Chapter 9
NINE
TEN MONTHS AGO
For Christmas last year, instead of gifts, our parents gave a weekend ski trip in Killington, Vermont, to Madden, Wren, Hallie, and me.
They’d planned and pre-purchased the entire thing so none of us could argue and booked three rooms (the girls shared a suite, but they were smart enough to realize that Madden and I might actually kill each other if we roomed together, since they tried it when we were kids for about two years before building an addition on the house, probably sensing the impending bloodshed) and lift tickets for a day Wren had a long weekend from school and planned to watch Emma for three nights.
We left on a Thursday and returned on Sunday afternoon just in time for family dinner.
It was a great weekend spent on the mountain and relaxing with my siblings and Hallie.
We spent Thursday, Friday, and Saturday on the mountain before getting dinner and heading to bed tired as could be, but on Saturday night, after a long day on the slopes and then a casual dinner, we all sat in the lodge for our last night, laughing, drinking, and relaxing.
It was the most at ease I’d felt in my lifetime.
The trip as a whole made me realize that since Emma had come into my life, I hadn’t had much time to myself.
Around nine, Wren let out a loud yawn, saying she was tapping out since she rarely got the opportunity to go to bed early, and then it was Madden, Hallie, and me.
An hour after that, Madden started flirting with another guest and left Hallie and me sitting around the fire.
Both of her hands were wrapped around a warm mug of hot toddy as she sat in an armchair, and I was on the couch catty-corner to her.
“You gonna head up?” I asked since both Madden and Wren were gone, and I knew it had been a long day for her.
We’d spent many nights over the years chatting together, usually in situations just like this at her brother’s bar, with Madden chasing some woman and Wren running off to do some favor for someone, so it wasn’t like it was odd, but I didn’t want her to feel forced to sit with me.
But then a soft smile spread on her lips, and she shrugged.
A cozy look was on her face, a little bit tired from a long day, a little bit recharged after a weekend with people she loved to spend time with, and a little bit buzzed since that was her third cup of the evening.
“I'm not really tired,” she said, and the words hung between us as if she was waiting for me to say something—to add something—to extend the night a little longer. It was apparent she wasn’t ready to call it a night yet, and honestly, I wasn’t either.
The next day, we were checking out and driving back home, but I didn’t want this feeling of relaxation to end.
I wanted living in this small bubble, free from the pressure and stress of my everyday life, to last just a little bit longer.
It was the first time since Emma’s mother had left that I’d let myself have a weekend away without the stress of wondering about her, both because I knew my parents were watching her and because I finally felt like she was old enough to leave for a bit.
“Neither am I. Let’s hang here for a bit longer,” I said, and the widest, brightest grin lit her face.
We spent the next two hours talking, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s company.
Eventually, she moved to sit on the couch beside me, just a few inches apart, and like it had happened countless times before, I felt a pull toward her.
Countless times, I’ve hung around longer than needed or intended, just wanting to stay and talk more, to hear her thoughts and opinions on everyday subjects, or to listen to her talk about some show she was watching or describe a book she was reading.
I just liked hearing her talk.
At some point, she said something that made me laugh out loud, my head tipping back as the sound rolled out of me, and it felt so foreign.
Afterward, I looked around the room to see if anyone was staring since it must have been extremely loud or out of place, only to realize everyone in the lodge was still lost in their own conversations.
It wasn’t that it was loud or excessive; it’s just that I hadn’t laughed like that in such a long time that it felt strange to do it. When I turned back to her, she was giving me a soft, knowing smile. “I don't think I've ever seen you look like that.”
I know what she meant, but I still asked. “What do you mean?”
She lifted a shoulder, eyes shifting down to her drink before answering. “I don’t know. You just…you looked so free for a second. I don’t know the last time I’ve seen you look like that.”
A moment passed as I absorbed her words, waiting for her to lift her head and look at me. When she did, her green eyes met mine, and something shifted. My hand reached out on its own, grabbing her hand and squeezing it once.
