Chapter Four
LEVI
The sun wasn’t even fully up when I rolled off the couch, shoulders stiff from another night on those lumpy cushions. I ran a hand through my hair, listening to the quiet house. A faint hiss came from the radiator, and the smell of brewed coffee teased my nose. Mindy must already be awake.
Stretching, I ambled into the kitchen. Sure enough, Mindy stood there, hair in a loose ponytail, pouring coffee into a ceramic mug. She wore comfy sweats and a light hoodie, clearly still in morning mode. She glanced up with a half-smile.
“Morning,” she said, voice hushed.
“Hope the couch didn’t kill your back this time.”
I tried to shrug off the ache. “I’m surviving. You’re up early.”
She exhaled lightly. “Busy day ahead. The twins’ second day of school, plus I want to check in on that Visitors Bureau lead, maybe email Beth again. The board meeting’s tomorrow.” She eyed me a moment. “You?”
“I’ll swing by Skyline for a couple hours, but I’m taking the afternoon off,” I replied, yawning. “Figured I’d help you if you need rides or errands. Plus, I want to get the kids to the lake after school…show them the ice before it thaws for spring.”
Mindy’s face lit with a small grin. “They’ll love that.” Then she glanced at the microwave clock. “We should probably wake them soon.”
I nodded, accepting the mug of coffee she handed me. “Thanks. I’ll do the honors.”
Despite the second-day nerves being lower, Connor and Cody still bickered about who got the bathroom first and which sweatshirt was less itchy. Mindy refereed calmly, while I slid a plate of toast onto the table along with butter and tub of cream cheese.
“I found a jar of raspberry jam if you want to jazz it up,” I said.
“Yesss,” Connor said, eyes lighting up. Cody shrugged in agreement. They each grabbed slices of toast and reached for the jam at the same time. I tried not to laugh—eight-year-old boys could treat anything with sugar like gold dust.
Mindy set glasses of OJ in front of them, then took a seat, sipping her own coffee. “You two ready for day two at school?”
Cody nodded, munching on his toast. “Yeah, I want to check out the library after school with Logan to see if I can find those comic books he was talking about.”
Connor smirked. “I just wish we didn’t have to memorize facts for a history quiz on Friday.”
I shot him a grin. “Memory work flexes your brain’s muscles,” I said with a wink.
He shrugged, trying to act cool, but I could see the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “I guess.”
Mindy, meanwhile, gave me a thumbs up before popping the last bite of her toast into her mouth. I found myself staring at the crumbs on her soft lips thinking how good it might taste to kiss them off before hastily downing the remainder of my OJ.
Soon enough, it was time to head out. The kids bundled into their coats, and we piled into her SUV again. I followed in my pickup, same routine as yesterday. The roads were clearer this morning, no fresh snowfall, but the air was still crisp—definitely still March in the mountains.
At Hope Peak Elementary, Connor and Cody hopped out, exchanging quick “bye, Mom” and “see you later, Levi.” Mindy straightened their collars, offering them supportive smiles before they hurried inside.
Standing beside me, she exhaled. “Day two. Feels easier already.”
I nodded. “You want to meet for lunch again or do your own thing?”
She considered. “Actually, maybe I’ll just text you if I finish everything early. I want to rewrite my pitch for the board meeting tomorrow. I might hunker down at your kitchen table, if that’s okay.”
“Of course,” I said, amused. “Make yourself at home.”
She offered a grateful little wave, heading back to the SUV. “Thanks for everything.”
I watched her drive away, an unfamiliar warmth lingering in my chest. Then I shook it off, climbing into my pickup and turning toward Skyline.
Around nine, I strode into my bar, the neon sign half-lit even in the daylight. Rachel was already behind the counter, checking stock. A couple of locals nursed coffees at the bar.
“Boss,” Rachel greeted, glancing up from her list. “Quiet morning so far. You going to stick around for lunch or cut out early again?”
I chuckled. “Depends on how the next couple hours go. Mindy’s working on some job pitch. I told her I’d be free if she needs anything.”
Rachel smirked, raising a pierced eyebrow. “Still playing house, huh?”
“Cut it out,” I grumbled, though my tone was more sheepish than angry. “They’re my guests for now.”
“Uh-huh.” She flipped her iPad around for me to see. “Anyway, no big orders due today, but we have new kegs arriving tomorrow. Just sign off here, and I’ll handle the rest.”
I scanned the iPad, double-checking the inventory. “Looks good. Thanks, Rachel.”
As she walked off to handle some side tasks, I tried to focus on actual bar work: verifying beer lines, restocking small wares. But my mind drifted to Mindy’s easy grin, the boys’ chatter about the upcoming carnival, the tension that used to linger in my house replaced by laughter. It wasn’t a bad feeling—just disorienting. Tessa’s “genius plan” was definitely not how I ever pictured finding a family under my roof, but yet here we were.
