His lips were pale.
When he saw Lena, he tried to smile.
“You look angry.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Means I’m alive.”
She knelt beside him.
“You will remain alive because I have not finished yelling.”
He laughed weakly.
The branch was too heavy to lift directly.
Lena examined the angle.
Years in kitchens and bakeries did not make her an engineer.
But moving heavy ovens had taught her leverage.
“Don’t lift it.”
The ranch hand looked at her.
“We have to.”
“Not straight.”
She pointed.
“Use the rock as a pivot.”
“Run the rope beneath.”
“Team pulls sideways.”
“We lift only enough to free his leg.”
They tried.
The first rope slipped.
Reid groaned.
Lena stopped everything.
Reset.
Second attempt.
The branch rose three inches.
Enough.
They pulled Reid free.
By the time they reached the ranch, darkness had swallowed everything beyond lantern range.
The doctor arrived the next morning.
No broken leg.
Severe bruising.
Frostbite in two toes.
He would recover.
Reid spent three days in bed complaining.
Lena told him complaint was a sign of health.
On the fourth day he tried to stand.
She physically blocked the doorway.
“You are not leaving.”
“This is my house.”
“Apparently.”
“You cannot imprison me.”
“Watch.”
Emma sat on the bed eating bread.
“Lena wins.”
Reid stared at his daughter.
“Again, whose side?”
“Lena’s.”
“Unbelievable.”
That evening, after Emma slept, Reid reached for Lena’s hand.
“You came after me.”
“Yes.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
She pulled her hand away.
“Choose your next words carefully.”
He smiled.
“I mean the snow was dangerous.”
“You went alone.”
“I know.”
“You could’ve died.”
“I know.”
Her anger cracked.
Tears came.
She hit his shoulder lightly.
“Idiot.”
He caught her hand.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t get to die.”
“I’ll write it down.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She looked at him.
Reid’s expression changed.
“I love you.”
The room went silent.
Lena stopped breathing.
He did not look frightened after saying it.
Only certain.
She whispered:
“You’re injured.”
“My leg.”
“Not my judgment.”
“You have fever.”
“No.”
“You nearly froze.”
“Still knew your name.”
She started crying harder.
Reid smiled.
“There’s the angry face.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“That confidence is unattractive.”
“I love you.”
“Stop saying it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to think.”
He waited.
Lena sat beside the bed.
For most of her life, love had been offered with conditions hidden behind it.
Be useful.
Be grateful.
Stay invisible.
Become smaller.
Accept whatever is given.
Reid had never once asked her to become less.
Maybe love was not supposed to feel like being rescued.