I shook my head. “No. I’m going to scrap it and rewrite the whole thing.” I shrugged. “Or not. Maybe the series was never meant to continue after three books.”

  CJ looked pained at the thought. “I’m sorry.”

  I stood. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. All you’ve done is be honest. It is what it is.”

  He came to stand in front of me. “It doesn’t make you a bad writer, you know.”

  I took a moment to digest his words. “If you’d told me that a few days ago, I probably would have argued with you, but I think you’re right. I was trying to force something that didn’t want to be written. I wasn’t in the right state of mind to write emotional characters whose lives had been changed overnight. I just didn’t get it.”

  CJ cocked his head to one side and looked hopeful. “So you don’t hate me?”

  I shook my head. “Not even slightly.” And then I stole a kiss because that was all I tended to think about when CJ was right there in front of me.

  CJ was pacing when I got back from the hotel and walked into his cabin, the door having been left unlocked. It only occurred to me after that perhaps I should have knocked. He turned as I entered, looking confused as I hoisted the brown paper bag high and said “ta da!”

  “The surprise is a bag.”

  I grinned at him. “The surprise is that this bag contains enough food for breakfast and lunch.” I lowered it to peer inside. “Actually, by the looks of it, it would spread to dinner as well. A lot of it is leftovers from what they served yesterday. I think Bryan was eager to get rid of them.”

  The look of confusion still hadn’t shifted from CJ’s face. He was no doubt wondering why we couldn’t just eat at the hotel like we usually did. “This way we can spend all day outside, so you can take photos. Don’t think I didn’t see you looking wistfully at your camera yesterday before we went to the hotel. And you said yourself that if you’d been on your own, you would have spent the day taking photos in spite of it being Christmas. You’re itching to get back out there, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but…” CJ looked strangely hesitant to say what was on his mind.

  “But what?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Watch you. My new favorite hobby. “Enjoy the outdoors. Get some fresh air.” I lifted the bag again. “Eat this food.”

  CJ didn’t look convinced. “You’ll be bored.”

  I shrugged. “If I get bored, I can come back to the cabin. We’re heading into the forest. Not to the wilds of Borneo.”

  As it was, we walked so deep into the forest that the probability of me being able to find my way back without getting lost wasn’t high. I wasn’t about to admit that to CJ, though. Despite his protests to the contrary, I carried all the provisions so he could keep his hands free. It was cold, but it wasn’t snowing, and I was content just to walk at his side and see him come alive. He glowed in the outdoors, his head constantly turning, his sharp gaze evaluating each and every sound for a possible photo opportunity.

  “What makes a good photo?”

  CJ threw a glance my way. He’d foregone gloves, already having explained that they slowed him down too much when it came to taking photos. “A lot of things.”

  “Things that would be too complicated for me to understand.”

  He chuckled and threw me a mock glare. “No. I just didn’t know if you were genuinely interested or just being polite.”

  “Genuinely interested. To me, a photo is just a photo. That’s probably why mine are never very good. And they’re of people, who as a rule tend not to run away. Although, Lloyd has been known to be pretty flighty on a day when he’s had a skinful the night before and is feeling a bit worse for wear.”

  “A photo is about a lot of things. It’s not that different from writing really.” When I frowned, CJ elaborated. “It’s about the story that’s being told.”

  “The story?” I didn’t want to come across as stupid, but I truly didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

  “A lot of things make up the story, the background aesthetics for one. Like”—he waved a hand around the forest—“this is perfect. You could take a photo of the rarest animal, but if the background isn’t right, you’re only telling half the story. Light is important as well.” He pointed at the ground. “Snow is good. It reflects the light.” He smiled. “Is this making any sense at all?”

  I gave it some thought before answering. “Sort of.”

  Something caught my eye and I grabbed CJ’s arm to bring him to a stop. Leaning in, I kept my voice low. “What’s that?”

