XOXO: A Bundle of Cozy Novellas

Edmund

EDMUND

Edmund didn’t want Owen to think he was being dramatic, but the snow was falling thick and fast now, and it made him nervous. The roads were clear enough, but the sidewalks and lawns they passed on their way to the highway were already blanketed with a thick white quilt. Still, he had to admit, even as nervous as he was, the snow-covered city was beautiful.

Owen of course handled the car with ease, although it was slow going and Edmund could tell Owen was trying to be patient. A smaller car slid sideways in front of them on one of the main streets, and they were forced to wait for a tow truck to come and drag it out of the way. Once they were back on the main highway, things seemed to be better, but, glancing at the speedometer, he saw Owen was taking it slow.

“We’ll be fine,” Owen said, as if reading Edmund’s mind or maybe trying to convince himself. “Once we get over Stevens Pass it will be smooth sailing, and luckily this side is not as steep.”

Which would logically mean it was steeper on the other side of the pass. Edmund took a deep, calming breath, reminding himself for the hundredth time that Owen was experienced at driving in the snow.

He hadn’t been in the car when his parents were killed—he’d been staying at a friend’s house or with a babysitter—but he knew from his own aunt that the motorway had been treacherous. A car ahead of them had spun out, and his father had likely been unable to stop in time. Both his parents had been killed instantly.

“I promise you I will get you home safely.” Owen’s pleasant baritone broke into Edmund’s thoughts.

“I believe you, I’m just a nervous git.”

“Do you want to turn on some music?” Owen asked.

No, he wanted all of Owen’s attention on the road. Brake lights flashed red ahead of them, and Owen slowed down even more. It seemed like there was a long line of cars in front of them. There were cars coming the other way, though—that was good, right? Edmund found it difficult to see the road. The snow was falling much more quickly now, and a wind had blown up, causing the snow to swirl and reflect white back into their headlights.

They drove on in silence for several minutes, Edmund keeping his eyes fastened on the road—as if he could do anything if he spotted something out there Owen didn’t. Up ahead, instead of brake lights, Edmund recognized the red and blue flashing lights of a police car pulled across the roadway, blocking westbound traffic. One by one, the cars ahead were pulling out of the lane, turning around, and heading back the other direction. A heavily bundled state trooper was making his way down the line of westbound cars. When he got to theirs, Owen put down his window.

“What’s going on?” Owen asked.

The officer leaned in the open window. Snowflakes were sticking to his handlebar mustache and eyebrows, making him look a little like a yeti—or what Edmund imagined a yeti looked like.

“The highway’s closed. You’ll have to wait here or turn around.”

“How long will it be closed?” Owen asked.

The trooper shook his head. “No idea. The state’s performing avalanche control. But that’s not the biggest problem.”

“What?”

“About five miles back, a number of trees are down, blocking the eastbound highway.”

Edmund realized he hadn’t seen any headlights behind them for some time, and they were one of the last cars in line.

“Shit, we’re—we’re trapped here?” Owen’s tone was unbelieving. “For how long?”

“I’m afraid no one’s going anywhere for now. Hopefully we can get it cleared up before too long. In the meantime, I’d see if you can get a room somewhere. We don’t want anyone freezing out here. It’s going to be at least overnight before it’s open again—it’s too dangerous for the tree removal crew to be working out here with the danger of an avalanche.”

Edmund didn’t want that either. Avalanche was a big scary word he didn’t want to be adjacent to. He had visions of tons, literal tons, of snow rushing down the mountainside to swallow them up. He shuddered. Owen continued to talk to the officer about the road conditions, but Edmund had a crisis to avoid. He dug his phone out of his rucksack, and with relief he saw it had at least a few connection bars in this remote part of Washington State. This was a ski resort area, he reasoned; there had to be someplace available for them to stay the night.

His first search result indicated the two closest motels were full, as was the ski resort. With flying fingers, he searched vacation rentals nearby. Almost before Owen closed his window and sat there digesting the information provided by the trooper—or could ask Edmund what he was doing—Edmund had rented them a small cabin for the night. It was somewhere close, the map claimed. A cozy A-frame with two bedrooms, remodeled kitchen, and stone fireplace, and the owner provided a combination for them to get inside.

Thank you, internet .

“What the hell are we going to do? Where are we going to stay? I’m going to get fired. Fuck my life.” Owen’s voice was small, and Edmund realized just how upset he was. This, combined with worry about his aunt, had to be very stressful.

“Jude can’t possibly fire you. Even he will understand you don’t control the weather. I’ll text him and explain.”

“I just… This is impossible. This can’t be happening.” Owen gripped the steering wheel, tugging at it in frustration.

“Don’t panic,” Edmund replied in a soothing tone. “I rented a place not far from here. We’ll stay the night. Surely this will all be cleaned up by morning.”

“You what?” Owen exclaimed, looking over at him.

