Great and Precious Things

by Rebecca Yarros

  I flung open the passenger door of her 4Runner and ripped at my helmet. “Are you hurt?” I asked before I had it all the way off.

  “No,” she promised with a shake of her head. “You came all the way in this on the snowmobile?”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t cutting across the property in the Jeep, and to be honest, I probably wouldn’t have made it. I don’t know how you made it.” Snow hit the exposed back of my neck as I leaned in.

  “I didn’t. Hence me calling,” she admitted with a sheepish crinkle in her nose. “I’m so sorry you had to come.”

  “I didn’t have to, Willow. I chose to.” That was partly a lie. Sure, there was some freewill argument to be had, but all my choices when it came to Willow had been made decades ago. She called. I came. It was that simple. And that complicated.

  “The front left tire is flat—” she started.

  “Doesn’t matter. We can’t get to it in this anyway. Now, let’s go. The snow is only getting deeper.” I scanned her frame as I talked, taking in her hat, coat, and gloves, down to— “Holy shit, are you wearing a skirt?”

  That crinkle was back. “Well, yes. I was—”

  “Again, doesn’t matter. Shit. Wait here.” I closed the door and pivoted to face the Cat. Unbuckling the saddlebags was a pain with my gloves, but I wasn’t risking losing them in this. I’d get frostbite before we could make it back to the house.

  I yanked my old set of spare riding pants and sent a quick thank-you Uncle Cal’s way for not having cleaned them out of the under-seat storage. Then I snapped the strap and freed the extra helmet I’d brought her and walked back to her door.

  “Take these,” I said, thrusting the clothes at her with one hand as I slid into her passenger seat and shut the door behind me. “I brought you a helmet, too.” Not that I had to say that, since it currently consumed my lap.

  “Thank you,” she responded, already shucking her boots to shimmy into the snow pants.

  “What the hell are you doing out in this?” I questioned, keeping my eyes front and center and not on the slide of her hips as she worked the pants up.

  “Vehicular sledding.”

  I looked her way with a raised eyebrow.

  “I was having dinner with my parents, which I was trying to tell you, but you kept cutting me off.”

  “You should have stayed with your parents.”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious.” She snapped the pants, then unzipped her skirt and started working it down.

  This was definitely not the way I’d ever pictured getting Willow Bradley’s skirt off in a car. Not that I’d ever— Okay, yes, I had. A lot.

  “Trust me, if I’d realized this was going to happen, I would have gone down the mountain, not up it. But I wasn’t staying with Dad. Not with his mood.” She cleared the skirt and threw it in the back seat.

  “Sorry I cut you off, but I’m worried about getting back and didn’t realize you’d need to change.”

  “You figured I drove around in a snowsuit?” She grinned.

  “Something like that.” I looked away quickly. The fact that she could find something funny in just about every situation was one of her most attractive qualities, but I didn’t have time for that right now. “It’s about twenty minutes back to my place.” I dropped my gloves on the center console and warmed my hands in front of the vents.

  “We’re closer to mine,” she argued as she braided her hair with quick fingers. Smart girl. The wind would blow it all over the place if she left it loose.

  “By maybe thirty feet,” I countered. “Besides, I know the terrain back to my place better, and visibility isn’t exactly stellar right now.” I caught a smirk and pounced before she could speak. “So help me, Willow, if you even suggest that you drive…”

  She laughed. “Come on, it was a valid thought.”

  I knew she was skilled on a Cat, but that didn’t mean I was willing to give up control when her life was at stake. Using the time, I fired off a quick group text to Gideon and Xander.

  Camden: Willow got stuck. I’m taking her back to my place with the Cat. We’re taking the route above the hot springs.

  There. Now, if things went royally wrong, they’d know where to look.

  Gideon: Power station just failed. Keep her warm. ;)

  “What kind of power are you running?” I asked her, shaking my head at Gid’s comment.

  Her brow puckered. “Town electric.”