By noon, the bar had a mild lunchtime crowd. I left Rachel in charge, letting her know I might return if needed. She gave me a playful salute, mouthing “Have fun, Daddio!” I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fully suppress a smile.
On a whim, I picked up a few groceries at the local store—some fresh fruit, bread, milk, cheese, a couple of sweet treats and chips for the kids. I hadn’t realized how much food a pair of growing boys ate.
Back home, I found Mindy at the small dining table, laptop open, scribbling notes on a legal pad. She jumped slightly when I walked in.
“Hey,” she greeted, standing to help me with the bags. “You’re back earlier than I thought.”
I shrugged. “Rachel can handle the lunch crowd. Figured I’d see if you needed anything.” I hoisted the groceries onto the counter. “Also, I come bearing fresh fortifications.”
Her eyes crinkled with amusement. “Fantastic. Thanks.”
She helped me put things away, pausing only to show me her notes. “Beth said the board meeting is tomorrow at three. I have to refine my pitch…like how to attract more spring visitors, highlight the upcoming carnival, maybe partner with local businesses. I’m a bit out of practice with face-to-face presentations, though.”
“You’ll do great.” I glanced at her bullet points. “At Skyline, we often do cross-promotions with the carnival folks. Everyone loves funnel cake and beer.”
She laughed. “Funnel cake and beer. That’s… different. But maybe an angle. Thanks.”
We chatted while stowing the groceries, an easy camaraderie filling the small kitchen. When we finished, Mindy made us quick sandwiches for lunch—turkey and cheese, and I found I liked the simplicity. She seemed more relaxed than yesterday.
Around two-thirty, Mindy started gathering her laptop and notes. “I’ll need to pick up the twins soon. If you’re free, want to come?”
“Of course,” I replied. “But I have an idea. Since the lake’s still frozen, we could head there after we grab them…let them burn off some energy. Then maybe hot chocolate?”
Mindy’s face lit up. “They’d be thrilled. But I’m afraid we don’t own skates.”
“There’s a small rental shack near the lake,” I assured her.
She nodded, smiling. “Sounds great.”
We left in my pickup this time, swinging by the elementary school just as kids poured out. Connor and Cody rushed over, excitement in their eyes.
“Mom! Levi!” Cody shouted. “I got an A on my first math assignment!”
Connor added, “And Ms. Brewster said I’m reading at next year’s level!”
Mindy beamed with pride. “That’s awesome. Also, we have a surprise: we’re going ice skating…If you want.”
They both erupted in whoops, clambering into the back seat. I exchanged a grin with Mindy, thoroughly amused at how quickly these kids adapted.
A short drive later, we reached the small lake on the outskirts of town. Despite being mid-March, the lake remained frozen enough for cautious skating, a handful of families braving the chilly breeze. A small wooden shack sold cocoa, rental skates, and hand warmers.
Cody tugged at Mindy’s arm. “Can we skate right away?”
“Yes, but first we get skates,” Mindy laughed. “We can’t skate in sneakers.”
We approached the shack, renting a couple pairs of kids’ skates. Mindy eyed me skeptically. “You’re not skating?”
I smirked. “I might. Don’t want to show off my pro moves too early.” Truth was, I’d skated a few times as a kid, but I wasn’t exactly graceful.
Connor snorted. “Show off, huh?”
Mindy’s eyes danced with humor as she laced up her skates. I took a pair too, determined not to be outdone by an eight-year-old. Soon, the four of us stepped onto the ice—well, I half-stepped, half-wobbled. The kids giggled at my clumsy start. Mindy glided cautiously, arms out for balance.
“It’s been years,” she admitted with a nervous laugh. “But let’s see if I remember.”
The kids braved it first, each clinging to a plastic support bar the rental shack provided. Before long, Cody let go, arms spread like a little daredevil, while Connor cruised behind him, still hugging the bar. I stuck close to Mindy, trying not to topple.
“You okay?” I asked, noticing how she bit her lip, focusing on each glide.
“Yeah,” she said, cheeks pink from the cold and auburn hair streaming from her face. “It’s actually… kind of fun.”
We inched along, occasionally glancing at the twins who ventured farther. A couple of local kids recognized them from school, squealing in delight when they realized they were new to town. Connor’s face lit, warming me with pride. Mindy caught me staring at him and gave me a soft smile.
After twenty minutes, we took a break near the bank, the kids bounding up with rosy cheeks.
“Mom, Levi, can I try going faster?” Cody asked breathlessly. “Logan said there’s a race or something soon, but I said we’re new.”
Connor shook his head. “Dude, you just got out here.”
