Sunlight spilled across the cabin floor when I woke, a pale gold that seemed almost unreal after so many days of white. The snow had stopped. The wind had gone quiet. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world was still.
Amelia was still asleep beside me, her breathing even, her face soft and peaceful. I watched her for a moment longer than I meant to, then carefully slid out of bed. The fire had burned low, so I fed it a few of the logs I'd split yesterday and coaxed the flames back to life.
"Good morning," came a husky voice from the bed.
I turned, caught off guard. "Good morning. How's the pain?"
"Much better." She pushed herself upright, wincing slightly. "How long was I out?"
I shrugged. "Couple of days, maybe. Hard to say exactly."
Her brows drew together. "You don't have a phone?"
"I leave it in the car when I climb," I explained. "Don't like distractions."
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand. I jumped forward instinctively.
"I can manage, Brandon," she said firmly, leaning against the wall for balance.
I held back, but my eyes tracked her every step as she limped to the bathroom.
By the time she returned, I had porridge steaming in two bowls. She sat carefully at the table.
"Thank you," she murmured, not looking up at me.
"It's nothing."
Her eyes flicked to mine then, just briefly. "No. Thank you for looking after me. For… everything."
I didn't know what to say, so I asked the first thing that came to mind. "How long have you lived out here, Amelia?"
"A few months."
"Where's your family? Don't they —"
The door banged open.
Cold air swept in with a tall figure bundled in a khaki parka. She pulled down her hood and grinned at Amelia.
"I see you've made a friend."
Amelia gave the smallest smile. "Kelly, this is Brandon. Brandon, Kelly."
Kelly shook my hand warmly. "Lovely to meet you. How on earth did you two cross paths?"
I told her about the storm, how I'd found Amelia. Kelly's gaze sharpened when she heard Amelia was injured.
"Let me see."
Before Amelia could argue, Kelly was gently peeling away the bandage. "Clean," she said with approval. "But you'll need stitches."
"I'm not going anywhere," Amelia muttered.
"You don't have to. I can do it here." Kelly disappeared outside and returned moments later with a medical bag.
As she worked, I explained about Amelia's fever, how I'd wiped her brow and kept her fed and given her painkillers. It felt important she knew I hadn't just sat by uselessly.
Kelly listened, nodding. "You did well."
When she finished, she wrapped Amelia's arm in fresh gauze and tested her ankle. "Sprain. Keep it elevated."
Amelia barely acknowledged her. Instead, she looked at me and said, almost too casually, "Brandon will probably head home now the storm's over. I'm sure he has a girlfriend waiting."
Kelly's eyes flicked to mine.
"No girlfriend," I said evenly. "But my sister's probably frantic." I turned to Kelly. "May I borrow your phone?"
She handed it over without question. While she stepped outside again, I called Julie.
She answered on the second ring. "Brandon? Oh my God, where are you?"
Relief washed through me at the sound of her voice. "I'm fine. Don't worry. Got caught in the blizzard, found a cabin. There's food, heat. I'll come down once it's safe."
"Don't vanish on me again," she said, her voice cracking just slightly.
"I won't. I love you, Jules."
"I love you too."
I hung up as Kelly reappeared, arms full of grocery bags.
"I bring Amelia supplies once a week," she explained, setting them down. "Fresh produce, milk, plenty of tins."
"You live up here too?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I have a cabin further up, I don't live there though. I like the quiet. Amelia and I met by chance."
"Why is she up here? It's so isolated," I asked.
She glanced at the bed, where Amelia had drifted back to sleep. "She has her reasons for being here. That's her story to tell. She's lucky you found her."
I busied myself putting the groceries away. "I'm the lucky one," I muttered.
Kelly studied me. "You're humble. Most men wouldn't have known what to do. You've done an excellent job looking after her."
I shrugged, uncomfortable under the praise. "Amelia said you're a doctor?"
"Retired trauma surgeon," she corrected, smiling faintly at my raised brows. "I'm sixty-seven."
"You don't look a day over forty."
She laughed. "I still volunteer. Keeps me sharp."
We drank our tea, steam curling in the quiet.
"What do you do when you're not climbing mountains?" she asked.
"Data analyst. Numbers, screens, the usual."
"Then it makes sense you need this." She gestured toward the window, the endless sweep of snow.
"Exactly."
"You and Amelia," she said softly, "aren't so different."
I followed her gaze to the sleeping figure on the bed. My chest tightened.
"We've hardly spoken," I admitted. "I don't know anything about her."
"But you'd like to."
I didn't answer. Instead, I poured her more tea.