Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Teresa
I ’d never seen that many people in Cozy Creek. In my youth, the sled contest had been a small event with a handful of dedicated spectators drinking lukewarm cider and freezing their toes off, waiting to witness one entertaining crash.
The waiting was still very much part of the deal, but the organizers had bagged some major sponsors. Large logos decorated the gazebos set up to serve not just hot drinks but hotdogs and pizza rolls. With a stage built of pallets and “Eye of the Tiger” blasting from wardrobe-sized loudspeakers, there was now a sports event vibe. Progress, I guess.
Trevor grabbed my hand. “There!” He pointed to the top of the hill, where our purple cardboard car stood by a flagpole.
I spotted Charlie and Bess next to it, waving madly. I waved back with a purple mitten. They’d gone ahead of us, transporting the sled, which took up the backseat of Charlie’s car.
We’d taken a detour via Trevor’s car, where I’d finally been reunited with my phone and wallet, as well as kitted from head to toe with Trevor’s knitting efforts. He’d been underselling his progress and had revealed an entire bag of socks, wool hats, and mittens.
I wasn’t hugely surprised. He’d been not smoking for months and had evidently replaced one addiction with another. I’d seen the relief in his eyes when he’d grabbed the needles and yarn from the car, shoving them into his backpack.
It was a bit weird, but I wasn’t complaining. It was cold as a corpse’s balls, so we’d divvied up his knitted items to ensure our collective survival. I was currently sporting purple mittens, a deep blue hat and the purple scarf that still had the needles attached to it. Trevor had wrapped some yarn around the ends to keep it together, but I held it in place with one hand, worried that the whole thing would snag on something and unravel.
I was out of the elf costume, feeling far more human in a fresh pair of underwear I’d borrowed from Bess, but it seemed looking even borderline normal in Cozy Creek was not an option for me.
“Teresa!”
I turned and found Peony smiling on the side of the slope, holding a thermos and a giant tote bag.
“Hi!”
I told Trevor I’d catch up with him and stepped off the path to talk to my old friend. “I just got my phone back!” I picked it out of my purse, waving it around for emphasis. “Now I can call you.”
“Wonderful!” Her smile was so warm it was like going back in time.
I wondered if we could go back far enough to not remember any of the crap that had come between us. I missed her. She was a friend from an era where friendship meant something. Sleepovers. Confessions. Round-the-clock emotional support. Everything I had in Denver felt mild and lame in comparison. We’d been so close, always physically together. My emotional support was mostly remote these days—text messages and phone calls.
I looked around. “Remember when this event was just three families and a handful of cardboard boxes?”
She laughed. “It’s grown quite a bit. And I heard we have a record number of tourists this year.”
“Because of the ski resort?”
“Yeah. And Cozy Creek’s been in the news. You know that missing skier?”
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard something.”
“She’s been missing for a few days now, and we’ve had all these volunteers running around the mountain.”
“It sounds like a morbid form of tourism.”
“That’s what I said!” Peony’s eyes widened. “But I swear some people draw sick enjoyment from that. Trekking around the forest, looking for human remains.”
“And then what? Brunch in town and a spa treatment?”
“Yeah, probably!” She held onto my arm, giggling.
“They’re not suspecting anything… sinister, are they? I mean, people get lost in the mountains all the time.”
“It’s a bit of a weird case. She vanished from the cabin she was staying at with her boyfriend, and he swears he’s innocent, of course.”
“So, she wasn’t skiing or hiking or…?”
“No. I think they were meant to go, but she wasn’t even fully dressed yet. She just popped outside to take a picture and never came back.”
“What? That’s bizarre!”
“Yeah. That’s why it’s getting so much publicity, I think. It’s like this mystery every Sherlock out there wants to solve.”
“Wow. That sounds crazy. I should look that up.”
“You should! Just don’t get freaked out.” She lifted her Thermos. “Sorry! Where are my manners? Would you like some coffee?”
“I’m fine. We just had coffees.”
