Someone must be missing her. She had to have parents, siblings, a significant other, possibly even children. He had to make that call, and fast.
He cut a hand through his hair. “I’ve got some thick socks for you to wear. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as he stepped out of the room, he had his phone in hand. He started dialing the police department but stopped. Was it rude to talk about her with her sitting in the other room, within earshot? First he’d get the socks and then leave her to eat while he stepped outside to make the call.
At that moment, the wind decided to kick up a fuss, howling at the cabin in a blustery gust and rattling the windows.
Hunt stared at the darkened window glass cut into four picturesque squares. Maybe that call would have to wait until the storm died down or Freya fell asleep.
Aries lay sprawled on the floor, head on his paws. He cracked an eye at Hunt. Seeing he wouldn’t be asked to work right now, he returned to his slumber. Hunt grabbed the socks and one of his thick flannel shirts and returned to the bedroom.
Freya paused with a spoonful of soup midway to her mouth. Her eyes ticked up to him. “This is good. Hot.”
He offered a smile. At least as much of a smile as he could muster. Small talk didn’t come easy to him when he was worried.
She pivoted her head to look through the window opposite the bed. “It’s really blowing out there.”
“It’s going to be a while before I can get you back down the mountain. I hope you didn’t have any weekend holiday plans.”
She shook her head.
“Family parties with games of Pictionary?”
She gave him a soft smile and a shake of her head. “No. My holidays this year are a little dreary. How about you?”
“I was coming from a company Christmas party when I found you. Eggnog, crazy light-up reindeer sweaters and dogs wearing antlers and jingle bells on their collars.”
Her smile stretched. “That sounds really fun. Our office parties are much duller. The best we get is Christmas punch made with 7-Up. And trays of dry store-bought cookies even though I’ve offered to bake them myself.”
Her expression gave nothing away about what happened to her, but all of a sudden, the little V was back between her brows.
He leaned against the doorframe. “Freya, where are you from?”
She set the spoon down. “I’m not sure.”
“You can’t remember?”
Her brow crumpled, and she shook her head.
The urge to go to her and comfort her was strong, but he braced himself in the doorway and watched her struggle.
“It’s okay. After you eat, I’m going to check you further for a head injury.”
“Where am I now?” she asked.
“The closest town is Tippin.”
She blinked slowly.
“Do you know it? Do you live in Tippin?”
She shook her head. “I can’t remember much, but I know I don’t live in Tippin. It’s really small, isn’t it?”
“Yes, which is why travel won’t be possible until the storm stops. Tippin’s no more than a speck on the map. They don’t have a big crew to take care of the roads, and the medical clinic doesn’t have a doctor in it full-time. With it being close to Christmas, who knows if anyone is there to help. The shops and businesses close early too. Some holidays they never open at all. And forget about grabbing a pizza on Sunday.”
His joke fell flat. Her brow remained pinched in concentration. “Why can’t I remember anything?” she burst out.
He took a step toward her but stopped. “You took a blow to the head and had a traumatic experience. But don’t worry, I’ll help you figure things out. Until the storm passes, you’re stuck with me in the cabin. Good thing I’m stocked up on tea, and there’s plenty of hot water for a bath if you want one.”
The slump of her shoulders matched the despondent nod she gave him.
Hunt left her to her meal and went back out to sit out the storm with Aries. He had to face the fact that he and Freya would be waiting out the storm together.
Chapter Four
Freya sank into the heated depths of the bathtub and let out a sigh of satisfaction. Finally, she was warm.
It’d only taken layers and layers of blankets, skin-to-skin contact with her rescuer, a dog lying on her feet, hot chicken noodle soup and a cup of tea, plus the bath. But now she could wiggle her toes without them stinging and her insides didn’t feel like she was sitting on a fault line in the middle of an earthquake.
Now that her mind shifted away from the task of staying alive, she could concentrate on the matter of why she was here.
In a remote cabin.
With a stranger who’d plucked her out of the snow and saved her life.
She splashed warm water on her face. This wasn’t the first time she’d had a hole in her memory. In fact, her whole childhood was spotty.
When she got into a situation that stressed her deeply, she blocked things out. Her shrinks called it dissociative amnesia. But she couldn’t exactly share that with Hunt, could she? He’d think she was crazy—everyone in her past did.
What had happened to make her black out a portion of her memory again? In her early years with her mother and father, it was nasty things that happened to her. That meant she hardly recalled her parents at all.
Later, each time she was shuttled to a new foster home, she had no memory of the in-betweens. It felt like a camera battery went dead during filming, trailing off one scene and opening on another that made little sense.
After leaving one foster home, she’d simply “wake up” at a new house with new caretakers.
Trying to force the memory of what happened to surface wouldn’t help, either. Therapists had tried to unearth them by roleplaying, through crayon art and with hypnosis. Those portions of her life were just…gone.
This one likely was too.
The fundamentals of who she was were still intact. Her name was Freya. Her favorite color was red, and despite having a lot of bad Christmases in her youth, she still loved the holiday.
Through the blurry lens of her mind’s eye, she recalled getting behind the wheel of her car. After that…nothing. Had she wrecked and walked until she collapsed in the snow?
She leaned her head against the back of the tub and winced as pain shot through her skull. With a small gasp, she tenderly fingered the injury. She’d forgotten about the bruise on the back of her head, though she didn’t know how since Hunt had sat her down before her bath and cleaned the small gash, telling her that the lump surrounding it would take a few days to go down.
He’d also used a flashlight to examine her eyes to check for a concussion. She didn’t think she had a head injury. Her memory loss was due to her stupid body’s reaction to life events.
Who blacked out when they got stressed? She chewed on her lower lip, considering whether or not to tell Hunt the truth, but she wasn’t a confider. She was a foster kid, raised by the system to keep secrets, and take care of herself. She was tired of seeing pity on people’s faces. She refused to see it on Hunt’s too. No, she wouldn’t tell him yet.
The storm raged outside, the howl of the wind reaching her through the thick log walls. Getting down the mountain—or anywhere, for that matter—would be impossible until this storm passed. She’d seen a lot of bad weather growing up in Alaska, and this storm sounded like one of the worst.