Snow Job by Beth Bolden

Author:Beth Bolden [Bolden, Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beth Bolden Books
Published: 2020-01-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Micah woke the next morning to the insistent beeping of his phone. It took him an embarrassingly long time for him to realize what the sound even was. He hadn’t heard it once for the last two days, but that didn’t really excuse how long it took him to figure it out. Maybe it was because he’d woken up like he’d dreamed so many times—in the arms of someone he cared about a whole lot, and he never wanted to leave.

And that’s exactly what the sound represented: their ability to leave.

“What’s that noise?” Jake groaned as he rolled over, taking Micah’s body with him, like he belonged there.

Micah stared up at the vaulted ceiling, at the light that filtered through the windows. He couldn’t pretend now that he didn’t know what it was and what it ultimately meant. “It’s my phone,” he said. “It’s ringing.”

“Oh,” Jake said, and his eyes fluttered closed, like he couldn’t give a shit that someone was calling them. Micah’s heart leapt, and then immediately crashed back to earth when his eyes flew open again. “Oh. Your phone’s ringing! The tower must be back online. We can actually call out. We can . . .” He hesitated, and Micah wondered if it was because he didn’t really want to be rescued anymore, or if it was because he thought Micah felt that way. “We can leave.”

Just one more day, Micah thought as he dutifully got out of bed, pulling on a shirt and pants, I just wanted one more damn day. Was that too much to ask for? Even the frigid air felt a little less painfully cold this morning. All signs pointed to the fact that whatever this snowy interlude had been, it was nearing its end. And even though he and Jake had spent the last two days clearing the air from all the shit in their past, the one thing they’d never discussed was the future.

In the moment, he hadn’t brought it up because it had felt too soon. He’d felt cocooned in the safety of this ramshackle cabin, protected by feet and feet of snow, their isolation granting them an opportunity they never would have gotten otherwise. But now Micah regretted that he hadn’t brought it up. You still can, his unhelpful mind reminded him.

But he didn’t. Some habits died hard, apparently. And the one where he couldn’t ask for what he wanted, explicitly, still appeared to be a work in progress.

“I’ve got like a hundred missed calls,” Micah said, because he didn’t know what else to say. Maybe the best thing was to pretend like nothing was wrong, like he wasn’t crushed by disappointment. He should be ecstatic. He’d gotten everything he thought he’d ever wanted—Jake in his bed for a few nights, and he’d been just as funny and kind and sweet as he’d always imagined he would be. But like so many desperately wished-for things, it turned out that wasn’t what Micah had wanted at all.

He didn’t want Jake for just a handful of days and nights; he wanted him for every single one going forward.

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