  He followed my gaze, his face lighting up as he caught sight of the bird about twenty meters away, its bright plumage just visible through the thick foliage. “Woodpecker.”

  “Worth photographing?”

  He nodded. “Stay here.”

  I didn’t plan on moving so much as an inch. There was no way I was going to risk ruining a possible photo opportunity. I took it to such an extreme that I barely breathed as CJ moved toward the woodpecker, his steps as stealthy as he could make them when the fresh snow underfoot tended to make an obnoxious crunching sound. He made it a few meters closer before lifting his camera to take a shot, the sound of the shutter making me flinch. Taking a few more steps, he fired off a flurry of shots. He got to within about a meter before the woodpecker realized it had company and took flight. I finally allowed myself to take a breath as CJ turned back with a grin on his face. I raised an eyebrow as he made his way back toward me. “Any good?”

  “A couple of decent ones, I think. I got a good one just before it flew off. Action shots are always more interesting than if the subject just sits there.”

  The rest of the day passed in a pleasant haze of CJ finding a good vantage point for an hour or so before we moved on. I ribbed him about lying down in the snow again, which he took with good humor. The highlight of the day had definitely been the pair of moose that had wandered by, CJ seeming happy with the photos he’d gotten before they’d gone on their way. We’d eaten lunch on a fallen log, where I’d taken the liberty of warming CJ’s hands by shoving them up my shirt, the gesture earning me the sweetest of kisses.

  I’d been right about there being plenty of food left. With CJ back on his front in the snow, I reached into the bag for a sandwich. A glance up to the sky through the thick foliage had me noticing how gloomy it was getting. “We’re not staying here in the dark, are we?”

  CJ levered himself up onto his elbows and tilted his head to one side, his look up to the sky fleeting. “Time flies. No. A few more minutes and then we’ll head back.”

  I scanned the area in an effort to get my bearings, but one tree in the forest looked much like another. I wasn’t even sure in which direction the hotel lay. “Erm… do you know the way back?”

  “I’ve been taking the photos. I thought you were in charge of navigation.”

  I blinked. “Oh, right. Of course.” I did another scan, trying to calculate which way we’d been walking all day. I thought we’d been heading kind of right, which would mean… I lifted my hand and pointed to the left. “It’s that way.” The confidence in my voice was impressive, considering it was a complete guess.

  CJ’s lips twitched. “Are you sure?”

  “Not even slightly.”

  He laughed. “If we head that way, we’ll be heading into the wilderness. While I’m usually a big fan of a night beneath the stars, I think it’s a bit too cold for that sort of experience tonight, even if I have got you to keep me warm. So”—he inclined his head in the opposite direction to the one I’d pointed—“I’m going to be going that way. The hotel is about a mile from here.”

  “Only a mile?” That didn’t sound right.

  “I’ve been making sure we never got too far away. I didn’t want us to get caught in a snowstorm.”

  I took a bite of the sandwich and chewed slowly. “Good thinking.” I swallowed. “So it won’t take long to get back?”

  CJ shook his head. “Nope. Not long at all.” He reached back to massage his neck. “I can’t wait to jump in a hot shower.”

  I took another bite of sandwich. “Hot is debatable.”

  “True. Tepid. Hotter than snow.”

  A rustle came from the undergrowth, and I froze with the sandwich halfway to my mouth. It had been too loud to be a bird. Another moose?

  CJ crawled forward a few inches, his voice barely audible but as urgent as I’d ever heard it. “Do. Not. Move. A. Muscle.”

  I lowered my own voice to a whisper. “What is it?”

  And then it appeared out of the undergrowth. It looked almost like a domestic tabby, facially anyway, but it was far bigger with longer legs. It had tufted ears, and where a tabby would have had stripes, it had dark patches that almost looked like spots. Its head was turned away, CJ snapping a couple of shots anyway. What was it? A bobcat? Without an identify-the-type-of-wildcat book to hand or access to Google, that was my best guess.

