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“I feel like it might be easier if I agree to never ski, hike, or drive in rural areas ever again,” I declare, laughing.
“You live in Colorado now, baby. No way will you be able to avoid all three—it’s basically a requirement for residency.”
“You’re telling me there’s some sort of snow cave exam I need to pass before I’m allowed to stay?” I tease, deciding not to call him out on the casual endearment he’d let slip. “Who enforces this rule?”
Lincoln’s eyes dance with amusement, and I feel my stomach squirm at how hot he looks with a genuine smile on his face.Not hot! He’s family pack!I reprimand myself mentally.
“The police do surprise inspections.” He plays along. “You’ve been lucky so far to avoid one.”
“So let me get this straight. Not only is your idea of a post-SAT reward a workout, but it’s simultaneously a study session foranotherexam. I think you’re in need of some lessons of your own, big guy.” I stick out my tongue and place both hands on my hips. I’m not sure where this playful mood came from, but I’m going with it as long as it delays me having to work out.
Lincoln skirts his gaze down to my mouth before dragging it back to my eyes. He bends forward and down, erasing the distance between us as he leans in to my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver along my exposed neck. “I said I had adistraction, Espy. Trust me, there’ll be no doubt when you’ve earned a reward.”
My mouth drops open in shock at his low tone and suggestive words. This causes my lips to brush against the skin of his cheek, dragging gently against the rough stubble of his barely-there beard.
He pulls away before I can do more than gape, turning and walking further into the snow-covered field. With a racing heart and blanked-out mind, I follow.
* * *
Turns out,running might have been an easier workout.
Lincoln threatened me with having to shovel the entire field, but there’s so much snow-moving involved in making a snow cave that I’m not sure I truly avoided that fate. We’ve been going at it for about an hour and a half now, and though it can’t be more than thirty-five degrees out, my inner layers are soaked in sweat. Both of our jackets lie abandoned next to us, and I swear I can see a faint but constant shimmer of condensation from where the cold air hits our warm bodies. Both of our scents are out in force, but Lincoln in particular is practically a walking cloud of salted honey and leathery goodness.
“Be careful with this part,” he warns, looming above me where I’m currently crouched on the ground trying to shape out the main body on my second snow cave. He started with showing me how to do it and then had me give it a try. My first attempt was nice, but uninhabitable. His words. I called it a hot mess—before amending it to acoldmess.
Haha, get it?
I text a picture to Micah, Mason, and Cabe on our group thread.
I haven’t had many chances to check in with them this afternoon, but it looks like the final afternoon session of the swim meet is just wrapping up. Both Mason and Leo have done well, or so I’ve been told. I’m sure I’ll get the play-by-play when they get back, though given it’s about a seven-hour drive, that’ll take some time.
I try to focus on the task at hand. I have absolutely zero doubt Lincoln will make me do this all over again if this second cave isn’t up to his standards. For as much shit as I gave him before starting, it’s honestly turned out to be a lot more fun than I anticipated. Not only am I learning a cool survival skill, but I’m also learning a lot about my brother’s packmate. Though I’ve spent a fair amount of time with Lincoln the past two months, something about working next to each other the way we are brings out his chatty side. That might be an exaggeration. It brings out his less monosyllabic side.
He’s shared a bit about his mom before, and I know she gave him some tips on how to interact with me when I first moved in with Leo. Like many packs, his family is dominated by boys. He has two younger brothers, one alpha and one beta, and both go to schools out of state. I learn he joined the special military track after his freshman year and hasn’t looked back since. Apparently, it pays for a good seventy-five percent of his educational costs. Maybe I should be considering something similar in case I’m unable to gain access to the college fund that was started when I was born. And, hey, if there really is some sort of snow cave-making exam, I’ll already have a leg up!
“Are you sure I can’t use a shovel this time?” I ask yet again. “I’m open to compromising and never going anywhere without a shovel ever again if you’ll let me use that red one for five minutes.”
They’re sitting right there. He actually went and grabbed two shovels from the athletic shed earlier so he could show me both techniques before promptly declaring them off-limits.
“You’re almost done,” he retorts, unbudging.
I can’t see his face since I’m currently lying on my belly with my front half stuck inside a pile of snow, but I’d bet there was an eyeroll to accompany that statement.
He’s not wrong. The hardest part is over: gathering all the snow to make the pile from, which I then have to excavate to make the “cave” part. He went over different terrains and different options with me when we started. When I asked why we couldn’t have done this up in the foothills where there are numerous tree wells I could just dig down into to make a shelter, he gave me a mini-lecture on the importance of learning skills under the most challenging conditions first. He caught me muttering “you’re a challenging condition” under my breath, and for that I got tossed in a snowbank.
Fair enough.
I’m scooping out snow and shaping the roof and walls with my hands, shuffling further in as I go like some sort of chubby, uncoordinated snake. It’s a little bit unnerving having Lincoln just standing there on the outside, and I wonder for a minute if he’s taking the opportunity to stare at my wriggling butt the way I did to him earlier when he was showing me how to make the cave. I blush at the thought and work even faster until all but my boots have made it in. When I’m satisfied with the depth, I flip onto my back and start widening the roof a bit more so I won’t feel claustrophobic. And so Lincoln can fit in to check my work. I crunch up every once in a while to grab a mouthful of snow, holding it in my mouth until it turns to water and I can drink it down. Hydration!
Fifteen more minutes and I decide to call it.
“Done!” I announce, once again wriggling gracelessly out of the entrance and blinking as the sun hits my face. Once my eyes have adjusted, I see Lincoln is holding out his hand to help me up, and I eagerly accept.
“Let’s see how you did,” he states, squatting down to peek inside and using his hand to test out the strength of the walls. He takes a few minutes to poke and prod then eventually gives me a nod. “Looks halfway decent. Not bad, short stack. Want to test it out?” he offers.
“I definitely didn’t make it big enough for you,” I protest when I see him starting to crawl in.
“Don’t worry—it’s pretty close. I’m just expanding it a bit,” he calls back.
