Page 50 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

"Just checking you’re okay for snow. Making sure you have wood." I called back. "You all set? Got enough supplies?"

"I'm fine, Levi. Really."

But she didn't invite me in, didn't suggest I come warm up by her fire or share a cup of coffee. She just stood there in the doorway, polite but distant, like I was a neighbor she barely knew instead of the man who'd been falling for her one day at a time for the past three months.

"Okay," I said, though nothing about this felt okay. "You've got my number if you need anything."

"I know. Thank you."

She went back inside and closed the door, and I sat there for another minute, watching the wind bend the trees around her cottage, feeling like I'd just been dismissed.

By the time I pulled into my own driveway, snow had already started to fall. I stood on my porch for a long moment, looking toward Cassie's cottage through the woods, fighting the urge to trek over there and camp out on her doorstep.

Inside, I built up my fire and settled into my chair by the window with a cup of coffee and my phone. The weather service app showed the storm would leave us with four feet of snow over the weekend.

I tried to read, tried to watch TV, tried to focus on anything other than the woman two hundred yards away who seemed to be slipping through my fingers like snow.

Around midnight, I gave up on sleep and moved to the couch, where I could see her cottage lights through the trees. They were still on, which either meant she couldn't sleep either or she was working late, grading papers, planning lessons, or doing any of the dozen things that kept teachers busy.

Or she was thinking about leaving.

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut. What if she were up there packing right now? What if she'd already made up her mind and was just waiting for the storm to pass before she loaded up that blue Ford Ranger and drove out of my life forever?

I reached for my phone a dozen times, started to type messages I didn't send. Are you okay? Can we talk? Please don't leave without saying goodbye.

Outside, it was a whiteout. This was going to be the storm people talked about for years.

And somewhere out there in the dark and growing cold, Cassie was facing the night before her first Montana blizzard alone, maybe making decisions that would change everything between us.

I settled deeper into the couch, pulling a blanket around my shoulders, and kept watch through the long night. Her lights stayed on until almost three, then finally went dark.

Chapter 13

Shattered Shelter

Cassie

On Friday morning, the snow was several inches deep, with snow drifts even deeper. It was a major snowstorm, at least by my standards. And it was going to drop a whole lot more snow over the weekend. The snow had fallen steadily all last night and all this morning. The plows had kept up so far, but by lunchtime, it was coming down like nature had opened a celestial feather pillow and given it a good shake. I stood at my classroom window, watching the flakes dance and swirl in patterns that would've been beautiful if they weren't so relentless.

“Miss Grant, are we still having biology lab today?” Emma Martin asked from her desk, where she was doodling what looked like a snowman wearing goggles.

“We'll see, sweetie,” I said, though I was already mentally shifting to Plan B. The weather forecast had been ominous enough this morning, but this looked like it was escalating faster than I had predicted. It wasn’t the first snow of the season, but it was the worst storm so far.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the intercom crackled to life with Kathy's voice, calm but serious. “Teachers, please prepare for early dismissal. Buses will begin loading in fifteen minutes. We are moving to early dismissal due to weather conditions.”

A cheer went up from my third-period students, a spontaneous celebration that only comes with unexpected freedom. I couldn't blame them—there was something magical about snow days, even when you could see them coming.

“Alright, everyone,” I said, clapping my hands together. “You heard Mrs. Marshall. Let's pack up quickly, and don't forget your winter gear.”

The next fifteen minutes were a controlled chaos of zipping backpacks and last-minute reminders about reading assignments. I helped Tyler find his missing glove (under his desk, naturally) and reminded Sarah to give her mom the permission slip for next week's field trip—assuming we'd actually have school next week.

“Miss Grant?” Lily Chen appeared at my elbow, her coat already buttoned up to her chin. “Will you be okay driving home in this?”

My heart did a little flutter at the concern in her voice. These kids had wormed their way into my heart faster than I'd expected, and their sweet thoughtfulness never failed to catch me off guard.

“I'll be just fine,” I assured her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I don't live very far from school, and I've got good tires on my car.”

She nodded solemnly, like she was filing away this important information. “My dad says you should always keep blankets and snacks in your car during winter. Just in case.”