  It didn’t seem at all interested in either of us, which either meant it hadn’t noticed us yet, or it had but it didn’t see us as any sort of threat. Could it smell us? Did snow dampen scent? Or if not snow, the cold? Was that a thing? Were they vicious? Were we going to have to turn tail and run? If so, at least we’d established which way we needed to go.

  It continued on its way through the undergrowth, pausing occasionally to sniff at something it found interesting. I was back to not breathing, scared that if I made so much as the slightest sound, it would run away. That, or attack us, and hopefully, it was the former. CJ’s yearning to get the perfect shot was tangible, the air almost crackling with it. I could tell he hadn’t gotten it yet, the angle still not right.

  And then as if in slow motion the bobcat’s head turned our way. It froze, the movement lasting no longer than a couple of seconds and then it bolted, disappearing in a flash of fur and tail. I stared at the space where it had been moments before, the sandwich I’d been holding dropping to the snow.

  CJ was on me before I’d even registered him coming my way, dragging me into an absurd dance of what I took to be celebration. Off balance, I held onto him for dear life. “What was that?”

  He spun me around, the half a sandwich in my stomach threatening a reappearance at the sudden movement. “A bobcat.”

  At least I’d been right about that. Who needed Google? I forced CJ to a stop, his eyes shining and his grin wider than I’d ever seen it. “And I assume from your… excitement, that a bobcat is a good thing to photograph.”

  CJ stared open-mouthed at me. “Didn’t you see it? It was gorgeous. And it was so close.”

  “I saw it. I was more concerned about the possibility of it attacking us.”

  He shook his head. “They rarely attack people. You saw how fast it fled once it realized we were here. It was more scared of us than we were of it.”

  I laughed, grabbing his hand and sliding it inside my coat so he could feel my racing heartbeat. “Speak for yourself. Anyway”—I gestured to his camera, which he’d abandoned on a tree trunk—“I’m assuming you got some good photos? Or have we got another tail situation here?”

  Still smiling, CJ shrugged. “No idea.”

  I gave him a gentle push. “Shouldn’t you take a look?”

  He almost danced back over to his camera, the realization hitting me that at this precise moment, CJ didn’t give a damn about the quality of the photos he’d taken. That it wasn’t about the end product for him. It was about the thrill of the hunt, the hope that something interesting might come along if he waited long enough. And to think that his stupid ex had actually believed there was a chance of CJ giving this up. He’d obviously never watched him work, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve him.

  I walked over and stood behind CJ, resting my chin on his shoulder once he’d retrieved his camera so that I could see as he started skimming through the photos. Or maybe it was more of an excuse to be close to him.

  It didn’t take CJ long to reach the photos of the bobcat. He scrolled quickly through the first few where the bobcat was turned away and you could only see the back of its head. I was nervous for him, wanting there to be something good, something worthwhile. Even if it wasn’t the be all and end all for him, it would be the icing on the cake.

  The first photo of the bobcat as it had turned its head CJ’s way was blurry. I pulled a face at the same time as CJ announced that it was “rubbish.” The second photo was much the same. Guilt for making CJ study the photos rather than letting him bathe in the euphoria of the experience for a bit longer washed over me. Why did I have to be so relentlessly pragmatic? Too fixated on the end result? It was like my book all over again.

  I started to say something, something that would hopefully soothe CJ’s ego, but as he scrolled to the next photo, the words died in my mouth, excitement replacing the guilt. There was nothing blurry about that photo, and the bobcat was looking straight at the camera, his expression one of comical surprise that said he had no idea where two humans could magically have appeared from. CJ had caught it at the very moment before it had gotten spooked. I stayed quiet as CJ brought the camera closer to his face and scrutinized the photo. Eventually, the silence got too much for me. “That’s a good photo, right?”

  A slow smile appeared on CJ’s face. “That’s a great photo.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded. I let go of him and threw my hands in the air. “Woohoo!”