“While you were talking to the nice state trooper, I popped online and found a place to stay for the night. The map indicates it’s around a mile or so off the last exit we passed by. At least I think so.”

Edmund held his smartphone out so Owen could see the map. He glanced at it before taking the phone from Edmund and peering at it more closely.

“Wow, okay. Um, I guess the motels were full already? That’s what always happens when they close the pass. We could try and get around the trees on back roads if you want, instead of spending your money on staying overnight. I don’t know how I’m going to repay you. This kind of thing is not in my budget right now.”

The worry in Owen’s voice was clear. Edmund didn’t want him to worry, but he also knew that sometimes money, or the lack of it, made people defensive.

“You can repay me if you can, or not, but I don’t want to be driving on these roads no matter how good a driver you are. I am petrified.” He might as well play it up, make it about himself, and that way Owen would maybe feel like he was doing Edmund a favor by stopping. “The sooner we’re out of the car and safe inside the better.”

Without replying, Owen nodded and sucked a deep breath into his lungs, then released it. With great expertise (in Edmund’s opinion), he popped the car into reverse and backed it up. Once they reached a spot where the built-up snow wasn’t as deep, he maneuvered the SUV up and over the snow into the eastbound lanes. It seemed like they were the last car on the road at this point. Edmund found it eerie with no other headlights or brake lights visible in either direction when he knew they were on a fairly major motorway. They were east of the ski area and lodge; whatever light was shining there did not reach this far.

Slowly and carefully, Owen drove the long mile to the closest exit. Snow continued to build quickly with no other cars on the road to keep it from landing and sticking. The flakes were pretty as they delicately fell in all directions. Had it picked up again, Edmund wondered—was it snowing even harder? He glanced over at Owen, whose focus was entirely on the road ahead. From the expression on his face, Edmund thought it likely.

Finally, the green exit sign appeared out of the whiteness. Owen flipped on the turn signal and then chuckled. “There’s no one behind us, so I don’t know why I did that—automatic, I guess.”

When they reached the end of the ramp, Owen said, “Which way?”

Edmund glanced at his screen. “We turn left and go under the highway, then the road snakes around and we take a right and a left. The owner says there’s a rock formation at the end of the drive with the address on it.”

Owen followed Edmund’s directions. Just before the next turn, they passed a small restaurant. It was closed, but there was a grocery store next door, and its bright red Open sign was turned on.

“Let’s stop here,” Owen said, “and get some things for dinner? I need a glass of wine. Maybe a whole damn bottle.”

“Excellent idea.” The hamburger had been hours ago. He was definitely hungry, and he could use a glass or two of wine himself.

Plain Mercantile was a throwback to the heyday of the American highway system. It carried everything from road maps and potato chips to T-shirts (“I Met Bigfoot”) and postcards. And there was a nice selection of wines, both red and white.

Owen stared at the shelves of wine while Edmund browsed the grocery section—he liked to cook but wasn’t very good at it. He had no idea what Owen liked to eat other than hamburgers and milkshakes, but at least he knew he wasn’t a vegetarian. Soon enough Edmund had a jar of pasta sauce, dried linguine, and a bag of salad in his basket. He added some cinnamon rolls for the morning. Owen found him contemplating the deli counter, where they offered meats cured by a local company.

“Those salamis are amazing. They’ve been making them for years.”

Edmund had the kid behind the counter wrap up a quarter pound of three different kinds and some sliced provolone and then went back for rolls. If nothing else, they’d have something for lunch tomorrow.

He glanced in the basket hanging over Owen’s forearm, noting there were four different bottles of wine tucked inside.

Owen followed his gaze and shrugged apologetically. “I couldn’t decide.”

Edmund stopped himself from offering to pay for the wine. He suspected Owen would protest, and it just didn’t seem a hill he needed to conquer at this point. He’d paid for the cabin, and that was enough for now.

Together they went to the checkout, and the same pimply teenager who’d waited on them at the deli counter rang up their purchases. Back out at the car, they stowed their bags in the back seat. Edmund pulled up the directions on his phone again, and within minutes they were bumping down a snow-covered driveway toward a cute cabin not far from what the map said was the Wenatchee River. Edmund thanked the inventor of the smartphone, as he never would’ve found this place without it. He’d never fantasized about being stranded on a motorway in a snowstorm and didn’t plan on starting now.

Although… his brain shuddered to a stop. He was going to be spending the night in a snowy cabin with the beautiful and unobtainable Owen Addison. He briefly allowed himself a dream, the plot of which was thick with Owen revealing he had a penchant for older men and didn’t care that Edmund carried a few extra pounds.

The man in question turned off the car engine, dragging Edmund out of his distracting thoughts. Owen had parked under a carport; there was no garage that Edmund could see. The dense evergreens and the carport had kept the drive clear enough for now. At least his car wouldn’t be covered with snow tomorrow.

“Let’s go,” Owen said.

