Chapter 8

“I might as well sleep down here.” He fished out the teabag from the mug and took a sip. “Ouch, hot,” he hissed as the scalding liquid burned his tongue.

After he finished his tea, he curled up under the blankets in front of the wood stove. He lay on his side, facing the fire and the big windows overlooking nothing but the forest. All signs of civilization were at the back of the cabin, so staring out on the snowy trees gave him the illusion that he was all alone in the middle of nowhere. Just him and the wilderness. Everything was perfect, except…

He missed Mick and his quirky smile so much, his heart ached. Especially in cold times like these. Mick was hot-blooded, despite being so slender, and Elliot always used to call Mick his own furnace. There was nothing better on a cold winter night than having Mick cuddled up against his back. More than once, he’d slept without a blanket to avoid waking up gross and sweaty.