  CJ’s smile grew even wider. “And the next two are pretty good as well. I mean… not award-winning. I don’t think National Geographic are going to be hammering on my door any time soon, but I’ll definitely be able to sell them for a decent price.”

  “That’s fantastic.”

  He shrugged, the casual action doing nothing to hide his pleasure. “I guess I have you to thank for dragging me out here today.”

  I cocked my head to one side. “Erm… I don’t remember there being any dragging.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.” He put his camera down and advanced on me. I narrowed my eyes at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving you your reward.”

  I didn’t need to ask what he meant or what my reward was, CJ’s expression speaking volumes. I tipped my face up as he got close. “We should probably be getting back.”

  “In a minute.”

  CJ’s gloveless hands were cold as he cupped my face. When he covered my mouth with his own, the kiss was achingly sweet, all tenderness and care. Closing my eyes, I leaned into it. I didn’t think; I just felt. I took the moment and I treasured it.

  The feeling of having captured something beautiful and precious carried me all the way back to the cabins, CJ correct that we hadn’t gone that far. I had plans for him when we got back. Plans that would pick up from that kiss, and where we could do all the things that hadn’t been possible in the middle of a snowy forest. First, we’d shower, and then maybe I could give him a massage. I might not have massage oil, but I was sure there was something I could improvise with.

  We headed to CJ’s cabin, CJ stepping in first and pressing the light switch. I froze as the cabin was flooded with bright light. Not the dimmed light of the generator that I’d grown so used to over the last few days, but harsh light that could only mean one thing, unease taking up residence in my chest.

  CJ’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh! I guess the electricity’s back on. I wonder when that happened. That’s got to be a good sign, right?”

  He sounded so cheerful about it. Whereas I felt like someone had just turned an hourglass over, and I was watching the sand slowly but inexorably trickle to the bottom. If the electricity was back on, how long would it be until the road was cleared? Maybe it already was, and we just didn’t know it because we hadn’t been around all day. Didn’t CJ realize that? Or was he just not as emotionally invested as I was? Did he not care that our time together was coming to an end?

  “Nathan?” I jerked my head up to find CJ staring at me, the expression on his face saying it wasn’t the first time he’d called my name. “Are you alright?”

  I forced a smile and nodded, even though it felt like the world was tumbling down around my ears. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Chapter Twelve

  December 27th

  Bryan’s appearance in the breakfast room felt like the last few grains of sand leaving the hourglass. I kept my gaze fixed on my mug of coffee. Maybe if I didn’t look his way, he’d keep on walking. There were a hundred different reasons he could be in the breakfast room. Perhaps there was a problem with someone’s breakfast. Perhaps he was just passing through on his way to somewhere else. Perhaps he hadn’t had time for breakfast, and he wanted to grab something.

  “Bryan’s here.”

  CJ’s statement of the obvious did nothing to settle the churning disquiet in my stomach. I wrapped my hands around the mug and stared at the liquid inside it, not managing to summon up anything more than a nod in response. The noise of conversation gradually died down until the silence of expectation was a crushing pressure on my chest.

  When Bryan finally spoke, it was all I could do not to jump. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but as you all know, we managed to get the power back on yesterday.” Someone whooped from the table in the corner. I tilted the mug slightly, moving the coffee to the very point where it threatened to spill over the rim before tilting it back the other way. “And on the back of that good news, I just received a call a few minutes ago to say that as of this morning”—he left a dramatic pause—“the road has been cleared.” My hand jerked, coffee sloshing over the rim of the mug to form a puddle on the table. “So… you are free to leave whenever you wish. Or to stay. We’d be very glad to have the pleasure of your company for a little longer so don’t feel you need to rush off.”

  Bryan was still talking, something about being incredibly grateful for everyone’s patience during a difficult time, but I could barely hear him over the excited chatter that had broken out. Some people got up, abandoning half-full plates in their eagerness to leave the breakfast room. I grabbed a handful of napkins and began to mop up the spilt coffee.

 

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