She nodded, dropping the Thermos into her bag, and pulled out a packet of cookies. She was dressed sensibly in a puffer jacket and ski pants, ready to spend the day outside. I took a cookie, fighting the welling emotion that threatened to close my throat. She’d been the one baking and feeding me, looking after everyone. She was the one who always understood and never made a fuss, even when she should have.
“I… I’m sorry I didn’t call back then. I’m sorry I just left.”
It felt like an overdue apology, given at the wrong time, in the wrong place. But she still deserved to hear it.
Peony’s smile had a sad tint, but she nodded. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too.”
I knew what she meant. We’d both run away in our own ways, desperate to leave it all behind. And that had meant running away from each other.
I glanced up and saw Trevor on top of the hill, gesturing at me. The race was about to start.
“I have to go,” I said.
“We’ll talk soon.” She put away the cookies to free up her arms.
I gave her a quick hug and climbed up the hill, slipping and sliding in my felt slippers, stuffed nice and warm with purple wool socks, courtesy of Trevor.
As I got closer, I counted at least six different cardboard sleds lined up on the peak. Behind them, another dozen, including our Tyrian-shaded beauty, waited in the wings.
“We’re in the second heat,” Bess announced. “After these guys.” She gestured at the creative selection.
Three local firemen stood around a cardboard-made firetruck with ‘Cozy Creek Fire Brigade’ hand-painted on its side. There was also a sled shaped like an oil drum, a cardboard hamburger, a cardboard house and one that looked like a heart-shaped chocolate box.
“How’s that going to work?” Trevor pointed at the house. “The center of gravity is at the top.”
“It’ll crash gloriously,” I told him. “That’s the whole point.”
Charlie frowned. “I thought the point was to reach those hay bales down there and do it in record time. The race marshal just explained the rules. They checked our sled and said it’s fine.”
“Fine just means we didn’t use any forbidden materials. But we built this thing yesterday,” I reminded him. “If it holds together all the way down, that’s pretty good.”
“And if it doesn’t…?” Bess wondered as we watched the first contestants getting into their sleds, their team members poised to give them a push.
I didn’t have to answer. The loudspeaker crackled as the marshal counted down from three and the sleds launched down the slope. The tall house sled demonstrated the concept of crashing by toppling over and splitting into pieces. A teenager in well-padded overalls tumbled out and rolled down the slope, landing on top of a rogue cardboard piece. He got up and pumped his fist in the air before limping towards the side fence.
Moments later, the hamburger met its fate, bumping into another sled and splitting open. The child and adult inside it kept sliding until the sled came to a stop. Only the firetruck made it all the way to the hay bales with two guys onboard.
“I’m starting to understand why they recommended helmets,” Bess mused. “Too bad we don’t have any.”
“Congratulations, Cozy Creek Fire Brigade!” The voice in the loudspeaker blasted. “You go onto round two! And now it’s time for the second heat. Contestants, please line up.”
I helped the others to push our sled to the starting line. We were up against two groups of kids with colorful, decorated boxes, one with a tail made of empty toilet rolls, the other with an incredible cardboard airplane. There was another sled shaped like a sprawling house that made me think of an architectural model.
“Please note that the house on the left is by our sponsor Neville Architects and is not part of the official competition. They are here to… actually, I’ll hand over the microphone so they can say a few words…”
I froze. Neville Architects. Julian’s dad’s company.
The mic rattled and then a vaguely familiar voice came on, laughing self-deprecatingly as he spoke. “Hi! I’m Julian Neville and we’re so proud to sponsor this event. The models we build in the office are usually smaller, and we don’t use as much duct tape…”—someone laughed in the background—“but it’s been a fun side project.”
He went on about what an incredible community event this was. With every word, my stomach wound itself into a tighter knot. Of all the ways I’d imagined running into him and his family, this was not one I could have ever pictured: sliding downhill in a cardboard box and potentially crashing right in front of them. Best-case scenario, I’d puncture my lungs with the knitting needles hanging off my scarf and quickly lose consciousness.
