By late afternoon, the storm had settled into a quiet hush.
Snow no longer fell in angry sheets, but in soft drifting flakes that floated like feathers across the sky. Cabin Six seemed to sit in the middle of a snow globe, untouched and peaceful.
Inside, the warmth from the fireplace lingered, along with the comforting smell of coffee and cocoa. Lily sat by the window drawing another masterpiece. Ethan was checking the radio for road updates, brow furrowed with quiet concentration.
Bella folded the last blanket she'd used earlier and placed it neatly back in the storage basket.
"You don't have to do that," Ethan said from across the room.
She turned. "Do what?"
"Help with everything." He set the radio down. "You're a guest."
Bella shrugged lightly. "I don't feel like a guest."
He blinked—an expression almost of surprise—and something in his gaze softened.
"You shouldn't feel pressured," he said quietly.
"I don't," she replied. "I just… like helping. It keeps my mind from overthinking."
Ethan understood that more than she expected. The line of his shoulders eased, and for a moment, they just looked at each other — not as strangers trapped by a storm, but as two people trying to mend something inside themselves.
A thud at the window broke the tension.
Lily squealed. "The snow mountain outside is HUGE now! Bella, come see!"
Ethan chuckled. "It's called a drift, Lil."
"No, Daddy," she said seriously, "it's a mountain."
Then she grabbed Bella's hand. "Come!"
Bella laughed and let herself be dragged to the window. The snowdrift was huge — piling halfway up the glass.
"Oh wow," Bella breathed. "If it gets any bigger, the cabin will disappear underneath it."
"That's why we're clearing the roof," Ethan said casually.
Bella spun. "Clearing the what?"
"The roof," he repeated, grabbing his winter jacket. "Snow gets too heavy, it collapses."
Bella's eyes widened. "Shouldn't we… call someone?"
"No lines. No service. Just us." Ethan opened the door and cold air swept in. "I'll only be up there a few minutes."
But Bella frowned. His shoulder was hurting earlier. She hadn't forgotten.
"Let me help."
He shook his head firmly. "Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"Because," he said, giving her a pointed look, "you could fall."
"So could you."
He froze.
And Bella realized she'd blurted it out too honestly.
Ethan cleared his throat. "It's different. I've done this before."
"I still want to help."
Lily chimed in, innocent but persuasive. "Daddy, Bella's strong! And she has balance. I saw her not fall once today."
Ethan pressed his lips together, torn between practicality and stubborn protectiveness.
Finally, he handed Bella a pair of thick boots.
"Fine," he said. "But stay where I tell you."
Bella grinned. "Yes, boss."
He rolled his eyes, but his ears turned slightly red.
⸻
The roof wasn't as steep as Bella feared, but it was still slippery with packed snow. Ethan moved like someone who had climbed roofs his entire life — steady, sure, methodical. Bella followed carefully, shovel in hand.
"You okay?" Ethan asked.
"Great," Bella said, though her legs shook slightly.
"Don't lie."
"I'm… moderately okay."
He smirked. "Better."
They worked together, clearing the heavy piles of snow. Bella quickly realized Ethan had taken most of the harder spots, purposely giving her the easier edges.
"You're doing all the heavy lifting," she said.
"You're helping."
"You're overprotective."
Ethan paused, leaning on his shovel. His breath puffed in the cold air.
"Maybe," he admitted.
Bella wasn't sure what to do with the strange warmth that bloomed in her chest at his confession.
As she stepped backward to clear a patch of ice, her boot slipped. A sharp gasp left her lips as she lost her footing —
But before she could fall, Ethan moved.
He grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward with a steadiness that felt instinctive. Bella stumbled into him, her hands flattening against his chest to steady herself. His arm wrapped around her automatically.
For a moment, time held still.
His sweater was warm.
His heartbeat was steady against her palms.
Their breath mingled in the cold air.
Snowflakes landed silently on his dark hair and her eyelashes.
"You okay?" Ethan murmured, voice low.
Bella nodded, unable to speak.
She realized how close they stood — so close she could feel the warmth rising from his skin.
Ethan's brows drew together, as if he were fighting something inside himself — a thought, a feeling, a memory.
He let go of her slowly. "You should head down," he said, but his voice was gentler now. "I don't want you getting hurt."
Bella swallowed. "Okay."
She climbed down carefully, her heart thumping harder than it should.
Ethan remained on the roof, clearing the remaining snow alone. When he finally climbed down, she handed him a warm towel.
"You scared me," Ethan said suddenly.
Bella blinked. "Me?"
"You slipping." He inhaled, steadying himself. "I—just be careful. Please."
Bella met his eyes.
For the first time since they'd met, she realized Ethan wasn't cold. He wasn't distant. He wasn't heartless.
He was scared of losing something.
Someone.
Maybe more than once.
And the moment he pulled her close on that roof…
something had cracked open inside both of them.
⸻
Later that night, the three of them sat around the fireplace sipping cocoa, Lily half-asleep with her head in Bella's lap. Ethan sat across from them, his gaze softening each time Lily sighed or snuggled closer.
"She likes you," he said quietly.
Bella stroked Lily's hair. "I like her too."
Ethan nodded. "That's rare. She doesn't get close to people easily."
Bella glanced up at him. "Neither do you, I think."
A long silence.
Then—
"You're right," Ethan admitted. "I don't."
Bella's chest tightened. "I'm not trying to intrude."
"You're not." His eyes met hers—warm, conflicted, unguarded. "I just… didn't expect…" He exhaled, searching for words he wasn't used to sharing. "Didn't expect company to feel this… easy."
Bella felt her heartbeat stutter.
Outside, the storm eased into a gentle snowfall.
Inside, something unspoken settled between them—warm, fragile, and undeniable.
Something neither of them wanted to name.
Not yet.
But both of them felt it.
And both knew…
This was only the beginning.