  Xander: Okay. Stay safe. I’m at Dad’s, setting up the generator.

  Xander: Gideon, shut the hell up. Cam, keep your hands on the throttle.

  “I win. Town power is out, and I have a solar bank that can power a space station or a small doomsday cult. We’re going to my place. Shut off the car and let’s go before we end up here for the night.” I handed Willow her helmet, then opened the door and got out, not giving her the chance to argue. We were wasting time we might not have.

  My phone buzzed repeatedly as I fastened my own helmet again.

  Gideon: I believe that’s what I said.

  Xander: You’re lucky it’s snowing.

  Gideon: Yeah, yeah. Cam, text when you get there.

  Cam: Will do on all accounts.

  I zipped my phone into my coat and brushed the snow from the seats of the Cat, grateful that it was a 2-up and not a single.

  She trudged over, the snow up to her knees as she buckled her helmet.

  I checked it like she was eight again. Old habits and whatnot. I flipped the buttons on the helmets and then the dash, bringing the headsets online.

  “Can you hear me?” I asked.

  “Gotcha,” she acknowledged.

  We climbed on, and Willow reached for the passenger handles as I settled into the driver’s seat.

  I will never see Willow Bradley again. I was really going to have to modify that fucking vow. Maybe something like I’ll never touch Willow Bradley.

  Yeah, that could work.

  I gave the Cat some gas, and we left Willow’s 4Runner to the storm, heading back up the ridgeline. My earlier tracks were already gone. GPS told me we’d passed the hot springs down the ridgeline to the east, but I couldn’t see shit.

  “We’re turning down the ridge,” I warned her.

  “Okay,” she responded. “I can’t believe how bad it is. I can hardly see you, and you’re right in front of me.”

  I could barely feel her, too. She was leaning back in the passenger seat, no doubt to give me space. We weren’t exactly snuggle buddies.

  But we were about to be.

  “Lean forward and hold on to me,” I ordered. It was better for turns and for traversing, and she knew it. At least, I hoped she did.

  Her weight settled against me as we started downhill, and her hands clasped first at my waist, then into the fabric of my jacket itself.

  I’d never been so glad for a snowstorm to distract me in my entire life.

  “You okay?” I asked, using one hand to guide hers to the loops on the bright-orange vest I’d donned in case of emergency. “Is that easier?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Her grip tightened.

  She didn’t sound breathless. Nope. She sounded…nervous, which was understandable. Willow Bradley would never be breathless near me unless she was winded from screaming at me.

  We crossed the plain between the ridgelines, the snow coming at us in the headlights like we were at warp speed.

  “It’s beautiful, in its own little, dangerous way,” she remarked, her helmet resting between my spine and right shoulder blade.

  “Most everything that can hurt you is.”

  She sighed softly but didn’t reply.

  We climbed the last ridge, and I was careful to stick to the path I knew didn’t have random boulders that could throw us or a chain.

  “I see it!” she exclaimed as we crested th
e ridge and Elba came into view.

  “Almost there,” I assured her. We’d made it. Even if the Cat died right now, I could carry her the distance.

  I brought us around the back of the house and pulled into the driveway. “You go ahead inside, and I’ll pull it in,” I told her as I climbed off the Cat.

  “You don’t need help?” she asked, her gaze obscured by the tinted visors of our helmets.

  “No, go get warm.” I walked to the garage and punched the code into the panel. The door rose, and Willow slipped inside.

  I quickly pulled the Cat into the little bay it called home and closed us in. Then I unfastened my helmet and set it in the metal locker that soon held my coat, snow pants, and boots, too. Willow’s coat and boots were already there.

  My athletic pants were damp with sweat despite the temperatures outside, and I crossed over to the power shed in my socks. Once I was satisfied that all the batteries were full, I closed it up and headed inside.

  Warmth and the smell of something sweet welcomed me as the tension drained from my muscles. I hadn’t realized how anxious I’d been until the anxiety left.