The two of them extricated themselves from the car, grabbing their groceries and bags before stomping a path across the yard. The cabin itself was something out of a dream, a one-and-a-half-story A-frame painted a vibrant, but perfect, shade of green—at least that’s what the photographs had shown. It was set back from the road; a large front porch area was afforded some privacy by a wood lattice with a lean-to roof. After he and Owen passed through a gate between the carport and the walkway, a security lamp came on, lighting their way to the front door. There was a hot tub too, tucked under the lean-to. It’d been featured on the website.

He was thankful he’d decided to wear the Harrys of London boots he’d splurged on ages ago on the off chance he ever went on a ramble. He hadn’t, and they’d sat in his closet gathering dust until this morning when he’d run inside to grab his rucksack. Owen, Edmund noticed, sported a pair of trendy Timberlands, very popular in Skagit with all the rain and mud this time of year. Not that Edmund had an eye for footwear.

The front door had an electronic combination lock. Using his phone, Edmund looked up the code the owner had sent him, and Owen moved up to stand next to him as he tapped in the correct numbers. The light flashed from red to green and he pushed on the door which swung open with a quiet creak. Stepping over the threshold, Edmund fumbled along the wall for the light switch, flicking it on.

“Edmund, this place is amazing!”

He was pleased to see a great room with a stone fireplace and a large, comfortable-looking couch placed in front of it. The was a television mounted on the wall over the mantel. Next to the fireplace a sliding glass door led to a backyard, and he spotted a stack of firewood outside—protected from the elements by an open-sided shed gizmo.

“Not bad for a last-minute thing, is it?”

“Not bad?” Owen’s voice rose. “I’ll never be able to pay you back for this—or at least it is going to take me a while. But I’m going to try and not think about that right now, because the alternative would be sleeping in your car, and like the trooper said, that’s very dangerous.”

A small but well-appointed kitchen was just off to the side; only a tiny island-counter demarked the space from the living room.

“Let’s get these groceries put away, why don’t we?”

“I’ll find a wine opener, but first the thermostat—it’s freezing in here.”

“Can you get a fire going?” Edmund asked. “A nice crackling fire sounds heavenly. We were only outside for a few minutes, but I’m biting cold. I’ll look for the corkscrew while you warm us up.” The last words repeated in his head, and Edmund cringed. Gads, he hoped Owen hadn’t been paying attention.

“Yeah, great idea.”

Owen crossed to the fireplace while Edmund began pulling their groceries out, placing them on the counter before stashing the deli meats in the shiny stainless steel refrigerator. All the appliances were stainless steel, and Edmund quite liked the look of them. Maybe he’d do something like this in his kitchen. His enormous kitchen for one. He rolled his eyes at himself, hearing Chance’s voice in his head telling him how ridiculous it was to have bought the huge old house.

Ignoring Chance, he found the wine opener in one of the top drawers and pulled it out.

“What wine would you like me to open?”

Owen was kneeling in front of the fireplace; he’d pulled the guard away and was leaning forward, tucking bits of paper around the waiting logs. He glanced over his shoulder at Edmund. “Let’s try that cab from the Red Mountain area. I’ve heard great things about Demeter and never been able to find it before—I thought it was subscription only, and I cannot afford that shit.”

The bottle Owen was referring to had a green label with an illustration of the goddess Demeter sipping on a glass of wine, very art nouveau, and quite classy in Edmund’s opinion. Quickly he opened it, trying not to be distracted by Owen’s sexy arse and strong shoulders.

“There!” Owen sat back on his heels to admire his handiwork, wiping his hands on his slacks. Edmund poured each of them an extra-large glass of wine—after all, they weren’t going anywhere.

“Excellent, come get your wine. I’ll start the pasta.”

Almost immediately upon the words passing his lips, the cabin began to fill with smoke. Edmund panicked and held his breath—had Owen somehow set the house on fire? What was happening? The shrill, insistent shriek of a smoke alarm started, and Edmund had to put his hands over his ears.

“What’s happening?” He hated that he sounded scared. He also realized that holding his breath was going to do him no good if he fainted.

“Oh my god, I am such a catastrophe.” Owen had jumped up and was fiddling with something on the mantel. “I forgot to open the flue! I’m so sorry!”

With the flue properly open, the smoke began to dissipate, but Owen unlocked and opened the sliding door to let the smoke outside, leaving the screen shut.

“It’s cold, but it’ll make the smoke go away faster. I’m sorry about that.” He was speaking over the smoke alarm, which was still shrieking.

Edmund tried not to look as if he’d nearly wet himself. A man needed some dignity.

“Jesus Christ.” Owen strode over to the counter and grabbed one of the glasses and raised it. “Here’s to getting off the highway! I don’t even want to think how close we were to those trees falling on us.”

Edmund almost forgot to raise his glass—he hadn’t even considered that trees falling meant they might have fallen on them. Quickly he clinked it against Owen’s, and they both took long sips.

Owen waggled his eyebrows and asked, “So, what’re we going to do now?”