Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Bash
The Whitakers' home brims with laughter as we enter. Charlie holds the door open for us and then slips her hand into mine, squeezing gently as I step inside. I'm not sure if it's for show or something more, but I squeeze back anyway.
"Mom! Dad! Look who's here," Charlie calls out.
Margaret appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. Her face brightens when she spots all of us.
"Oh! You must be Sebastian's family! What a wonderful surprise!" She rushes forward, embracing my sister with the enthusiasm usually reserved for long-lost relatives.
Sarah looks momentarily startled but recovers quickly, returning the hug.
"It's lovely to meet you. Thank you for having us on such short notice."
"Mom this is Sarah and her daughter Addie." Charlie looks between everyone with a warm smile.
I fucking love that smile.
Richard emerges from his study, and offers a handshake to Sarah and a warm smile to Addie. "Any family of Sebastian's is welcome here. We've got plenty of room."
"Let me show you to your rooms," Margaret says, already leading them toward the stairs. "We have the Maple Room for Sarah and the Juniper Room for you, Addie—it has the most stunning view of the mountains."
I watch them disappear upstairs, a strange warmth spreading through me.
This easy acceptance, this immediate inclusion—it's foreign to me.
Growing up, our house was never the gathering place.
Dad traveled constantly, and Mom was always too concerned with appearances to make guests feel genuinely welcome.
"Hey." Charlie nudges me, pulling me from my thoughts. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just... your family is really something."
She smiles. "They can be overwhelming."
"In a good way."
Emily appears rounding a corner and visibly lights up. "So?" She thrusts her chin forward, eyes wide with anticipation. "How was the heli-skiing? Was it amazing? Was Charlie terrified? Please tell me you got a video of her screaming like a baby."
Charlie's eyes roll toward the ceiling. "I did not scream."
"Much," I add, which earns me a quick slap against my bicep.
"It was incredible," Charlie says, her fingers already dancing across her phone screen. "Look at these views."
She leans in closer to her father and sister, thumb swiping through photo after photo.
Her voice lifts higher with each new image, cheeks flushing slightly.
"The helicopter ride alone was worth it, but then we got to this completely untouched powder, and Bash was amazing—you should have seen him.
And Mack, our guide, was the absolute best."
"We're definitely doing it again next year," she adds, her gaze still fixed on the glowing screen.
My heart stumbles mid-beat. Next year? The words echo in my mind like a question without an answer. What will next year even bring? Will we actually be together by then, or will she expect me to maintain this elaborate performance for another family vacation?
My feelings are getting tangled. Does she want me—really want me? That kiss, even though it was a bet, she initiated it after our race and it made me feel like she wants more, but then she says things that remind me this is fake.
Addie comes bounding down the stairs, her camera still around her neck. "Uncle Bash, can you show me around outside? I want to get some shots before the light changes."
"Sure thing, squirt."
Charlie smiles. "I'll help your sister get settled."
Outside on the deck, Addie immediately starts framing shots of the mountains, the snow-laden trees, the golden afternoon light on the white landscape. I watch her work, impressed by her focus.
"You're getting really good at this, kid."
She shrugs but looks pleased. "I got into the advanced photography program at school."
"That's awesome." I say as we head for the stairs to take us down the open back yard.
"So," she says, adjusting her lens, "Charlie seems pretty cool."
I smile. "Yeah, she is."
"And pretty." She snaps a few shots of a pine branch heavy with snow. "Mom says you're weird when it comes to girls and introductions."
"Your mom talks too much."
"She's right though." Addie lowers her camera, fixing me with a direct look that reminds me so much of Sarah at her age. It's uncanny. "Is it serious? With Charlie?"
I hesitate. "Like I told your mom it's...complicated."
"That's what people say when they're afraid to admit how they feel."
I laugh. "When did you get so wise?"
"I listen to a lot of podcasts. You learn a lot about human psychology if you listen to the right ones."
"Not sure that's the best source."
She rolls her eyes. "Whatever. I can tell you really like her."
"Yeah," I admit. "I do."
