Snow Angels

by Sabrina York

  As they walked, dragging the sled behind them, they talked and joked. Wade felt Lyssa’s disquiet ease. They held hands as they made their way beneath the canopy, and though they touched through layers of gloves, he felt her warmth.

  Sooner than he expected, he saw her car, a cute little Honda tipped sideways in a ditch and mounded with snow. As she dusted it off, he hunkered down to survey the damage. Yeah. It was going to need his winch.

  Fortunately, the locks weren’t iced over. The trunk opened with the press of a button, and together they unloaded the supplies. He stood in the ditch and pulled out items, handing them to her to arrange on the sled.

  Damn, she’d brought a lot of food.

  “Are you sure we need all of this?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “All of it. That too.” She pointed to a bright red shoebox tied up with strings. He nodded and handed it over. When he slammed the trunk, snow shimmied off the roof and she laughed.

  “Anything else?”

  “My suitcase is in the back seat.”

  He hefted it out and set it on the sled, which by now was rather full, so he had to rearrange things. With a grin, he moved the two slabs of bacon to the top of the pile. “We’ll need that first.”

  She chuckled.

  “Is that it?”

  She nodded and he took up the reins of the sled, whistled to Bo, who scampered back from his exploration—wherever that had been—and they took off toward the house.

  As they trudged along the steep track, Wade marveled at the perfection of the day. The trees were dusted with snow. A few glinted with frost. His breath shushed out in a white cloud. A perfect stillness blanketed them.

  He looked down at Lyssa—her cheeks rosy from exertion, and her eyes glimmering—and he wanted to laugh. From the pure joy of the moment. But he was enjoying the silence and peace, too much to make a sound.

  Besides, what they had didn’t require words.

  He liked that.

  Sam had been a chatterbox, filling every silence with a pithy pronouncement or snarky riposte. He’d loved her sense of humor—when she wasn’t driving him crazy. Lyssa was completely different. Her energy, if one could call it that, was tranquil, serene, as though she had seen the world as it was and greeted it with simple acceptance.

  Sam had wanted a fight every step of the way and craved a challenge.

  He’d loved every minute they were together, but had not been under any delusion it was a forever kind of thing. If Sam hadn’t died, they probably wouldn’t still be together. They would have burned each other out long before now.

  His steps slowed as the awareness of what he’d just said to himself hit home.

  If Sam hadn’t died, they probably wouldn’t still be together.

  Hell.

  He hadn’t realized.

  Hadn’t realized he’d been acting as though they still were together. Holding on to something that had died long ago.

  Sam had moved on. Forgiven him. Released him.

  He owed it to himself to do the same.

  And this time with Lyssa—short though it had been—had revealed to him just how alone he’d been. Just how locked up and frozen in time.

  Not anymore. It was as though her touch had melted the ice around his heart and his soul. But he wasn’t renewed. Not by far. There was a gaping, aching wound in his chest. A need. A hunger. Loneliness.

  He didn’t want to be alone anymore.

  His gaze drifted to Lyssa again. Tiny as she was. Fragile and delicate and oh so sweet.

  The ache swelled in the region of his heart.

  Her. He wanted her.

  He wanted….

  He opened his mouth to speak, to break the silence between them, to tell her.

  Bo’s growl forestalled him.

  It wasn’t a growl he’d heard before. Certainly not a “give me your bacon” growl. It was low in his throat and feral. A thread of panic ran through the rumbling tone.

  Wade glanced at the dog. His hackles were up. His back arched. His attention fixed on something up the track. Wade looked in that direction. And froze.

  An enormous black bear, burly and bristling with matted fur, stood between them and safety.

  “Lyssa,” Wade whispered as he threw out an arm, and pushed her behind him. He scanned his memory for any training he’d had on dealing with bears. His brain fizzled and popped. He did remember one thing, if the bear hadn’t noticed you, don’t attract its attention.

  Sadly, Bo had not attended that training. He barked sharply, several times in succession. The bear looked up and spotted them.

