A long while later, Summer Thorne slowly opened her eyes on horseback.
She was wrapped in a beige men's cashmere coat, and behind her was the warm, rising and falling chest of a man. A faint tremor ran across her skin, which had been stiff with cold for so long, as the warmth she had lost slowly returned.
'That was... his warmth.'
Summer Thorne leaned back quietly, not saying a word.
The horse's gait eventually slowed, and it came to a halt before a villa she had never seen before.
Timothy York dismounted, then turned and offered her his hand.
Summer Thorne, feeling the numbness still lingering in her legs, hesitated for a moment.
"Can't get down?" Timothy York asked.
Summer Thorne lowered her gaze. "Mm."
The single outstretched hand became two. Summer Thorne leaned forward slightly, and the man lifted her from the horse and carried her into the villa.
The villa's furnishings weren't new, but the space was spotless, clearly well-maintained.
"This place is..."
"The York Family's vacation villa." Timothy York set her down on the sofa. "It wouldn't be wise for you to return to the resort like this."
Summer Thorne nodded in agreement.
'It made sense. If anyone saw him bringing her back from outside in the dead of night, frozen stiff, what would they think?'
'A man as respectable as Timothy York shouldn't be troubled by such gossip.'
She rubbed her legs and spoke in a low voice, "I have to thank you again, Mr. York. It's a good thing you have this habit of riding in the middle of the night..."
Timothy York, sitting on the sofa opposite her, lifted his gaze at her words. His deep, dark eyes watched her intently.
It was as if he were trying to read something on her face.
From being out in the cold for so long, an unnatural flush colored Summer Thorne's pale face. Her expression, however, was surprisingly calm, showing none of the lingering fear one would expect after such a close call.
"What if I hadn't gone out tonight?" Timothy York asked.
"Then I suppose I was fated to freeze to death in the wilderness." She tilted her head and smiled, seemingly fearless. "When you all came up the mountain tomorrow, you would've been just in time to collect my body."
At her words, Timothy York's expression remained unchanged, but his eyes seemed to grow colder by a fraction.
The change was incredibly subtle, but Summer Thorne sensed it all the same.
'Then again, what she said was terribly ominous. Who would want to hear something like that?'
"Sorry, I was talking nonsense," Summer Thorne said.
Timothy York's quiet gaze settled on her. "Nonsense isn't what's frightening. What's frightening is when those words come true, and you're left wishing you could take them back."
'There was a lot to unpack in that statement.' Summer Thorne decided to feign ignorance.
After a moment of silence, Summer Thorne took the initiative to change the subject. "I'd like to take a hot shower. Would that be alright, Mr. York?"
He didn't seem to want to engage with her. After a long pause, he finally answered, "The rooms on the second floor all have bathrooms. Feel free to use one."
Hearing this, Summer Thorne pushed herself to her feet.
Her movements were stiff and slow. In the end, Timothy York stood up, walked over, and helped steady her.
"It's alright. I just need to move around a bit. I can make it up on my own," Summer Thorne said with a smile.
Timothy York glanced at her, then withdrew his hand.
Summer Thorne dragged her still-numb legs up the stairs.
She picked a room at random, turned on the shower, and let the hot water cascade over her.
Steam quickly filled the bathroom.
Summer Thorne slowly closed her eyes, tilting her head back to let the warm water rush over her face.
'Timothy York had saved her, but he hadn't asked a single question.'
'Why hadn't she returned to the resort? Why was she out in the snow alone? Why didn't she call for help...?'
'Anyone else would have peppered her with questions.'
'But he had none.'
'Was it because he didn't care, or... did he already know the answers?'
'As feeling gradually returned to her skin, the concept of a "narrow escape" finally felt tangible.'
'Most of the time, hope is an illusion; no matter how hard you struggle, you can't grasp it.'
'But other times, just a sliver—even the tiniest one—is enough to pull someone back from the brink...'
'Summer Thorne felt she had truly pulled through.'
...
After her shower, she found it was deep into the night. Without her phone, Summer Thorne couldn't even be sure of the time.
With nothing in the room to pass the time, she sat on the bed, hugged her knees, and counted her toes for fun.
After counting them over and over more times than she could remember, Summer Thorne finally got up and left the room.
In the small landing on the second floor, a wall clock showed it was already two in the morning.
'Summer Thorne recalled that at this time yesterday, Timothy York was probably still out riding his horse.'
'And now?'
'Had he gone out for another night ride, or had he already gone to bed?'
She glanced back at the other three rooms on the second floor, then turned and headed downstairs.
However, she stopped in her tracks halfway down the stairs.
'Timothy York wasn't on the second floor, nor had he gone out. He was... still sitting downstairs.'
He was sitting on the sofa with his eyes closed. The black cashmere sweater he wore perfectly outlined his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Even in sleep, his posture was upright and restrained, and his features held the same aloofness she was used to.
Summer Thorne stood on the stairs, watching him quietly for a moment. Then she turned, went back to the room, and came down again with the cashmere coat she had brought upstairs.
She tiptoed over to Timothy York. Just as she was carefully trying to drape the coat over him, he jolted awake and grabbed her hand before his eyes had even opened.
Summer Thorne flinched.
His palm was hot—abnormally so.
Summer Thorne reached out with her other hand and placed it on his forehead. "You're running a fever."
Fresh from her shower, she smelled of soap and shampoo, and worry was written plainly on her clean face.
Timothy York's gaze was deep and unreadable. He slowly released her hand. "Weren't you afraid of how it would look to get close to me?"
Summer Thorne faltered for a second.
Timothy York looked away, pulled her hand from his forehead, and stood. He took the coat from her, shrugging it on.
"You rest here. I'll arrange for someone to pick you up tomorrow."
Seeing that he was about to leave, Summer Thorne asked, "Where are you going?"
"Back to the resort."
With that, Timothy York turned to leave.
Summer Thorne snapped back to reality, rushing to block his path. She looked at him seriously. "You need to break your fever."
Timothy York met her gaze calmly.
Summer Thorne gripped his hand tightly. "You're running a fever, and you want to ride a horse back to the resort? It's freezing out there. If you collapse on the way, Mr. York, who will be to blame?"
Timothy York didn't answer.
Summer Thorne let go, retreated to the front door, and bolted it shut. "Last time, when I had a fever and fainted, you didn't just leave me on the side of the road. I can't let you leave this time, either."
At her mention of "last time," a flicker of emotion crossed Timothy York's eyes.
"There's only the two of us here, so we don't need to worry about how things look," Summer Thorne said. "Just consider this me repaying the favor."
Timothy York's brow twitched, as if he disliked that reason.
Summer Thorne pulled him back to the sofa and began looking around. "Since this is a vacation villa, there should be some basic medicine—"
"And if I said there isn't?" Timothy York said slowly. "How do you plan to bring down my fever?"