Mindy laughed, ruffling Cody’s hair. “Slow down, speed racer. Let’s not break anything on day two of school.”
He rolled his eyes but grinned. They rushed off again, brimming with energy. Mindy exhaled, removing her skates to rub her ankles. I eased down next to her, careful not to slip on the icy ground.
“Worth it?” I teased.
She nodded, smiling at the kids. “Absolutely. Thank you.”
A quiet moment fell. Crisp March air brushed our cheeks. The lake glimmered under weak afternoon sunlight. Something in the hush brought a fleeting urge to reach for her hand. I ignored it, focusing on the twins instead.
Eventually, the cold got to us. We returned the skates, the kids practically buzzing with stories of near-collisions and wobbly glides. Mindy insisted on treating them to hot cocoa from the little concession window, so we stood there sipping chocolatey warmth, letting the last of our nerves thaw.
“This is awesome,” Cody mumbled through whipped cream. Connor nodded, wearing a big grin.
Mindy flicked her gaze my way. “I think you just became their hero, Levi.”
I scratched my chin, self-conscious. “Glad they enjoyed it.”
Under that soft compliment, a part of me stirred, appreciating how easily Mindy praised me. No one had made me feel this needed in a long time.
By the time we returned to the house, the boys were worn out. They dropped onto the pullout couch, half-finishing homework while Mindy supervised. I rummaged for a box of cereal with a picture of a cartoon frog on it I’d bought earlier, offering them each a small bowl as a snack. Cody’s eyes lit up.
“Frog cereal? That’s so cool. Thanks!” he exclaimed, munching away happily.
Connor teased, “We don’t even know what flavor it is,” but he still ate with gusto.
Mindy set down her laptop, smiling as she watched them devour the cereal. Then she turned to me. “I was thinking of making grilled cheese tonight. Simple, but I can jazz it up with tomato soup if you want.”
“Sounds perfect,” I said, already enjoying the mental image of another cozy meal. “I’ll help with the soup.”
She nodded, and we got to work in the small kitchen, a comfortable routine forming. The kids piped in with random comments from the couch—something about their classes, something about carnival tokens, something about their new friend Logan. The chatter never stopped, but I found I liked the background noise.
After dinner, the boys retreated to the bathroom to wash up for bed. Mindy and I lingered at the dining table, sipping water and relishing the calm. The overhead light cast a soft glow, highlighting the tired relief in her eyes.
“Thanks for the ice-skating suggestion,” she murmured. “They had a blast. And I did, too, as a matter of fact.”
I chuckled ruefully. “Didn’t realize how out of shape I am.”
She laughed, a gentle sound that sent warmth through me. “You did great, considering all your talk of not showing off.”
Rolling my eyes, I stifled a grin. “I’d prefer not to break my tailbone.”
A brief silence settled, not awkward, just reflective. Eventually, Mindy exhaled. “So tomorrow’s Wednesday—the board meeting with Beth is at three. I hope the kids don’t mind staying at afterschool program for a bit while I pitch my marketing ideas.”
“I can pick them up,” I offered. “Or they can hang with me at Skyline if that’s easier. We have an office with a couch and a stash of soda, but they might not get homework done,” I teased.
Mindy’s eyes brightened. “They’d love that, actually. But maybe for a short time. Let me see how the afterschool schedule works first.”
“Sure. Whatever you need,” I said, meaning it. The thought of Connor and Cody running around Skyline was oddly pleasing. Maybe they could do some quiet reading in the back office or amuse themselves with the old arcade machine we kept in the back.
Mindy disappeared to tuck the boys in, while I tidied the remains of dinner, humming to myself. When she returned, she cast me a thoughtful glance.
“They said to tell you thanks again for the lake trip,” she relayed softly. “And that they’re excited for more mountain adventures. So, you’re basically stuck with us.”
My chest tightened in a pleasant way. “Happy to be stuck.”
Her cheeks tinted pink, but she gave a small smile. “Good night, Levi.”
“Night, Mindy.” I stood there for a beat as she slipped down the hallway, once again taking refuge in my bedroom. Or hers, for now. The couch loomed behind me, a nightly reminder of this makeshift arrangement. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
Flipping off the kitchen light, I settled onto the couch, pulling a spare quilt over me. The day replayed in my mind—a swirl of kids’ laughter, Mindy’s shy smiles, the easy routine of making dinner together. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if Tessa had known exactly what she was doing by orchestrating this fiasco. Then I shook my head, smirking. My sister had definitely gone too far, but maybe it was paying off in ways I’d never have expected.
With a final, content sigh, I closed my eyes, letting the quiet house lull me to sleep. Tomorrow was another day in this new and unexpected life, and I couldn’t deny the growing excitement within me to see where it led.