  Please God, let it run away.

  It did not run away. It tipped up its nose and sniffed.

  Bo stepped closer, slinking down low to the ground, as though he wanted to pounce. “Bo!” he hissed. “Fuß!”

  Bo glanced back at him, but advanced on the bear.

  Which stood on its hind legs…and roared.

  Cold panic gripped Wade’s bowels as the bear’s lips rippled.

  Shit.

  It was fucking huge.

  “Bo! Fuß!” He didn’t bother with a whisper this time, but it didn’t matter. Both Bo and the bear ignored him, facing off in the clearing. With an aching heart, Wade resolved himself to the fact that he was probably going to lose his dog—his faithful companion—in a moment or two.

  There was no way Bo could battle a five-hundred pound bear and win.

  There was no way any of them could.

  The thought of losing Lyssa, of watching her be mauled by this beast, turned his legs to jelly.

  Heart hammering, he scanned the copse—a panicked search for a climbable tree. The evergreens were tall, but working through the tight branches would be tough. They would never be able to climb fast enough. Bears could climb just fine if they wanted to, and probably faster than humans. The trick was getting higher than they were willing to go.

  He saw a deciduous tree with branches low enough to grab. He edged toward it, pulling Lyssa along, speaking softly, so the bear would know he was a human. And not a meal.

  “Don’t run, Lyssa. Move slowly. Back away. Toward the tree. Do you see it?”

  “Yes.” Her voice, her body, shook.

  “You’re doing fine, sweetie. When we get to the tree, I want you to climb as fast and as high as you can go. Okay?”

  “O-okay.”

  “As high as you can go.”

  “C-can’t bears climb trees?” A squeak.

  He couldn’t lie. “Yeah. But the bear won’t come after you.” They reached the tree and he hefted her up onto the lowest branch.

  “Wh-why won’t the bear come after me?”

  He pulled her down for a quick, desperate kiss. “Because, darling. The bear will be coming after me.” It was the only way to save her. He had to distract the bear.

  “No!”

  “Go.” He glared at her. “Climb high.”

  “Come with me. You climb, too.”

  “Go.”

  Relief gushed through him when she obeyed. For a moment he’d thought she wouldn’t, that she would defy him and leap down from her perch to go face off the bear herself.

  He couldn’t stomach the thought.

  While she made her way up, he shouldered off his backpack and unzipped it. Riffling through it with one hand, he searched for his pepper spray, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on the bear.

  The two animals circled each other, Bo snapping and snarling, the bear issuing spine-chilling roars. And then the bear lunged.

  Wade’s heart shot into his throat. He watched in shock as a huge paw whipped out and swiped his dog. Bo flew through the air at the force of the blow. His cry reverberated through the woods. A sharp yelp…and then silence.

  And in that silence, the bear turned.

  And started for Wade.

  He flicked a quick look at Bo’s prone body, relieved to see movement. But the red stain seeping into the snow curdled his blood.

  His fingers closed on the knif
e.

  Shit. It was a small knife. Why hadn’t he brought the bigger one?

  But still, no knife was a match for wild bear claws.

  He didn’t stand much of a chance. But he had to try. He had to try to save Lyssa.

  She was now high in the tree, watching with wide eyes. “Stay there,” he bellowed, though it was probably not necessary.

  “The bacon!” She yelled.

  His brain short-circuited. Partly because the bear had broken into a trot, and partly because her obsession with bacon was becoming a little extreme. “What?”

  “Throw the bacon!”

  He shouldn’t have glanced at her. He should have kept all his attention on this approaching threat. But he did. He glanced at her to see her pointing…down the ravine.

  And it hit him.

  The bear was hungry.

  He had bacon.

  If he could lure the animal over to the hill, and toss the bacon over…the bear might—just might—follow the scent of food.

  It was a stupid plan. It was in idiotic plan. But it was the only plan he had.

  He edged over to the sled and grabbed a slab of bacon and sliced the plastic packaging. Not much, but enough to let the scent escape.