"Mom's doing really good, by the way," she says, changing subjects with the abruptness of a teenager. "She loves her job, loves that I'm getting good grades, and she's even dating some banker named James."
"A banker? Really?"
"He's nice. Boring, but nice."
I laugh. "As long as he treats you both well."
The impact hit me like a sucker punch, icy crystals cascading down my collar and sending a shiver straight through my core. I spin around to find Charlie standing there, fingers already molding another snowball as her lips curved into a triumphant smile that lights up her entire face.
"You did not just do that," I growl, my voice dropping to that dangerous register that usually makes people back away slowly.
Not Charlie though. A mischievous glint flashes through her eyes, dancing with a wild challenge as she squares her shoulders.
"What are you gonna do about it, Montgomery?"
Something electric crackled between us across the snow-covered ground, and despite the ice melting against my skin, heat surges through my body.
"You better run, Shortcake."
She squeals—actually squeals—and bolts down the wooden deck stairs, her boots sinking and catching in the deep snow that swallows her ankles.
Her auburn hair streams behind her like a banner as she plunges through the snow, half-running, half-leaping.
I give her a generous three-second head start, counting deliberately in my head before launching after her, my longer legs devouring the distance between us.
"Snowball fight!" Addie's voice rings out behind me, followed by the crisp crunch of snow being packed. A cold mass smacks between my shoulder blades a heartbeat later.
Emily materializes from the house doorway as if summoned by the commotion, instantly flocking to Addie's side. "Girls against boys!" she shouts, her fingers already molding a snowball.
"That's not fair," I call out, twisting sideways as Emily's throw whooshes past my ear with surprising speed. "It's three against one!"
"Life's not fair, Bash!" Charlie's voice floats from ahead, where she vanishes behind the trunk of a pine tree.
What erupts next is pure winter warfare.
Snowballs fly in every direction, cutting white arcs through the crisp air.
I nail Emily square on the back of her head, making her scream with laughter, and clip Addie's arm with another shot that earns me wide eyes of theatrical betrayal.
But Charlie—Charlie moves like someone who's been lying about her athletic abilities.
She darts between trees with surprising agility, a phantom who uses her companions as diversions while she circles and strikes from impossible angles.
The sound of laughter rings through the crisp mountain air as we dart between the trees. My cheeks burn from the biting cold and the unshakeable grin stretching across my face.
I spot Charlie through the snow-laden branches, her auburn hair peeking from beneath her beanie as she creeps around my flank.
She treads lightly, each step calculated, while Emily and Addie bombard me with snowy projectiles from the front.
I keep my shoulders squared toward the main assault, but my senses lock onto Charlie's stealthy approach.
The soft crunch of her boots in the snow. The occasional twig snapping underfoot.
She edges closer, just a few feet away now.
I can hear the soft hitch as she tries to steady her breathing.
The rustle of her jacket as she draws her arm back, snowball clutched victoriously in her gloved hand.
At the last possible second, I pivot and lunge forward in one fluid motion, watching her confidence shatter into surprise.
My hands find the curve of her waist as I use her own momentum against her, backing her against the rough bark of a snow-dusted evergreen. We disappear behind the thick trunk, hidden from prying eyes.
"Gotcha," I murmur, our mingled breath dancing between us in the frigid air.
Her eyes widen, those warm hazel depths I’ve gotten lost in so many times these past few days now dark with surprise.
Her cheeks are flushed pink—from the cold, from running, from this unbearable tension between us—and a loose strand of auburn hair clings to her forehead where it escaped from her toboggan.
The snowball she’d been clutching so determinedly just moments ago drops from her gloved hand with a soft thump, forgotten before it even hits the ground between our boots.
We’re pressed together—no space, no pretense between us now.
The rough bark of the evergreen digs into the back of her puffy coat as I cage her in, my hands braced against the tree, our chests brushing with every ragged breath.
The woods around us are quiet except for the distant laughter of Emily and Addie still playfully shouting taunts through the trees. Then—something in her changes.
I see it in the way her lips part slightly, the way her playful defiance seems to drain away, leaving only something hotter, rawer.
