Snow and the Seven Men

The couple exchanged a long look and I was instantly wary. What was that about?

“Well hurry up,” Hunter muttered. “We’ve been looking for you for hours. You should have called.”

“Like she said,” I snapped. “The phones were down.”

“The phones are fine,” Hunter retorted and we glared at one another. I didn’t want to be left alone in the entrance with these two so I hurried back to find Sasha who was dressing into the only clothes she’d had with her—the ones she’d worn into the cabin. I could see the resignation on her face as she dressed, her lower lip quivering slightly.

“Sasha,” Dan was saying. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

She raised her head and stared at him and then around the room at all of us. I could see she was seriously considering his words and my heart leapt with hope. We could work something out if she decided to stay. We could—

“You know there’s nothing I’d like more,” she told us in a hushed voice. Her eyes darted nervously toward the doorway as if she expected her team to be listening. Was she embarrassed? Did she regret what she’d done with us?

She looked conflicted more than anything and I willed her to look at me but she seemed to be avoiding my eyes more than anyone else’s.

We knew this was coming. We all knew. We couldn’t make a big production out of it now.

But that was so much easier said than done. We loved her. She belonged with us. How could we let her go?

“Hello?” Hunter yelled. “Can we get going?”

“Is he always that obnoxious?” I snapped and Sasha smiled wryly.

“Always,” she conceded. Slowly, she lifted her head and walked around the room, pausing to hug us one by one.

“I’ll miss you,” she murmured. “I’ll send you an email.”

The words were empty, stupid. There was nothing an email could say that would recapture what we had.

“I’ll come and visit,” she promised when she got to me. “You’ll have to send me your itinerary and—”

“Please don’t,” I mumbled, feeling a lump forming in my throat. “I know you’re trying to make this easier but…just please.”

She nodded and sighed, drawing me toward her. Her lips brushed against the base of my ear and I exhaled in a tremor.

“I love you,” she whispered and I knew she meant it. But what good did that do really?

With a sickening feeling in my gut, I watched as Sasha picked up her knapsack and ambled toward the doorway, pausing to cast us one last look.

“Thank you for everything,” she breathed before disappearing into the hallway. As if her departure had sucked the air completely out of the room, we all sank back, falling to our respective beds in shock.

The front door closed with a bang and I heard the sound that had initially caught my attention: the snowmobile starting.

And just as quickly as she’d come into our lives, Sasha had gone, taking a piece of us with her just as Collette had before.

The dream had died and as I looked at my friends, I could tell they were thinking the same thing as me.

There would not be any recovering from this.

At least I knew there wouldn’t be for me.

18

Sasha

Everything about the research unit made my skin crawl. There didn’t seem to be a single place I could feast my eyes which didn’t make my stomach flip with contempt. Hunter, Queenie, the bed, the mere air I was breathing. I’d been back an hour and I wanted to run screaming from the place and back into the arms of my saviors but somehow, I managed to keep my composure.

I deserved a damned medal for it, in my opinion.

“You better call your mother,” Queenie barked at me. “She was going to call the police even though I told her you were probably—”

“Fine,” I replied in a clipped tone. I didn’t want to hear her take on how I’d run off to give her a hard time. “Thanks.”

I grabbed my laptop and set up a Skype call to my mom who answered on the first ring. Her eyes were red rimmed and she burst into tears the second she saw me.

“Oh thank Jesus!” she screamed. “ALEX! Alex, it’s Sasha!”

Instantly, my bestie appeared at her side and I could see that she looked as distraught as my mom.

Oh Jesus. It was worse than I thought.

“I’m fine,” I assured them. “I’m sorry you were so worried—”

“WORRIED?” Mom howled. I winced at the feedback and shook my head. I had a headache and her screeching wasn’t making things any better.

“Worried is an understatement,” Alex offered, resting a hand on my mother’s shoulder. Even through the grainy feed, I could see Mom was shaking with relief.

“Look, I’m alive, see?” I tried to joke. “It was a freak turn of weather. I got stranded and—”