Page 112 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
“Okay.” Unsure of what else to say, I grab my phone from the coffee table behind her and head upstairs, where I don’t plan on being very long because it’s cold. I have to get out of these clothes.
When I get up to my room, I close the door, dial Cole’s number, and put it on speaker as I take some baby wipes that we keep for instances just like this and start stripping down to clean up.
“Hello?” he answers.
“She was in the cottage, fucking frozen, man.”
“Are you serious?” Cole asks.
I wipe down my body, even though I took a shower before the power went out. “Yeah. No lights, no heat source, nothing. Found her in a pile of blankets, barely any life to her face.”
“Jesus fuck. Do we need to send paramedics?”
“No.” I slip on a new pair of boxer briefs and then socks. “She’s in front of the fire right now with a lot of blankets, and she just drank some tea. I had to help her, of course, but she drank it. She’s warming up, but I’m keeping an eye on her.”
“Okay, do you need us to do anything?”
“I don’t think so. Not like you can do anything anyway. It’s brutal out there.” I slip on a pair of blue-and-green-plaid flannel pants and a white long-sleeved shirt.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I sigh as I take a seat on my bed. “I went back out after I brought her to my house, because she has a tarantula.”
“What?”
“Yeah, my thoughts as well. And since the heat went out, I didn’t think it would survive, so I went back and got it.”
“I would have let the spider die,” Cole says.
“And that’s why people say I’m the nice one between the two of us.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Okay, so you’re safe then?”
“I’m good. I’ll keep an eye on her, and I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“Okay, sounds good. Be safe, man.”
“You too.”
I hang up the phone and then head down the stairs with the long-sleeved shirt that pairs with my pajama set. I set it next to the fire to warm up. Then I sit across from her and take her in.
Her eyes are closed, the blankets are up to her chin, but she’s stopped shaking, and she definitely has more color in her face.
I can’t believe she thought she’d just stay there all night. The thought of it makes me physically ill, because she wouldn’t have survived.
Not a goddamn chance.
Wanting her to rest, I add another log to the fire, and then I set the bed up. It’s going to be a long night.
Betty
I can feel my toes.
My fingers.
My limbs.
Everything is . . . warm.
