And then he drew a breath. Oh, the desperation written in every line of his body just hit her, found her bones. Beside her, Shep took her hand.
“Then we need to get back to Anchorage. Now.” This from Axel.
“Except. The dogs can’t make that run.” Wilder, his voice soft from the doorway. “Not tonight. Not after what they’ve already done.”
“Then I’ll walk if I have to.”
Oh no, he meant it. London could see it in his stance, hear it in his voice. Moose would walk through a blizzard to get to Tillie.
“Snowmobiles.” Mary Clearwater appeared from another room, holding a cup of something steaming. “We’ve got four. Fully fueled, winter equipped. You could make Anchorage in three hours, maybe less.” Mary handed the steaming mug to Moose. “Sit down for a second. Get warm. You need to think.”
Yes, maybe they all needed a cup of hot—something. Because three hours across open terrain in subfreezing temperatures, following trails probably blown over with snow—not a great idea. Dangerous under the best conditions.
Potentially lethal now.
But Moose’s face said the decision was already made.
“Moose,” Wilder said, walking up to him. “Visibility’s still poor, and the cold?—”
“I’m going.” Moose’s jaw tightened. “Anyone who wants to come is welcome. Anyone who wants to wait for better weather can stay here.”
Shep stepped forward. No hesitation. “I’m in.”
“Same,” Axel said, appearing with gear already packed.
Wilder moved closer to Moose, voice quiet but carrying in the small room. “You know, I’ve been where you are. Racing toward the hospital, not knowing if the person you love most is going to be okay when you get there.”
Moose’s throat worked. “Your wife?”
“Different circumstances. But that feeling—like your chest is being crushed and you can’t draw a full breath? Like if you don’t get there fast enough, somehow it’ll be your fault?” Wilder nodded. “Yeah. I know that feeling.”
London found herself holding her breath, watching Moose’s face as the words hit.
“How do you get through it?” Moose said, a small hitch to his voice.
“You remember that some things are bigger than your ability to control them.” Wilder said softly, his hand on Moose’s shoulder. “God doesn’t promise to keep us from the storm, but He promises to bring us through it.”
Through it.
Not around it, not away from it. Through.
He blew out a breath.
“You’re thinking…what if you already failed her by not being there when?—”
“Yeah.”
The quiet admission speared through London. And maybe Shep too because his grip tightened.
“Moose,” Axel said. “You think Tillie married you because you’re perfect? Because you can control every outcome and prevent every crisis?”
“I...”
“She married you because you’re the kind of man who races through blizzards to get to her side. Because when the storms hit—and they will hit—you don’t run away from the people who need you.” Axel drew in a breath, walked to the door. “That’s not failure, brother. That’s love.”
And even for London, the tightness in her chest eased.
Moose drew a breath, but his mouth tightened around the edges.
