Snowstorms & Schnapps – Chapter 4

The cold settled in swiftly now that I was inside and the adrenaline of battling the storm was dying off. My entire body trembled, every joint protesting. I couldn’t feel my hands anymore — two useless blocks of ice attached to my arms. I barely registered the coziness of the cabin itself.

Sure, it was snug, but it was homey. The worn leather couches and gigantic stone fireplace casting a golden glow over wood-paneled walls made the place warm and inviting. The scent of burning pinewood lingered in the air, but the cold clung to me, stubborn, refusing to let go. The big difference between his place and mine was it was all just one room and his bed took up the back corner. There was a bathroom in the corner, but from the outside wall, it had to be pretty small.

Jake shucked off his coat and boots with practiced ease, leaving them in a puddle by the door.

“Let’s get settled,” he said, his breath a cloud in the chill air near the entrance. He shot me a quick glance, his blue eyes slicing through the soft light of the room. Concern flickered beneath his calm exterior.

My teeth, rattling as if they were trying to escape my mouth, prevented any witty comeback. I wanted to throw a sarcastic quip his way about the “pleasant walk,” but I just nodded dumbly, more focused on keeping myself upright. I still didn’t know how I made it through that snowstorm without collapsing face-first into the snow.

Jake didn’t waste time. Already, he was grabbing a heavy, plush blanket from a wooden chest near the fireplace.

“Here, come closer to the fire,” he urged, tossing in another log as the fire crackled and spit embers. The room warmed further, the orange glow dancing off the rough wood beams overhead.

I shuffled closer to the fire like some frozen penguin, trying not to trip over my half-numb limbs. The fire’s heat was almost too much to handle after the ice-walk we’d just endured. Stinging pain radiated through my hands as I lifted them toward the crackling flames, trying to return the feeling to my numb fingers. When I couldn’t anymore, I folded in on myself, wrapping the blanket tighter around my body.

“You’re shivering,” Jake said, his observant gaze landing on me.

I forced out a laugh, which sounded like teeth-clicking. “Just a little. Completely normal when you decide to take… a freezing death hike.”

He didn’t laugh this time. Instead, his brow creased with concern. “Let me see your hands.”

“What?”

Jake’s jaw flexed, impatience tugging at the edges of his calm demeanor. “Your hands. Now.”

I raised them without further protest, presenting my stiff, claw-like fingers. I watched, fascinated and horrified, as Jake took them in his own. His hands were warm… soooooooo warm. The startling difference in temperature between his large, calloused hands and my icy ones sent a shiver through me, and I wasn’t sure if it came from the cold or from the unexpected intimacy.

He inspected my fingers, turning them over. He checked both sides like he was cataloging some hard-won specimen, his jaw set into a rigid line. “You’re practically ice,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “A few more minutes out there, and you’d have been in real trouble.”

I wanted to respond with something clever, something to lessen the growing sense of worry bubbling between us, but all I could manage was a breathless, “Great. Add it to my long list of questionable life choices.” My voice came out weak, betraying how rattled I really was.

Without a word, Jake pulled a wooden chair by the fire and motioned for me to sit. “Here. Sit down. We’ve gotta get you warmed up.”

The firmness in his voice struck me like an icicle straight through the chest. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew he was right. I lowered myself into the chair, still clinging to the blanket, while my sore muscles sighed in relief.

“You’re not messing around, are you?” I muttered, watching him crouch down in front of me, his presence somehow equal parts comforting and unnerving.

He met my gaze before returning his attention to my hands and stretching them toward the fire. “When it’s life or death, no.”

His words sent a small jolt of warmth through a part of me that wasn’t just cold. I peered down at our hands — his gently holding mine. Steady. Calm. He was more than a mountain man pretending to survive; he cared enough to make sure I didn’t lose a finger or two. And yeah, that might’ve been his basic instincts kicking in, but it still… felt like something more.

“You always get this intense?” I mumbled, wincing as sharp pins of sensation returned to my fingers. “Or am I just special?”

Jake didn’t look up this time as he massaged the warmth back into my hands. “When someone’s in danger in front of me, yeah, I get intense.”

There was no humor in his voice.

“Fair point.” I let out a small breath, fighting the pain that came as feeling returned to my fingers. “Honestly, I think my ego hurts more than my hands.”

Jake glanced up, and the humor returned to his gaze. “Your hands will warm up. Can’t guarantee anything about your ego.”

I let out a breathy laugh and winced as feeling rushed back into my fingers. Ow. “You’re lucky I can barely move right now — otherwise, I’d have a witty retort ready.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky then.” He let go of my hands after another moment. The absence of his warmth left my hands cold again. I sandwiched them between my legs.

“I’m fine,” I said, more for my benefit than his. “This is what I came here for, right? The whole isolating ‘live-like-a-hermit’ thing. Minus the whole ‘dying-of-hypothermia’ part.”