  The bear stopped. Its nose twitched, and then it advanced, but slowly, as though stalking him.

  Carrying the bacon, Wade sidled toward the steep ravine. The bear followed.

  Holy God, it was huge.

  When the creature was mere feet away, so close Wade could feel the heat of its breath, he pulled back and flung the bacon as far and as hard as he could.

  He prayed God the bear would take the bait. If not, there was only one other thing within mauling reach.

  Him.

  The bacon soared through the air. Wade watched it fly. It didn’t matter if he kept his eye on the bear now; it was far too close for any escape. And a part of him didn’t want to know for certain that death was at his door.

  He nearly collapsed when the animal barreled past him, nearly knocking him over, and skidded down the slope after the food.

  “Jesus God,” he hissed.

  He wanted to sink to his knees—they could barely hold his weight—but there was no time. They needed to leave. Now.

  “Lyssa! Down!” He needn’t have bothered. She was already shimmying down the trunk of the tree. “Run for the cabin. Run.”

  Who know how long the bacon would entertain that bear. It was bound to come back.

  “Get Bo,” she called. And then to his horror, she sprinted, not for the cabin…but for the sled.

  “Lyssa! Forget the food!” he bellowed.

  She ignored him, pawing through the contents of the sled. “Get Bo. I’m right behind you.”

  Goddamn it! “Lyssa!”

  “I’m coming! Get Bo.”

  It wasn’t until she stood—arms loaded—and headed for the cabin, that he made his way to Bo.

  What he found nearly destroyed him. His dog was wounded, and gravely so, with three deep slashes on his side. He gently lifted his friend, taking care not to jostle him too much, and carried him the rest of the way to the cabin. He moved as quickly as he dared. It was probably unwise to keep glancing over his shoulder, but it eased his mind to not see a large black monstrosity hard on his tail.

  She was waiting for him at the door. Once he was through, she closed it and threw the bolt. He didn’t have the heart to tell her a bear could make short work of the flimsy wood panel.

  She’d laid a towel—the one with the pink hearts—on the sofa. He laid Bo on top of it. The dog whined a little with each movement, and panted fiercely. “In the cupboard. An orange bottle marked Rimadyl,” he snapped.

  She tossed something to him and rushed off without a question. When he studied the small package, his heart swelled.

  A first aid kit. God bless her.

  By the time she returned with Bo’s pain medication, he’d cleaned the worst of the wounds. It would be a lie to say it was just a scratch, but he was relieved to see it wasn’t as deep as he’d thought.

  Bo might just survive after all.

  “Good dog,” he said, running his hand down Bo’s flank, checking for any other injuries. Bo’s fur was thick and black and sometimes wounds weren’t obvious at first. Thankfully, he found no others.

  “How many pills should I give him?”

  “Two. We’ll start with two. Then see how he does.”

  Lyssa fed Bo the medication as Wade began covering and wrapping the slashes. Bo cried out as he lifted him, but with Lyssa’s help, they were able to finish quickly. Then she sank to her knees and buried her face in Bo’s neck.

  “Stay with him,” Wade said. “I need to call the ranger station.” He didn’t mean for his voice to be so sharp, but he couldn’t help it. Fury and fear still rang in his mind, thrummed in his veins.

  They had nearly died today. All of them.

  And she’d gone back for bacon.

  He cranked up the ham radio and put in the call, receiving assurance that help was on the way. There was a Wildlife Waystation near the ranger station, and if Bo needed surgery, they would be able to do it. And there his dog could get better relief from the pain.

  When he stepped back into the living room and his eyes lit on Lyssa, all of his anger, his panic, his trepidation, returned.

  Watching her turn and run for the sled—away from safety—had appalled him. Visions of Lyssa, mangled and dying had turned his blood to ice.

  He’d been through that before. He couldn’t face it again.

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  The words just came out. Sharp and harsh and cold.

  She blinked. “What?”

  “What the hell were you thinking? Running back to the sled? Goddamn it, Lyssa. That bear could have come back. Could have attacked you. Could have k—” He couldn’t even say it. Couldn’t speak the word.