  She was safe. She was warm. She was here.

  Fuck, what if I hadn’t come home? I leaned back against the door as the weight of that possibility took me down. If Dad hadn’t left that voicemail. If I hadn’t acted on it… Where would she be?

  “Hey.”

  My gaze shot up to meet hers as she stood across from me in the entry hall, a steaming cup in her hands. Even though she’d rolled them at the waist several times, my snow pants were huge on her. Her long-sleeve shirt contrasted the ill fit, holding close to her curves, and the tail of her frayed braid fell over her shoulder to end just beneath her breast. Her cheeks and lips were pink from the cold, and her eyes were bright. I’d seen her in almost every way, from tank tops and overalls in the summer to a ball gown on prom night.

  She’d never looked more beautiful to me than she did in this moment.

  I was so fucked. So. Very. Fucked.

  She crossed the floor and held out the mug. “I made you some hot chocolate. I checked the dates and everything.”

  I reached out and took the mug from her, our fingers brushing in the exchange. It was somehow more intimate than having her arms wrapped around me the entire ride home.

  “Thank you,” I told her, my voice so rough, I barely recognized it. “I bought it, so it’s good. Plus I threw out anything that had been left here.”

  “I never figured you for a hot chocolate guy.”

  “I’m a sucker for sweet things,” I admitted, letting the mug warm my hand before drinking half of it down.

  Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink.

  “Did you make one for you?” I asked.

  She nodded. “It’s in the kitchen.” When she headed that way, I followed, silently laughing that the bottom of my snow pants dragged on the floor.

  Willow was a lot of things. Tall wasn’t one of them.

  “Why don’t you get out of those?” I suggested as she gripped her mug. “You’ll warm up a lot faster.”

  “Only tights, remember?” She cocked her head to the side.

  “Right.” I had been doing my best to ignore that fact when she’d changed. “Okay, what are you most comfortable in? My pants are going to be huge on you, but you can roll them, or shorts? A hoodie?”

  “Yes, please,” she responded with a smile. “I’ll take whatever you have. I’m not picky.”

  I excused myself and went through my closet, pulling out pants, shorts, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. Oh, and some thick socks, too. Then I fired off a text message to Gideon and Xander that we’d made it safely before taking a two-minute shower and getting into some clean clothes.

  “I’m fine,” I heard her saying as I walked down the hallway to the kitchen.

  “Mom, just tell him that I’m fine. No, I don’t need him to come hook up my generator.”

  Her back was to me as she stared out the kitchen window.

  “Because I know how to hook up my own generator, that’s why.” She sighed, and her head rolled back a little. “And because I’m at Cam’s. I slid off the road, and he came and got me. No, don’t tell him that. He’s liable to head out with a shotgun and get himself killed in this weather.”

  Good ol’ Judge Bradley. He’d definitely shit bricks if he knew she was about to wear my clothes to bed in my house. A small slice of satisfaction had me smiling when Willow hung up with her mom.

  “Here you go.” I offered her the clothes. “You can get changed if you want, or take a shower or whatever, and I’ll start a fire.”

  “Thank you.” She looked down the hall and hesitated.

  “You can use my room if you want. I haven’t gone through Cal’s yet. Shower is—”

  “Connected to the bedroom,” she finished with a small smile. “I remember. Be right back.”

  She disappeared into my bedroom, and I started a fire in the living room fireplace. The solar batteries would hold—I wasn’t worried—but there was something to be said for a fire on a night like this. When I carried the last load of wood in from the garage, I found Willow sitting in front of the flames, pulling a tiny brush through her wet hair.

  “Let me help,” she offered, climbing to her feet. The socks came up to her knees, and she had my athletic shorts rolled a few times, leaving only her knees bare. My hoodie engulfed her, hitting her just below mid-thigh, and she had the sleeves rolled on that, too.

  “I’ve got it,” I told her and added the stack to the log rack that sat at the end of the mantel. “Where were you hiding a brush?”

