Chilled by Death (8 page)

And if there was a pang of upset over the concept of Royce having paired up with someone else, then she’d stomp on it. They weren’t an item. Never had been when the relationship could be measured in a matter of hours and days, not weeks.

Besides, she’d chosen the warmest place in the house. If that didn’t seem to matter to the others, well, it did to her. She’d been out of the loop with winter playtime and she was feeling the cold big time. If the fire wasn’t lit and coffee not bubbling, she so wasn’t getting out of bed.

Of course, several in the group were likely to be cuddling up with someone special. That would keep anyone warm. She stopped on the image of Royce and Yvonne. He could do what he wanted.

Hopefully the others had stayed up late drinking. That would mean no early risers.

She smiled and curled up again. She could actually see her breath. And she’d come why?

She closed her eyes again, breathing the cold air deep, the smoke of a fire and the smell of coffee combined with the rustling movement from down below wafted up. Sliding forward, she looked through the railings to see who was awake.

And damn if her heart didn’t jump for joy. Royce. His open sleeping bag was still lying in front of the fire where he’d obviously slept. Dressed in just long johns, he was poking at the fire, willing it to burst into flame. A pot of coffee sat on the stove. It wouldn’t be ready for a while yet, but at least the process had been started. There was a coffeemaker somewhere, but coffee made this way had a special flavor.

She leaned over further, wanting to confirm that he had slept alone.

He had.

Instantly she felt terrible. There was plenty of room up here. She would have shared. Damn it. Then again, as she studied his bedroll down by the fire, why should she? Likely his had been much warmer than hers, and it was pretty damn smart of him too. Although, as she’d gone to bed early, that place would hardly have done her any good.

“You could come down and warm up,” Royce called up softly, not turning around.

She waited, wondering if he was talking to her. When he twisted slightly to stare up at her, she wanted to pull back like a little kid. Instead, she stared down at him casually. “Is it warm enough to venture down?”

He grinned. “If it isn’t, you sure aren’t going to want to go outdoors.”

“Not sure I am anyways.” She yawned. “Let me know when the coffee is done.”

“Ha. You’re not the boss here, sis.” George called up from the closest bedroom. “It’s first come first serve on that pot.”

“And I’m here on the spot,” Royce called. “Good luck getting any.”

There was a mad scramble from all the rooms as the men left their beds and raced to the pot. In various states of heavy winter underwear, the gang huddled around the heater stove and watched the coffee boil.

“You’re all nuts,” she called down, sinking lower into the sleeping bag.

“Ha. Looks who’s out here in the middle of nowhere with us,” George called up.

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered.

“I heard that.”

She ignored him. But tucked up inside her warm bag, she smiled. Life was good. She lay back peacefully, enjoying the novelty of her surroundings. Below her, the conversation between the groups floated up. Everyone was speaking about the day ahead. She was thinking that doing exactly what she was doing was the perfect activity. She yawned. How had she become so worn out? Maybe it was the constant overtime and heavy workouts. She’d filled her time so she didn’t have to think. And fill them she had. And now that she had nothing to do, no reason to get up, it was hard to do anything but doze off again.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

The voice woke her from her daydreams. She rolled over to find George standing over her with a mug of coffee in his hand. “Sorry, I guess I fell asleep again.”

“You need it,” he said, his voice serious. “You’re exhausted.” He squatted down beside her and lowered the cup to the floor beside her head. “I don’t think you even see how bad you’ve gotten. You’re completely worn out.” He plunked his butt on the floor. “You are working yourself to the bone.”

“I’m not that bad,” she protested, rising up on one elbow.

Stevie called up from below. “Yes, you are. You’re the first one into work and the last one to leave.”

Mark added, “And you usually come in on weekends.”

“Not to mention,” George said, “what are you running now, 5K and 10k?”

“Both,” she said. “It depends on the day of the week and how I’m feeling.” She smiled and lay back down. “I’m in bed now. I might just stay here today.” At the frown forming on his face, she added quickly, “Maybe go out for a couple of runs when it warms up outside.”

“Ha.” He laughed. “I bet you’re still in bed when I get back.”

“Hey.” She kicked him through the sleeping bag. It was a faint effort and hurt her more than him. “That’s not fair.”

“We’ll see.” He grinned. “You were always hard to get out of bed.”

“What? When I was six?”

“Maybe.” He stood, a big smirk on his face. “Stevie and Mark and I are heading out to do a quick check on the snow conditions. Then we can make plans.”

“No breakfast?” she asked, not moving and having no intention of moving any time soon. “Make sure you load the fire to keep it going.”

“Maybe you should work on breakfast.” He headed to the stairs and called back. “We’ll be back in just over an hour. And we’ll be hungry.”

She groaned. “Listen to you, giving orders already.”

“Always, sis. You’re the boss at work. I’m the boss here.”

There was no arguing that. She lay on her back and listened with half an ear as the group discussed the array of runs offered. They wanted to do as much as possible over the next week. She had no such ambition. As it stood now, going downstairs was about all she could manage. She sipped her coffee and relaxed. The more she relaxed, the more she realized how long it had been since she’d let her guard down. The last few years had been very stressful. Too stressful. She’d seen herself how bad she’d gotten. The nights she hadn’t been able to sleep. She’d worked herself until she collapsed to the floor then picked herself up and did it all over again. She hadn’t really noticed until she’d been flattened by pneumonia.

What she hadn’t realized was that others had noticed.