“Where’s the race marshal?” I asked. In other words, where was Julian?
“I think they’re at that gazebo, by the stage.” Charlie gestured down the slope.
Right by the finish line. Of course.
“Are you sure you don’t want to ride?” I asked Bess, who lifted an eyebrow.
“Well, I’m not supposed to go on rollercoasters or have hot baths. I’d rather play it safe.”
Charlie gave me a questioning look. “You said you were happy to.”
“Are you okay?” Trevor leaned in to talk straight into my ear, over the noise around us. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I’m fine. I just… I know that guy.” I glanced at the loudspeakers, where Julian’s self-important speech went on and on.
“The architect who loves his own voice?”
I nodded.
“And I suppose you have a history?”
He’d probably find out soon enough. All my dirty secrets were about to be exposed. I wanted to tell him. I wanted him to hear it from me. The whole story, with context. But there was no time. My insides churned, and I grabbed his hand, my eyes stinging. “I set his car on fire. And burned a bit of the school building.”
“What?”
“It’s… a long story. I didn’t mean to burn the building.”
“Please prepare for take-off!” Julian bellowed.
“They’re not rocket ships,” Charlie muttered, herding us into the sled.
I lowered myself into position at the front of it, holding onto the flabby sides.
“We can talk later,” Trevor whispered into my ear as he sat behind me, extending his legs on either side of me.
I had to sit against him, feeling the confusing warmth of his body and those strong arms tightening around me. I removed the scarf, tucking it inside the sled, away from our bodies. I couldn’t let myself be impaled before I explained myself. Trevor needed the whole story.
The countdown blasted through the sound system and Charlie got ready to push us.
Three—two—one—we were off. The cold breeze hit my face, my eyes watering so much I struggled to see ahead. But it didn’t matter. There was no way to steer this thing. All we could do was to hold on, hoping it held together through the steepest part of the slope, over the two slight bumps.
The first one sent us airborne and delivered a painful landing that might have bruised my tailbone. The second one was much lower, almost at the finish line. For a second, I thought we might avoid it, but no. Our sled veered straight to the highest part of the bump.
This time, I didn’t notice any lift-off, only the pain in my already bruised bottom. And suddenly, there was no sled. The sides of it were torn off by the impact, pieces of cardboard scattering in the wind as we continued riding down on the bottom piece, then slid off it, rolling down and finally hitting the first hay bale.
Somehow, the unfinished scarf landed on top of me, the knitting needles grazing my cheek, as if to remind me of my mortality.
“Are you okay?” Trevor hoisted me upright, untangling the scarf.
I stood, tentatively stretching my arms and legs. My ass was sore, but nothing seemed broken. I straightened my back to look ahead, and that was when I saw him.
Julian.
He was as strapping as he’d ever been. The quarterback. The hottest guy in high school. In Hollywood justice, he would have turned into the washed-out loser who never moved out of his hometown, but no. Julian might have left, but now he was back—the hottest architect in town. He was surrounded by a group of older, well-dressed men, one of whom I recognized as his father.
He took one look at me, and his face fell. “Teresa?”
“Hi, Julian.”
“Teresa Shaw?” His father echoed, his voice rising in alarm. “You have some nerve showing your face here.”
I was suddenly sixteen years old, cowering in a doorway as Julian’s father and the school principal shouted at me. The crazy girl who couldn’t be trusted, the one who was too dangerous and unpredictable. An absolute hazard. A liar.
I hadn’t been lying, though. I’d been telling inconvenient truths. No one believed me. I’d been too scared then, but I wasn’t scared now.
“I have every right to take part in town events,” I replied, my voice hoarse.
Julian’s smile was condescending. “I don’t think you do.” He cast a cursory glance at Trevor, then turned his icy blue gaze back at me. “I’m pretty sure you’re permanently banned from Cozy Creek, all things considered.”
I stared at him, stunned. “Banned? Are you the mayor now?”
