A Snowed-in Christmas
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
Chapter 15
When the sun finally found its way through the cabin windows, bright and blinding snow covered the ground outside, it would be the wake-up call Karen never wanted.
Her head pounded her to consciousness the next morning, eyeballs throbbing beneath her lids until she was brave enough to break them open.
Karen groaned when the first little ray of sunlight found her, and she realized two things at the same time.
One, she was extremely warm. Bert was underneath the quilt with her, his legs and arms tangled up with her, their naked bodies stuck together and steaming.
Two, she was going to throw up.
She ran to the bathroom.
Bert groaned, mumbling something under his breath that sounded like, “Are you okay.”
She made it to the toilet just in time to drop to her knees and forfeit whatever she had left in her stomach, which wasn’t much else than booze.
A long groan left Karen when she had finished heaving, and she rested her cheek on the toilet, peeking up at the man staring down at her.
Bert smiled at her. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Karen replied sheepishly. “I hate you for making me take that shot of gin.”
He chuckled, lowering down to the ground next to her. It was then that she noticed the glass of something cloudy and orange in his hand and two little candy-coated pills.
“Advil,” he explained. “And chase it with this.”
“What is it?” she asked, sitting up and taking the glass from him, inspecting the contents.
“My hangover cure.”
Karen arched a brow.
“Just trust me,” he insisted, and so she did, tossing the pills into her mouth and washing them down with the cure. It tasted like orange juice and salt water, and she grimaced, choking down as much as she could manage before she gave up.
When Karen looked back at Bert, at the way his eyes were crawling over her, the way his lips were set in a soft smile, she realized what she’d somehow forgotten. She was stark-ass naked.
“God, look at me,” she said, curling in on herself. “A mess on Jesus’ birthday.”
Bert barked out a laugh, standing before he helped her up and back to the couch.
Littered around the cabin was all the evidence of what had transpired the previous night. There were their half-empty glasses of spiked eggnog. The Christmas Blanket was in a heap by the fire, which had gone out overnight.
The little radio still played Christmas music softly, and with just one look out the window, she could see the storm was over. It was still mostly cloudy, but the sun was shining through the silvery clouds.
Karen’s stomach was still unsettled when she looked at Bert, who had his head propped on his arm, his eyes on her.
“So...” he said.
“So...” she echoed.
“We should probably talk.”
Karen nodded.
“Me first. I’ve seen dozens of different countries, hundreds of cities and towns and farms and lakes and rivers. I’ve spoken new languages, walked down new streets, met new people and maybe even found a new version of myself, too.
“I got married to a good man and had two wonderful children. Now, I’m alone again. My husband died, and my children are gone living their own lives. Honestly, I’ve felt lonely and depressed these past years.
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