Chapter 4

Mr Hart doesn't say anything at first. He just watches me with those unreadable sapphire eyes, the same kind of calm that only makes my frustration boil hotter.

 I want to scream. I want to throw the damn phone into the trees and collapse into the snow. But I don't. I can't.

 I square my shoulders instead, pretending the cold doesn't sting, pretending the fear hasn't settled deep in my gut.

 "Of course there isn't any signal way up here," he chuckles like he's stating the obvious, and maybe to him it is. But I grew up in a city where cell towers loomed over every building and you were never more than a text away from help.

 "So we just walk down the mountain," he adds with maddening conviction, already tossing the ruined equipment behind him like it's dead weight. "We didn't make it too far before we crashed."

 I blink at him, stunned by the ease with which he says it. Walk? Just walk? Through snow-covered wilderness with a storm looming and no cell service and—oh yeah—a leg that might be broken?

 Still, there's something in his tone. Calm. Certain. And it chips away at the panic clinging to my ribs.

 I stare at him. "Just like that? What, you've memorized the whole mountain or something?"

 He doesn't answer right away—just glances off toward the trees, eyes narrowed like he's mapping the terrain in his head. That alone makes something coil in my gut.

 "You know where we are," I say slowly, not sure if it's a question or an accusation.

 His lips twitch faintly, not quite a smile. "I know enough."

 Not exactly comforting.

 "And what if we go the wrong way?" I press, refusing to back down. "What if this storm hits before we make it anywhere?"

 He finally turns to me fully, his expression unreadable but serious. "Then we find shelter. And we wait it out."

 Simple as that.

 I almost laugh—almost. But his steady gaze holds me in place, and for the first time since the crash, I wonder if maybe, just maybe, I'm not completely doomed out here.

 With another look around at the vast wilderness before me—endless white snow, jagged peaks, trees packed like soldiers guarding secrets—my heart sinks even lower. The sheer isolation crashes over me like a wave.

 "You're kidding me, right?" I ask, hoping—praying—for some hint of sarcasm in his tone.

 "Not at all," he replies smoothly, brushing snow off his jacket. "Should be an easy hike… provided you've ever hiked before."

 I stare at him, aghast. "Hiked? I do Pilates. I wear heels. The closest I've come to hiking is the outdoor mall on Rodeo Drive."

 One brow lifts slightly. "Then this'll be a learning experience."

 My jaw drops. "That's your plan? March me off into the great white abyss like it's a walk in the park?"

 He shrugs, frustratingly unbothered. "Better than waiting for a rescue that's not coming."

 My pulse pounds in my ears, but I clamp down the panic with a shallow breath. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

 I look again at the empty sky, the ghost of clouds building in the distance.

 "Wait," I say, holding up a gloved hand. "Aren't we supposed to stay put if we get stranded in the snow?" My brain spins, scrambling for the right answer. Think, Heather. I remember my favorite maid—sweet Elena—telling me if I ever got stuck somewhere, to stay put. She said rescuers always look near the last known location. "Now you're saying we hike down the mountain?"

 He doesn't even flinch.

 "You're ridiculous!" I snap, but the fear underneath my words betrays me.

 "Maybe if you have no sense of where you are or how to get back, I guess," he says nonchalantly, with a shrug of his broad shoulders—like we're discussing dinner plans, not survival.

 He glances at the snowy ridgeline. "I've hiked further up than this." 

 I blink at him, unsure whether to be relieved or more alarmed. "You've what?"

 "Plenty of times. I know where we are." The confidence in his voice is maddening. Unshakeable. And yet… something inside me flickers. Not quite trust. But maybe the shadow of it.

 "Fantastic," I mutter under my breath. "Stranded in the middle of nowhere with a mountain man who thinks snow is fun."

 Ugh, his earlier words slam back into my mind like a slap– "if you can't walk out of here, we will be caught in the storm." 

 I swallow hard, suddenly unsure of everything. The cold, the silence, the endless snow pressing in from all sides– it's too much.

 He seems to notice my doubts, "we could stay here and wait for someone if that would make you feel better?"

 I stare up at his tall frame, craning my neck to meet his eyes. The deep pools of sapphire lock onto mine, and for a second, everything else fades.

 "If we stay here…" My voice is quiet, but steady. "What shelter do we have? You said a storm was coming. How severe are the storms?" I hesitate, then add, "Won't we freeze?"

 He doesn't answer right away, just shifts his weight and glances at the sky like it might chime in.

 "Well," he says finally, voice low and calm, "staying means we sit in a busted metal tube with no insulation, limited supplies, and no firewood, waiting for a rescue that probably isn't coming before the storm hits."

 He meets my gaze again, one brow ticking up. "Going means we might get soaked, cold, and tired—but we'll be headed away from danger instead of waiting for it to bury us."

 A pause. Then, with that annoyingly calm tone, "So yeah. I'd vote hike."

 "And how far down the mountain do we have to go?" Reluctance and a shadow of despair creep into my voice as I speak. Would we even make it? With my leg sending painful tremors even though I barely move it, leaves me feeling more than helpless.

 "Well, usually when I hike the mountain, it only takes a day or so to get back down," he says quietly, eyes piercing my facade like a hunter zeroing in on prey—burrowing through the wall I've spent so long building. "But with your injury, I'm not sure."