hands in my lap like a schoolgirl caught in a lie.
Kelly chuckled softly, her fingers steady as she worked on my stitches. "You're not a very good liar."
I scowled, but she didn't look up. She didn't need to.
"He's handsome, kind, and has spent several days up here taking care of you when he had no obligation to," she went on, her tone maddeningly reasonable.
"There was a blizzard," I muttered, more to the window than to her. "He was stuck here. It's not like he chose to be here."
"Mmhmm," she hummed, rinsing her hands with practiced efficiency. "I'm sure he'll be gone the moment the roads are clear. Any minute now."
I shot her a look, but she was already tucking away her supplies like she hadn't just cracked me open and poked around.
She changed the subject with a briskness that only made her previous words echo louder.
"How's the ankle?" she asked, glancing up at me as she closed her bag.
"Much better, thank you. I can stand on it without pain now."
"Good. Just don't get cocky," she said, giving me a pointed look. "You still need to be careful—no sudden movements, no long walks, no chasing after mysterious woodcutters in the snow."
"I'm hardly going to run a marathon, Kelly."
She smirked. "No, but maybe a slow dance in front of the fire?"
I groaned, and she laughed as the door opened and Brandon came in carrying the chopped logs.
"I'll be back tomorrow evening. Anything you need from town?" Kelly asked, glancing between Brandon and me as she zipped up her coat.
"You're leaving already?" Brandon asked, and something in his tone made my stomach twist. Had he had enough of being cooped up here — with me?
"Duty calls," she said with a light sigh, reaching into her bag and handing me a small bottle. "Here are some painkillers, just in case."
Then she paused, mischief lighting her eyes. "And don't do anything I wouldn't do, kids." She winked at me with exaggerated flair.
Brandon flushed instantly, his gaze dropping to the table as if it had suddenly become very interesting. The tips of his ears turned pink.
The sight of him like that — shy, flustered — sparked something soft in my chest, but it was quickly chased by guilt. He must be counting the hours until he could leave, itching to get back to his real life. To warmth that wasn't wrapped up in snowstorms and awkward silences.
He could've gone with her in her 4x4 . But he didn't say a word. No mention of packing up, of escaping the cabin or the strange little bubble we'd found ourselves in.
And maybe that meant nothing. Maybe he was just being polite.
But I couldn't help the flicker of hope that he was choosing to stay. That, even if only for a little while longer, he wanted to be here — with me.
I was only just beginning to understand him, and selfish as it was, I wasn't ready to let him go. Not yet.
The door clicked shut behind Kelly, and the cabin fell quiet again, the kind of quiet that felt heavier now. Brandon stood by the table, still looking down, his cheeks slightly flushed from her teasing.
I cleared my throat. "Well… that wasn't awkward at all."
He let out a soft laugh, finally looking up. "She's got a way of making exits, doesn't she?"
"She lives to embarrass me," I said, moving ttomake the bed, mostly to give my hands something to do.
Brandon joined me without a word, brushing against me as he reached for the duvet. The contact sent a little current through me, too quick to hold onto but impossible to ignore.
We moved around each other in easy silence, like we'd been doing this for years, not just a handful of days. When we were done, I turned to find him looking out of the window, at the snow-covered world beyond.
"I guess you could've gone back with her," I said, trying to sound casual, though my heart thudded a little harder in my chest. "You know… if you wanted to."
He glanced over his shoulder at me, a strange softness in his eyes. "I know. But I didn't."
I nodded, unsure what to say to that. Grateful. Relieved. Confused by how much it mattered to me.
Outside, the snow was still falling gently, but the worst of the storm had passed. The world looked calm again, untouched. A blank page.
"Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked suddenly. "Just around the clearing? Get some air?"
I hesitated, then smiled. "Sure. I think my ankle's up for that."
He reached for our coats and handed me mine. Our fingers brushed again — another spark — and I pretended not to notice, even though I was pretty sure he did too.
As we stepped out into the cold, the air sharp against our cheeks, I couldn't help thinking that something had shifted. Just a little.
But enough.