“Yeah,” I said, lifting my beer to take another sip, holding her gaze.
A blush spread across her cheeks, and she changed the subject but kept her hand in mine.
We sat like that for a while until almost midnight, when only a few others lingered in the lodge, the fire burning in the fireplace louder than the conversations of the few remaining guests.
It was then that she tipped her head toward the large windows.
“It’s snowing,” she said, and I followed her gaze to where thick, heavy snowflakes were falling gently, illuminated by one of the exterior lights.
She stood, grabbing her coat off the couch and shrugging it on, and I followed suit, not sure what she was doing, but in that moment, I think I’d follow her to the ends of the earth if it kept that light, warm feeling stirring in my chest.
When she got to the door, she turned back to look over her shoulder at me, her hands moving behind her neck to tuck her hair out of her jacket. “Want to come check it out?”
The lodge we were staying in was a huge log cabin surrounded by trees that even I could admit would look magical in the snow, so I nodded, opening the door and guiding her outside.
We started walking in silence along the side of the lodge, not a soul in sight.
I placed my hand on her lower back, and she moved closer to me, my heart pounding as possibilities and maybes raced through my mind.
It had been a long time since I felt, or more accurately, let myself feel attraction to a woman, so caught up in trying to be the best dad I could for Emma, and it felt absolutely wild that this was the time it decided to return.
This was Hallie, after all.
Hallie, who had been around for so long, I couldn’t clearly remember when she became a fixture in my family—just that she always seemed to be there.
Hallie, best friend of my sister, second daughter of my parents, who works for my family’s business. The one who gets all of our family secrets, who laughs at our inside jokes, who has always fit in, and who loves Emma just as much as anyone else in my tight-knit family does.
Hallie, whom I had found myself spending more and more time with over the previous year, making excuses to see or bump into her, had become a fixture in my mind.
I was lost in these thoughts, both exhilarating and confusing, when she hit a patch of the sidewalk where the snow was fresh and lost her footing.
The hand on her lower back came in handy as I shifted quickly; my boot caught in the snow with no problem, unlike her soft-bottomed ones, which offered no grip, and I caught her.
Her body was pinned to mine, her hands gripping my shoulders tightly before loosening, my arm wrapped around her waist. Her feet found purchase, but I didn’t let go, instead pulling her even closer to me without even thinking.
“Those shoes are trash for the snow,” I whispered, because I’ve told both her and my sister that those types of shoes aren’t really winter boots and are definitely not suitable for a tree farm in winter.
A small smile tipped on her lips. “Can’t exactly complain right now,” she whispered.
I looked down at her, her chin tilted up to look at me, our breaths mingling between us, causing clouds in the cold I can’t even feel right now, not with the way my pulse is pounding, with the way my body is heated.
Slowly, painfully slowly, I dip my head down, giving her a lifetime to push me away, to say no, to say anything, but she doesn’t.
Instead, the hands on my neck tighten, pulling me in closer until my lips are on hers.
Then we’re kissing, her soft lips pressed to mine in a tentative touch.
It’s almost chaste, almost sweet—the perfect, idyllic first kiss—until she sighs into it, her body going lax, her lips parting just a bit, and her tongue slipping out to glide along the seam of mine.
I groan into it, taking control, one hand moving to the back of her head to angle her the way I want her, to deepen the kiss, to slide my tongue into her mouth and tantalize her.
She tastes like honey, whiskey, and fucking Hallie, and it was perfect.
Everything I never knew I needed—the perfect sweet contrast to me—and when her hands tighten, fingers twining in my hair and pulling, I know we’re on the same page.
I groaned, my hips moving involuntarily into hers, and she sighed into it, pulling me closer.
Never in my life had I felt more like I belonged somewhere, as I fit with another person, and through my lust-driven haze, I remember wondering if maybe this is what—or rather who—I had been searching for all along.
Eight years of resigning myself to waiting until Emma was out of the house before looking for a partner, and all along, the perfect one was there, waiting for me to open my damn eyes.