Winter Baby Bump & Grind (Seasons in Montana: Winter)

1. Melissa

one

Melissa

“ C ’mon, girl. Don’t give up on me now.” I glance down at the lit gas gauge symbol on my dashboard with the indicator pointing ominously at empty. “We’re nearly there. Just a few more miles. You can do it.”

My ancient rattler of a car presses on as I whisper prayers under my breath and strain to see through the swirling snow. If I make—no, when I make it to town—I’m going to treat myself to a nice, long, hot soak in my shiny new whirlpool tub.

The one that I paid a pretty penny to secure in a central location—sight unseen and at the very last minute!—located just blocks away from the town’s main shopping street.

There’s only five miles between me and that tub.

Between me and a whole new life, really.

One where I’m free from the scrutiny of my well-meaning but overbearing family, and out from under the shadow of all their towering accomplishments. Every mile I put between me and Colorado has eased the tension in my shoulders, the weight I’ve carried on my back to try to live up to my family’s greatness.

All their talent, skill, and brain power are easily documented, evidenced by the framed awards lining the halls of my parents’ house. But few, if any, bear my name. How could they when I’m not a renowned professor like my dad, a doctor like my mom, or a soon-to-be surgeon like my brother? Hell, I’m not notable or distinguished or learned in any way apart from the long string of abandoned hobbies and half-formulated plots for what I’ll do next.

Whatever magic, extraordinary gene everyone else in my family got skipped me.

Sometimes, I wonder if whatever talent was meant for me got used up before I came along. Maybe that’s why I found it so hard to stick to anything for too long. Why my family finds me flaky and directionless, a little loveable bundle of chaos.

I've made my peace with that, but my immediate family sure hasn’t. So, all I want is to not always be seen as the family screw up, the one dud in the Santos bunch.

That’s why I’m here. Driving in the dark, through the snow, with my tiny little Mazda filled to the brim with all my earthly possessions.

I’m going to prove to everyone that I’m a capable, independent, grown-ass woman. Even if my track record doesn’t do me any favors.

Grades? Middling.

College? Dropped out after my junior year.

Career? Not exactly landed on one just yet.

But I’m one hundred percent convinced that all the answers to my problems lie in the only place I've felt as if I belonged.

That’s here, in the small, picturesque town of Wintervale, Montana.

It’s home.

Or at least, it’s the place that’s always felt like home to me.

I can hardly wait to get settled and gain clarity on my life’s direction in the clean, fresh mountain air, surrounded by the breathtaking natural beauty that draws crowds by the thousands to this resort town every year. But best of all, I’m going to do it alongside the kickass women I bonded with during my time at Montana State University, Starlight Springs as a Xi Chi Upsilon sister.

When my sorority “Big Sis” Kelsey Greer called and told our little girl gang she’s finally been handed the keys to castle—that is, she’s taken over as owner of the Brewbirds Coffeehouse from her parents—we all knew right away that we wanted to be part of it. Just like in college, wherever Kelsey led, the rest of us would happily follow.

Luckily, Kelsey loved the idea of us all back together, and we each have our own reasons for signing up. Together, me, Kelsey, Sloane Fisher, and Danielle Fan are going to give Wintervale a bustling hubbub centered on three pillars—Caffeine, Community, and Creativity.

Three things I enjoy and may even excel in, considering all my school reports consistently praised my ability to chat my little heart out.

A gust of snow flurries blows across my window just as I pass the Welcome to Wintervale sign, and a surge of pride has me sitting up straighter. I made it.

All this way and on my own.

And I only got lost twice.

“Well done, old girl. You got us here,” I praise my car even as I offer up a quick prayer of thanks to the Powers That Be. “Just in the nick of time, too…”

But no, I’m wrong.

My trusty Mazda slows, then sputters. My gaze dips to my dashboard, to the lit-up yellow gas tank symbol. How long has that been on?

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no.” I ease my foot off the accelerator and try to let inertia carry me to the gas station across the road. “We’re so close. So close.”

But it’s not enough. My car gives up the ghost before I can cross the finish line and rolls to a stop just in front of the station.

The closed gas station, that is.

Right.

“Okay, well, now I know to fill up in Starlight Springs next time I make the drive, huh? Lesson learned.” I keep my smile on and my voice bright.

Now that I'm here, nothing will put a damper on my spirits. My new life is only—I pull out my phone and open my navigation app—half a mile away.

Peering out of the window, I wrap my thickest winter scarf around my neck, shimmy into my winter coat, and prepare myself to greet my new life with a fresh, can-do attitude.

An hour later, my can-do attitude has frozen over.

Everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong and now my cheeks sting with the cold. Under all my layers of clothing, I’ve broken out in a sweat hauling my over-packed luggage the half mile to where my new apartment and its shiny, new tub were supposed to be waiting.