  She popped the back, and it compressed into an even tinier rectangle. “I managed to strap my purse on under my coat. Good thing, too, since I have my wallet and all those important things.”

  “Because you were planning on taking a trip to the store?” I teased as we both sat. She curled her legs under her, and I brought up my knees to brace my elbows as we both stared into the fire.

  “I bet you think I’m the biggest damsel ever.”

  “What?”

  “Damsel. You know, ‘save me!’” She waved her hands in the air and shook them, still looking into the flames.

  “Why would I think you’re a damsel?” I questioned.

  “You’ve been home what, two weeks? And now you’ve had to come to my rescue twice.” She shrugged, but I knew she wasn’t taking it as casually as she made it seem.

  “Okay, well, I’ve been home more like two and a half weeks, and last time I checked, you’ve done your fair share of saving me, too.”

  She shot me a puzzled look.

  “You stood up in front of the entire town, and you took my side when you didn’t have to. When you knew it was going to cost you. I may have taken a bullet for you, but you took on your dad for me. I’d say that counts us as even for this go-round.” A side of my mouth drifted up.

  “This go-round?”

  “Well, if we were keeping score.” I raised my eyebrows. “I can remember a certain episode where you took out my dad’s baseball bat and charged Scott Malone to come to my rescue.” It was one of my favorite memories of her.

  “That hardly counts! You were in a fight with him because of me. Yet another example of you coming to my rescue.”

  “You were a twelve-year-old girl with a bat. I didn’t rescue you; I just gave you time to choose your weapon wisely. Man, you were pissed.” I grinned at the memory. The next day I’d broken into her locker and left the knight—the first of our chess pieces.

  “Well, yeah, he’d called me an ugly boy and asked why I didn’t look more like Charity, and it wasn’t the first time. But when he put all that mud in my backpack, I was done.” Her cheeks flushed. “Then you flew at him, and what was I supposed to do? Let you take him on? Not with those other boys joining in.”

 
; “Exactly. You didn’t need saving. You just needed a head start.” I laughed.

  “Fine, what about that time I got stuck in the pine tree up on your dad’s land? You had to climb up for me,” she challenged.

  “Doesn’t count. You were getting the Frisbee I’d thrown, and man, you’d scrambled up there so fast, I didn’t even have time to beat you to the tree.” I shook my head. “You would have made it if you hadn’t gotten your braid caught.”

  “Fair point. I almost chopped it all off that summer.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t.” Shit, I hadn’t meant to say that.

  Her eyes widened.

  I could either back down or own it. What the hell.

  “Your hair is beautiful, and I know you like it long. You would have regretted it. Now, when you got gum stuck in it, that’s when I thought the scissors were coming out.”

  She huffed. “I didn’t get gum stuck in it. Sullivan dropped it in my hair.” Her forehead puckered. “What were we? Ten?”

  I nodded. “It was the summer Mom died, so yeah, you were ten.”

  “She spent an hour getting it out so I wouldn’t have to tell my mom,” she said softly, a wistful smile sweeping across her face.

  “She was pretty amazing like that. Plus, she knew it was my fault, so she was quick to cover for me.” I looked up to the picture on the mantel, in which Mom stood smiling with the three of us decked out in ties for her last Mother’s Day. Except she hadn’t known it was her last.

  “How can you possibly blame Sullivan’s choice on yourself?” She flat-out glared at me.

  “Oh come on, you didn’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “He only did it because he was mad that we were going out to the hot springs without him. Remember? He didn’t finish his chores, so he wasn’t allowed to go, and he sure as hell didn’t want you going with me.” Man, he’d been so jealous, already staking his claim on the girl who hadn’t noticed that she was his world.

  “Are you serious?” Her nose scrunched. “Oh my God, and you finished his chores while your mom got the gum out,” she remembered, looking up at the same picture.

  “Yep.” Should have seen that as the foreshadowing that it was.