Trevor appeared by my side, gently squeezing my hand. I appreciated his presence, but this was my fight. He had a house here. Associating with me wasn’t going to help him settle into this town. I took a step to my side to create distance between us.
“I didn’t think you’d even consider coming back,” Julian’s father said, stepping so close I had to raise my chin to look at him. “But if you do, we can make things difficult.”
Julian shifted closer too, lowering his voice. “We can make your life hell.”
“What’s happening here? Ye can’t ban someone from the town they grew up in,” Trevor said, reaching for my hand again. “Or any town, for that matter.”
I sidestepped his touch, my throat so tight I couldn’t swallow, let alone breathe. More people had gathered around us, drawn by the threatening tones and general commotion. Somewhere behind me, the sled contest went on, with the haybales shaking as another cardboard creation hit the barriers. People were everywhere, adding a layer of cacophony that made my brain hurt. I spotted Peony from the corner of my eye, looking like she’d turned into a pillar of salt. Next to her, the realtor stared at me with her mouth open. I recognized two other people from high school but couldn’t recall their names.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t face all of them and stand my ground. I couldn’t drag Trevor into this. I had to get away.
Tears blurring my eyes, I retreated through the crowd, bumping into random bystanders, and ran down the hill toward the parking lot, past Trevor’s car and down the road leading to town. I had no direction, only a burning desire to put as much distance between me and Julian as I could. The man who’d broken my heart and my trust. Was he the reason I couldn’t take the leap and fall in love? The reason I could never let go of my independence? I’d tried so hard not to think about him, because as soon as I did, I lost my new sense of self. I wobbled. I became weak and lost and powerless, and I hated it.
Coming back here had been a mistake. A huge mistake. A sharp pain in my lungs told me I was running too fast. I slowed to a jog until I reached the next intersection and leaned on a road sign to catch my breath and wipe my eyes.
“Teresa?”
I didn’t recognize the voice behind me, but as soon as I turned, I recognized a familiar face. He smiled at me through the rolled-down window of a shiny Tesla, dressed in a blue ski outfit, complete with goggles on his forehead.
“Yeah?” I stared at him, trying to connect a name to that face.
“It’s Kyle. We met at Gavin’s party,” he said, offering a gloveless hand through the window.
That’s right! The guy Trevor had dragged me away from at that party. I took off my snow-crusted mitten and shook it.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to smile just enough to not make it seem like an accusation.
My neck felt cold without Trevor’s scarf, and I pulled at the collar of my coat to shield myself.
“Just coming back from the sled competition. That was fun.”
“Is it over already?” I asked.
“Yeah. The fire department won.” He glanced around as if to check I was alone. “Are you… okay? Can I give you a ride somewhere?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I needed a walk.”
“One of those days?” He cast me a compassionate look.
I nodded. Even if he hadn’t heard the Nevilles banning me from the town, it was probably all over my face.
“You look like you could use a drink,” he said. “Maybe in a remote location overlooking the town. From a distance.”
I huffed. “How much distance?”
“Enough to make everyone look like ants, I promise.”
“So, you heard?” I cringed.
“I have no idea what those guys were harassing you about, but it didn’t look pleasant.”
“It was… old stuff.” I said evasively. “I grew up here.”
“Really? I’m just a seasonal resident. I’ve got a ski cabin up there, not far.” He gestured at the mountains rising behind me. “It’s not as big as Gavin’s but it has a nice view and a nice liquor cabinet.”
He smiled the same disarming smile I remembered from the party, moments before Trevor had dragged me away.
“I’m not looking for?—”
“No hidden agenda, I promise! You just look like you could use a moment to catch your breath. And it’s cold out here.”
It was freezing, and I missed Trevor’s scarf more every minute. I missed him, too, but that feeling was more complicated. He knew about my past now, at least the worst of it in bullet point format, and he’d heard the Nevilles. I wanted to tell my side of the story, but I wasn’t ready. I needed time.
“Okay,” I said, circling the car and collapsing into the passenger seat. “Take me away from here.”