I say supposed to be because the apartment I wire transferred money over to secure… well, it doesn't seem to exist, and every contingency plan I’ve come up with hasn’t panned out.

My first thought was to have an emergency one-night stay at the Evergreen Inn. But unfortunately, I arrived during one of the busiest times of the year, when holidaymakers flood into the town to take advantage of the real-life winter wonderland that Wintervale becomes every year. They had no vacancies.

That’s fine, though, because I figured I could call one of my friends and couch surf for a night.

Except when I pasted a smile over my gritted, chattering teeth and called Kelsey, my phone died before I could even ask her.

My new life might be off to an inauspicious start, but right now, it’d be a win if I manage not to freeze death on my first night of freedom. I could just imagine what my family would say about me then…

Typical Melissa. Too busy trying to follow directions and too lost in thought to notice that my battery had dwindled so low. Another detail I should’ve clocked but didn’t.

I can almost hear the long-suffering sighs of my brother and dad from here, and the clicking of my mother’s tongue accompanied by a muttered Susmaryosep.

It’s enough to make me grind my teeth against the freezing temperatures and square my shoulders.

Fuck it.

I didn’t come all this way to be defeated at the first obstacle. There’s nothing to do but trudge onward. Find another solution. When there’s a will, there’s a way… or whatever it is people say.

Where else can I go? I lift my gaze toward the town’s center, where Christmas lights are strung up in warm welcome. Beyond it lies the mountain resort, but I won’t make it there on foot, dragging my enormous luggage behind me.

So instead, I stride toward Main Street, my steps determined, and my chin held high. If there’s one place in this town that’s still open, it’ll be the Range Bar and Grill. And after the way things have gone so spectacularly wrong, it’s at least somewhere I can get a warm drink and use the phone to call one of my sorority sisters for help.

The second I see the garlanded window of the bar come into view, with its fogged-up glass and the throng of warm bodies milling about inside, my feet quicken. I’m practically running toward the muffled sound of honky tonk music emitting from the Range as I step into the road and hurry across.

But before I can get there, my feet find a patch of ice. In a second, my legs fly out from under me. I cling to my luggage handle to steady myself but only succeed in yanking it down with me.

The second we hit the ground, my case springs open and vomits my belongings into the air. I wince and catch a glimpse of my brightly colored undergarments dancing in the wind. Panties and bras in every color of the rainbow scatter around me, and one of my lace thongs falls squarely on my chest.

Shock races through me as the impact of hitting the ground radiates from my ass, and the damp seeps into my jeans.

For a second, I just lay there. Motionless. Mind racing as my gloved fingers curl around the lace.

Maybe everyone’s right. Maybe it was a mistake to think I could do this—move to another state and find my own way. I tried once in college and look at what happened then. What’s changed?

My throat closes up and hot tears prick the back of my eyes. It’d be easy to give up. Too easy.

But I’m not willing to give up yet.

I drag a deep breath of ice-chilled air into my lungs and remind myself that I might’ve fallen, but all I need to do is get back up again. I’m not the same scared twenty-year-old girl I’d been, who couldn’t figure out what path she wanted to take. Now that I’m older, wiser, and have some life experiences under my belt, I’m more equipped to see things through.

Besides, there’s no way this night can get any worse.

But as soon as I think it, I hear the door of the bar swing open and the unmistakable voices of well-lubricated bar goers singing along to a song about saving horses peals out of the bar.

I jackknife upright, stashing whatever I can of my lacy undergarments back into the splayed luggage bag. Behind me, there’s the telltale sound of boots crunching on snow. I hope they’ll ignore me, the crazy woman scrambling around on all fours, snatching at scraps of fabric littered across the snow-covered ground.

The boots shuffle closer. Pause. Then, a voice cuts into the silence.

Low, gruff, and intimately familiar to me.

“Don’t forget to pack this up. Wouldn’t want it in the wrong hands.”

Oh god…

I turn, cheeks flaming as my gaze tracks up from the large eggplant vibrator Ryan Yamamoto holds between us, extended like an offering. A glob of snow slides indecently from its bulbous tip, and I jerk my face up to his.

At the sight of his devastatingly handsome face, my pulse races, and my body heats. His strong jawline, rough with dark stubble, frames a face that’s grown more chiseled over the years. His firm, shapely lips press together in a tight line that wobbles ever so slightly in one corner.

It’s the wobble that gets me.

I lift my gaze to his, and when his amber-colored eyes sear into mine, electricity sparks. Warmth sizzles through me, winding through my veins as I marvel at the way his eyes crinkle with barely concealed mirth.

“Ryan,” I breathe and take hold of the toy, but he doesn’t release it. With a coy smile, I hold his gaze steady. “You should know better than anyone that hands alone don’t do it for me.”