  “He was just hungry.”

  “Hungry!” A strangled yelp.

  “He just wanted something to eat.”

  “Yeah. He wanted you!”

  She blew out a snort. “Don’t blow this out of proportion.”

  He gaped at her. “We were just attacked by a bear.” In case she hadn’t noticed.

  “He was just hungry. And technically he didn’t attack.”

  “Lyssa—” Words failed him. Wade raked his fingers through his hair. It didn’t help. “What the hell was so important on that sled that was worth your life?”

  Okay. Maybe he shouldn’t have bellowed so. She shrank in on herself. He winced as he watched her deflate.

  “Lyssa—”

  “I couldn’t leave him there. Not in the snow. Not in the cold. Not with a-a b-bear.”

  Well shit. She was crying.

  He closed the distance between them and wrapped her in his arms. Held her as she sobbed.

  Feeling like a worm.

  “Who was there, honey?” he murmured, rocking her back and forth, as though that could help.

  She glanced up at him, her eyes wide and filled with grief. “J-Jax.”

  “Jax?” The dead boyfriend? Who wouldn’t stop talking to her?

  And why was he suddenly swamped with an overwhelming jealousy?

  For a dead guy?

  “Y-yes.” She hiccupped. “I couldn’t leave him out there.” She leaned closer and whispered, “He’s scared of bears.”

  Wade laughed and pulled her back into his arms. “Honey, I’m scared of bears, too.” Hell, he’d nearly shit his pants when that creature had started lumbering toward him. “So what did you grab, exactly?”

  “Well, the first aid kit of course.” She gestured to the mangled kit on the floor. Had he really ripped it apart in his frenzy to treat Bo? “And Jax.”

  He noticed it then. The red shoebox, the one she’d grabbed from the sled. Tied up with strings.

  His throat worked. “That’s Jax?”

  She nodded. “I brought him here…to say good-bye. He…he always wanted to be sp
rinkled here. But I couldn’t leave him out there. I couldn’t.”

  “Of course not.” He stroked her back. “So you didn’t run back there to grab the rest of the bacon?”

  “No.”

  “Did you grab any of the food?”

  “No.”

  He tried not to put out a lip. She could have grabbed something. He was starved. No matter. The ranger would be here soon. Surely he had something.

  Her lip trembled. “Are you very mad?”

  “I’m not mad. I was scared, honey. Scared to death.” Scared to death he’d lose her.

  “I was fine. Jax said there was time.”

  The tsunami of emotion roiling through him nearly knocked him over. “Jax said there was time? You listened to Jax?”

  “I always listen to Jax.”

  “Stop listening to Jax!” Okay, he knew he was being irrational, but Jax was dead and gone, and he was alive and with her.

  “But—”

  “Stop. Listening. To Jax.” He waved his hand in the air. “Jax, you can go away now. She’s mine.”

  Lyssa froze. Stared at him. Her lips worked. “I-I’m yours?”

  Oh, crap. Had he really said that out loud? “I…would-would you…like to be?”

  Her smile warmed the cockles of his heart. “It bears some exploration.”

  He chuckled, relieved at the warmth in her expression, the glint in her eye. “Please don’t say that word.”

  “Which word?”

  “Bear.” He shuddered. “I don’t want to hear that word ever again.”

  “I’ll try to restrain myself.”

  “I would like to…explore this, though.”

  “As would I.” Her grin flowered, and he couldn’t help but kiss her. She continued grinning all the way through it.

  “What?” he asked when he finally raised his head.

  “I bet you never imagined it would end up like this when we met.”

  He thought back to the first time he saw her, all tiny and elfin and dressed in everything she owned. He’d wanted her even then. “You were pretty cute.”

  She smacked him. “You thought I was a stalker. A calendar groupie.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Only for one month,” she said with a wink. She set her palm to his cheek and went up on her toes to kiss him. “My Mr. December,” she murmured against his lips.

  “Mmm,” he responded.