Her gaze drops to my mouth for a fleeting second, and that’s all the invitation I need.
My heart pounds in my chest, wild and unrestrained, as I lean in, closing that final distance between us.
The kiss isn’t careful. It isn’t measured or strategic like so many of our interactions up to now.
It’s messy, desperate, a collision of lips and breath and pent-up tension condensed into this single moment.
And—fuck—she doesn’t hesitate. Not for a second.
The second my mouth crashes into hers, she meets me with the same reckless eagerness, one leg hooking around my calf through the layers of snow pants we’re both wearing, dragging me closer until there’s no space left between us at all.
Her gloved fingers fist in my hair, pulling in a way that sends heat straight down my spine.
A small, breathless noise escapes the back of her throat—something between surprise and surrender—and it nearly undoes me.
All the blood in my system seems to race down to my cock and I can already feel it straining against my pants.
I lean in and push it against her, letting her feel just how much I want this.
That grants me another strangled moan. My hand slides from the tree to her waist, gripping the thick fabric of her coat like I’m afraid she’ll vanish if I don’t hold on tight, while my other hand cups the side of her face, thumb brushing the flushed skin just below the edge of her knit hat.
I don’t care about the snow. Don’t care that we’re supposed to be in some ridiculous snowball fight. All I can think is that I need more—more of her, more of this—somewhere with no interruptions, no watchful eyes, no reason to pretend anymore.
"Charlie? Bash? Where'd you guys go?"
Emily's voice breaks the spell. Charlie pulls back, her breathing ragged, eyes dazed. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the realization of what just happened—what almost happened—settling between us.
"We should..." she whispers.
"Yeah," I agree, reluctantly stepping back.
She straightens her hat, which has gone slightly askew, and I brush some snow from her shoulder. There's an intimacy to these small gestures that feels more significant than the kiss we just shared.
"Over here!" Charlie calls, her voice only slightly unsteady. "Just strategizing!"
As we walk back toward the others, I catch her glancing at me, a small, secret smile playing at her lips. Whatever this is between us, it's definitely not fake anymore.
Emily eyes us suspiciously when we emerge from the trees. "Uh-huh. 'Strategizing.' Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
"Shut up," Charlie mutters, bending to gather more snow.
Addie snaps a picture of us, then studies it on her camera's display. "You guys look happy," she observes.
"I am happy," I say, surprising myself with the simple truth of it.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of laughter and flying snow, culminating in a spectacular team-building disaster when Charlie and I attempt to construct a snowman that keeps listing dangerously to one side.
"It has character," Charlie insists, jabbing a carrot into its misshapen face.
"It looks drunk," Emily says, scrunching up her features. "Architecturally unsound," she adds.
Addie circles it, taking photos. "I'm calling him Leaning Larry."
"Perfect," I say, draping my arm around Charlie's shoulders. "A true masterpiece."
She leans into me, fitting perfectly against my side. "Our first family snowman."
Our eyes meet briefly, and I wonder if she realizes what she's said—if she's thinking about next Christmas and the ones after that, like I suddenly am.
Sarah steps onto the deck, waving to get our attention. "Charlie! Emily! Your mom said she made dinner reservations and that everyone needs to come inside and get cleaned up!"
"Coming!" Charlie calls back. She turns to me, suddenly shy. "We should go."
"Yeah, I'll be in in a minute." I need a moment to collect my thoughts, to process the storm of feelings swirling inside me.
She nods, heading toward the house with Emily. Addie continues snapping photos of our ridiculous snowman, humming a tune I don't recognize.
I stand there, surrounded by the pristine Colorado mountains, the crisp air filling my lungs, and I realize something that should terrify me but instead fills me with certainty:
I'm falling in love with Charlie Whitaker. Not pretend love for a fake relationship, but real, profound, life-changing love.
And I have absolutely no idea what to do about it.
Because in a few days, this vacation will end. We'll go back to work, back to reality. And I'll have to face the question that's been haunting me since she first asked me to come here:
What happens when the pretending stops?