Of course, one was her brother. If anyone would notice, it would be him. Or maybe not. She worked with Stevie and Mark. They’d seen her day after day as they worked in the lab. She’d been promoted just after the girls had died. As a way to avoid being overwhelmed with grief, she’d worked her ass off. Staying late, coming in early. She’d picked up the extra duties and kept her own. She still did.

Then she’d spent a weekend with Royce and, after that, had done everything she could to forget him.

Instead of just missing lunch, she’d also skimped on breakfast and when she got home, she often crashed before eating a decent dinner.

The end was a foregone conclusion.

She’d caught herself before completely collapsing. She’d actually gone to a doctor, something she rarely did but knew she couldn’t put it off anymore before she got any worse. If she couldn’t work, she didn’t think she’d have survived.

The doctor had been horrified when she’d seen Stacy. Immediately, Stacy had been heavily dosed with vitamins and minerals, put on heavy antibiotics, and weighed and measured so she could check her progress.

That had been her epiphany.

A massive wake-up call.

She’d only realized as she’d stood on the scales in the doctor’s office how dire the situation had gotten. She’d been a hair over one hundred and five pounds. At 5’ 9”, that meant she was a skin-covered skeleton. And she’d seen more than her fair share of those. The mirror showed her starkly how much she’d let herself fall. And that she was only a step away from death. She could just imagine her co-workers performing an autopsy on her young bag of bones and wondering what the hell had happened to her.

The doctor had also ordered her to a psychiatrist for a mental health check-up. Stacy had been just scared enough that she’d gone. It had been difficult to convince the good psychiatrist that she wasn’t suicidal or bulimic or anorexic. As she’d tried to explain, she’d seen the decline herself. Her actions were that of a woman trying to forget. To remove herself from the world that had become too painful.

Just not in a suicidal sort of way.

But the psychiatrist hadn’t been so easily convinced. Indeed, she’d seen him for over three months before she realized he’d helped and that her emotions
had
stabilized. If nothing else, she understood what she’d done. And how she’d gotten to this point. With his help, she had picked herself up, made a promise to take better care of herself, and to rejoice in the life she’d been so quick to underappreciate.

It had taken six months to add a layer of flesh under her skin and another six months to get the rounded look back on her face.

Still, it had scared her. It had also shown her how weak she’d become. And how greatly she’d been affected by the loss of those she’d loved.

She’d vowed to never let that happen again.

Only she’d fallen sick again a couple months ago – a relapse – minor but scary when she considered how slow her recovery had been. In some ways, still was.

She’d brought her physical health back as far as she could but understood that it was sitting on a delicate balance. And so was her emotional state.

“Are you going to come down here or stay up there all day?”

She started. She’d been so lost in her own musings that she hadn’t even realized where she was. Or who she was with. She sat up and looked over the railing.

“Oh, so you are awake.” Royce stood in front of the heater stove. “Are you coming down? Or,” his voice deepened, “are you scared to be alone with me?”

“Alone?” she asked. She bounded to her feet and leaned over the railing. Sure enough, there was no one down there. “Is everyone else asleep?”

He shook his head. “They’re gone.” His grin flashed. “George came back and checked on you but you’d dozed off – again.”

“I’ll be down in a few minutes.” she cried out, unaccountably flustered. She hadn’t meant to sleep again.

“Don’t worry about it,” Royce called up. “Do get dressed and come down for a fresh cup of coffee though.”

“I’ll be right there.” She dressed quickly, picked up the cup still full of cold coffee, and carried it down the stairs. He was standing in front of the stove holding the coffeepot when she made her way over to him. She dumped it and rinsed out her cup and returned to where he stood, the cup held out in front of her.

He filled it.

“I’m surprised I slept so much,” she said with a smile.

“It goes with the territory. Coming out in the cold like this often tires someone out. Especially someone who isn’t used to it.”

“I do remember. It’s been a while though.”

“Three years by any chance?”

She knew he was asking if she’d been skiing since the avalanche. “Not since then,” she said. “Everything was before then.”

He didn’t agree. “Not everything.”

That deep dark voice rolled through her, bringing back memories better left forgotten. She glanced at him sideways from under her lashes but she stayed quiet, not sure what to say.

After a little silence, she asked, “When will they be back? I was supposed to have breakfast ready for them.”

That brought a healthy laugh from him. “In that case, let’s get them something to eat. They’re likely to be here in about fifteen to twenty minutes.”

He walked over to the coolers of food and opened them. He found what he was looking for in the second one and hauled out sausages and eggs. He nodded to one of the boxes on the side. “There are several loaves of French bread over there. And there are crumpets.”

“Oh, now that sounds good.” She pulled out the crumpets and one loaf of bread, then spied the wire toaster rack where she could clamp the bread in between the racks and hold it over a fire. She turned to glance at the open fireplace. “Toast would be good.”

“Absolutely. Have a piece now,” he suggested. “I’m going to put a pan of sausages on the stove and we’ll do a big mess of eggs as well.”

She quickly cut several slices of French bread and sat in front of the fireplace, making toast. The others might not be here on time, and that was okay with her. She’d eat it all with the appetite she’d worked up.

“I hope you plan on sharing that.”

“If they get home in time.”

“I’ll have a slice, please.”

And with that, they slid into the easy camaraderie they’d had years ago.

*

That had happened
easier than expected. He hadn’t been sure when she’d first come down but after a few awkward sideways glances and a weird buffer of space between them, she seemed to have settled down with being alone with him.

Good.

He wanted a lot more but hell, he’d take baby steps if that’s all he could get right now.

She was so damn skinny still. He wanted to feed her several meals before the others returned. As he watched, she broke off a piece of toast and popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes at the taste.