I don't sleep the rest of the night. My body is in tune with every movement Damien makes and acutely aware he'll be gone from me in mere hours. And I'll be left to hitch a ride down the mountain instead of enjoying my time, because I injured myself.

I let myself get distracted, almost killed us both, and injured myself. How could I have been so stupid?

When the morning comes, I race out of bed and have my gear back on before the alarm goes off.

A little twinge of guilt rolls through me when his arm reaches out for the empty spot in the bed and then his eyes shoot open, finding mine almost instantly.

"Good morning," I say, dreading everything he can see on my face in the bright light of day.

His eyes knit together and he plays at his lower lip, but he doesn't say anything.

"I'm just finishing making sure everything's cleaned up and the fire is out. Then we'll be able to get going. Storm broke in the night and according to Bee back at Cliffside Lodge, your guest is waiting at the cabin already. We couldn't reach him in time to delay him further, but he is safe and well. There's plenty of food up there and it's winterized so you should be nice and warm once we arrive."

"Thanks," he says, confusion or maybe hurt flashing across his face. But it's best this way. Easier to just get this all done with and go get my shoulder checked out. He'll have his dad and I'll have my friends and all will be as it was.

I finish packing everything up and place the first aid kit back into my bag, making a note of what we used from the cabin so it can be replenished whenever someone comes up here next.

When I return to the main room, Damien's already folded up the couch and placed the blankets and sheets in a neatly folded pile on the edge of the couch.

"Thanks," I say, gesturing to the room. "I appreciate it."

"Least I could do after you kept me alive," he says with a tentative smile.

"Yeah. Almost messed that up didn't I?" I turn before I have time to really see the confusion settle on his features. "Let's go. We've got at least an hour in this fresh snow. And you're going to need those." I point to the snowshoes and he lets out a groan.

"Do I really?"

"Unless you want to wade through waist high snow, you probably do, yes."

"W-waist high?"

I turn to face him. "Well, it's waist height on me, so maybe a little less." My eyes really want to drift downward, but I steady my gaze straight in front of me.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, but he quickly wraps it in a scarf. "When we get there, um..."

"I'll be heading back down by snowmobile once everyone's settled. It's all arranged. They'll bring up anything you both might need before I go."

"You don't want to—?"

"Let's get started then, shall we?" I cut him off, pulling open the back door and placing the snowshoes down on the deck, which is now about level with the snow. There's no way I'm getting the fob back in the safe, so I'll have to take it back with me.

While he's struggling to strap the shoes on, I make sure everything is closed and locked tight and deposit the fob into my bag, replacing my mittens and strapping my own shoes on.

And once he stands with an, "I'm ready," there's nothing to do but start walking. The sooner I start, the sooner we'll be done.

* * *

We don't talk on the way up to the cabin, focusing on pushing as fast as we can to get to the meeting Damien was so desperate to make it to yesterday. I think of everything I can that isn't him, but my thoughts return to him anyway.

He's quiet. And I have to fight my urge to turn around and make sure he's okay, resorting instead to listening for the crunch of his snowshoes against the crisp snow.

Finally, just under an hour later, I can see the smoke rising out of the chimney from the cabin.

"We're almost there," I point up at the smoke. "You'll see your father in no time."

The crunch of his snowshoes stops.

I stop too.

Please start again. Walk. Please.

Nothing.

Deep breath. "Are you alright?"

Silence.

Fuck, I have to turn around.

"Damien?" I turn slowly, hoping he'll speak before I have to meet his eyes. At least I have the protection of all my outerwear so he can't see my blush or awkward faces. "How are you doing?"

"I don't know," he says, looking between my face and what I assume to be the rising smoke and back again. "I want to see him. I want to have a holiday. I want Christmas." He takes a big breath and I wish the snow would swallow me whole right now, my shoulder aching from the day's exertion.

"What I don't understand is why you don't want to look at me this morning. Did I do something in my sleep?"

"You didn't do anything. I'm just hurting and I want to see this through to the end—"

"And be done with it, is that it? Be done with me? Because you could have just said that, Amelia. I'm a big boy."

Isn't that an image? No! Focus. "It's not that. I just— Look, I don't know, okay? I don't know. And neither do you. And I've done that before. It's not enough for me. I need more than I don't know. I need yes, please. I need certainly. I need definitely for sure. I don't want to make this worse than it already is by dragging it out."

"Don't you think that certainty takes time? Don't you think it can grow? Don't you think it can be built?"

"When?" I almost shout. "You as good as told me you have no time for yourself. When are you going to make it up here to the mountain to see me? When am I, who avoids the city with every fibre of her being, going to make it in to see you? And even if I did, when will you have any time to see me? How does this end well, Damien? It doesn't. Okay? I played it through every single way and none of them work. I just need to get you to safety now. I'm not messing that up again."

"And then you'll go on your way and we'll never speak to each other again?"

"We can speak."

"But you don't want to talk about anything that happened back there? When we were stuck in the cabin?"

"I don't... I don't know, Damien. Not if you aren't sure it can go somewhere."

"How can I be sure until you let me try?"

"I don't know, okay? That's why I said just leave it be. Just cut your losses and move on. There are a thousand other Amelias out there probably begging for guys with your deep pockets. Just forget me."

"There is only one Amelia, Miss Conti. Don't you ever forget that."

A laugh slips out of me, because, of course, there are a lot of Amelias. But the laugh pulls at my heart, amplifying the pain that's been sitting there since I saw this man's face.

He carries on, undeterred. "You are unique. You make me see things so differently than I ever have. You've helped me see—"

I hold my hand up and he dutifully stops.

"I'm so sorry," I say, a tear slipping out of my eye. "I just can't. I can't be put through this again and I know that isn't fair and it doesn't make sense I just can't do it. I need to let this be."

I wish so desperately that I could see where this goes. That I hadn't been injured last night and could have let him do what he wanted to me. That we had any chance of anything more. That I hadn't been hurt so thoroughly I'm not capable of risking enough for him.

He just stands and watches me, unmoving, while I wrestle with myself.

"Would you be willing to stay with us for Christmas?" he asks. "Just as a friend," he adds on very quickly before I can answer.

"I think I better get back." It physically hurts to say. And to watch this formerly challenging confident man shrink in on himself just to ask me a question.

"Your shoulder?"

I shake my head. "My heart, maybe."

His eyes are sad as he tries to smile. "Well, at least let me introduce you to the special guest whose day you saved. He'll want to thank you for keeping me alive, I'm sure. You'll love him."

"I'm sure I will," I try to smile, but I'm sure it doesn't reach my eyes. "I just don't want you to think it changes anything."

"It might," he says. "You'll probably want to be his best friend."

"If I say I'll meet him, will you let me finish this excursion and walk you to the cabin?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll meet him."

"Good."

Not good. I can already tell it's not good.