Page 9 of Snowed In with Benefits

I pause for breath. How do you explain that to a room full of a hundred and fifty people? How do you say, thank you for coming, but I’m having an existential crisis and I need a hot second to figure my life out real quick?

“And so I didn’t stop. I just kept running. I knew my keys were in my friend’s coat, and her coat was by the door, so I went through her pockets and found my keys. I swear, I just needed a minute. That’s what I kept telling myself, anyway. I just needed a minute to put my head on straight and then I’d go back in.”

Emmett shakes his head like he knows something about what I’m saying. I mean, I guess it’s obvious that I never went back, but there’s something more to the gesture that I can’t quite put my finger on. I don’t try too hard, honestly. I’m nearing the end of my story and the words are just falling out of me now.

“But then I started to drive. And drive. And the next thing I knew, I was climbing the mountain and the weather was getting bad.” I look at the three of them, remembering how they all insinuated one way or another that I was stupid for being out there like that.

“I’m not stupid,” I say, a little too defensively. “I wouldn’t usually drive into the mountains when a storm is coming, and I definitely wouldn’t drive out here in that damn dress. I just—I wasn’t thinking. I was running. I didn’t even know that I was running until I was far out of town, far away from the church and Preston and all of it.”

Beau and Emmett have both been listening with intense looks on their faces that I can’t quite read. Hunter has been egging me on this whole time with sympathetic little smiles every time I pause.

“You said he was perfect.” Emmett narrows his eyes at me.

“He was perfect. Is… is perfect.” I shake my head at myself. Of course Preston is perfect, Mom wouldn’t have been happy about the wedding if he wasn’t.

“If he was perfect, you wouldn’t have run out on him.” There’s nothing accusatory in Emmett’s voice, just a factual statement.

“Right?” Beau adds his own commentary. I brace for the sarcasm. “Perfect is a pretty high bar.”

“That’s just it,” I start to explain, but then I stop. How can I explain? I barely understand it myself. “I just couldn’t.”

“Clearly.” Emmett shifts where he stands, his eyes piercing. “But why?”

“Because… well, it was just so much, and… I don’t know.” My face is burning with shame and embarrassment, and there’s nothing I can say to explain myself that I haven’t already said. “I needed to run.”

I still need to run. I can feel the pressure of their gazes on my shoulders, condensing in my chest. If I can’t even explain myself to strangers, how the hell am I going to explain myself to anybody else? Emmett is glaring at me, Beau has a mocking half-smile on his face. These guys really don’t like me.

“Soup’s on,” Hunter says, cutting through the tension with a plate of food. It smells amazing and it seems to capture the guys’ attention. They serve up their own plates and the kitchen falls blissfully silent as we all dig in to Hunter’s creation.

It’s delicious, and not just because I haven’t eaten all day. Sausages cooked to perfection, crispy potatoes with onions, and fluffy scrambled eggs. It’s like he took what I was already making for myself and just made it ten thousand percent better.

I shovel it down, focusing only on the food, avoiding the loaded glances from Emmett and Beau. Hunter seems to be oblivious to the tension. I’m sure he’s not, but he’s putting on a good face, smiling and hmm-ing while he eats. I’m glad he’s distracted. I’m not sure what’s more uncomfortable, his sympathy or the others’ scrutiny.

It’s okay. It’s almost time for bed. As soon as I get some sleep, I can get out of here. This meal will keep me going until I reach a town down the mountain tomorrow morning. I just need to focus and avoid getting into any more heavy conversations with these guys.

I clear my plate in a flash and Hunter gives me an approving look, then slips back into his role as host of the year.

“Do you have everything you need? Do you need any more blankets? Something to sleep in?”

“I’m okay.” I shake my head. “I have pajamas, and you put plenty of blankets on the couch. Thank you for that.”

“Of course. We can’t have you freezing.” He gives me an honest smile that doesn’t contain any of the sarcasm I would expect if the other two made that comment. I smile back at him, grateful.

Emmett collects the plates and starts to wash up. Beau is glowering at the table, either lost in his own thoughts or simmering with anger about something… probably my presence in general. Hunter opens his arm to me, offering me an escort to the living room, where my pajamas are.

“Thank you for dinner.” I wait until we’re out of the kitchen to smile at him.

“My pleasure! I honestly love to cook.” His easy smile makes his eyes crinkle behind his glasses.

“I can tell.”

We reach the living room and he glances at the stairs. “I’ll be heading up to bed. You’re sure you have what you need?”

“I’m sure.” I give him a reassuring smile.

“Goodnight, then,” he says gently. “Get some good sleep.”

“I will. I’ll try.”