Chapter Nineteen
Liam
The fireplace flickers to life with a soft whoosh, its warm glow casting golden light across the room. The flames aren’t real, but the heat is steady, constant, a calming presence in the darkness. It feels fitting—almost too fitting—for the tension humming between Maggie and me.
“I need to call my mom,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket, trying to ground myself. “She, uh, worries.”
Maggie looks up from where she’s perched on the edge of the couch, her face softened by the firelight. “That’s sweet,” she says, her tone light but genuine.
The way the warm hues dance over her features makes it hard to look away, so I turn to the window, focusing on the blur of snow outside as I dial. Mom answers on the first ring, her voice edged with concern.
“Liam? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I reassure her. “The snow’s bad, but I’m at the lodge. I never left. I’ve got a room for the night.”
“Do you have power?” she presses, her words coming quickly. “We lost ours about an hour ago.”
“It went out here, too, but we’ve got a gas fireplace, so we’re warm.”
There’s a moment of silence before Mom asks, “We?”
Heat creeps up the back of my neck, and I glance at Maggie. She’s pretending not to hear, her eyes fixed on the fire, but I can tell by the faint smirk on her lips that she’s listening.
“Just… someone I’m with,” I say vaguely.
Mom’s tone shifts instantly, all teasing and excitement. “Oh, is that THE girl?”
“I’ve gotta go,” I mutter quickly, my ears burning.
“Have fun,” she chirps, “but not too much fun. You still have a—”
I hang up before she can finish, my heart pounding a little harder than it should.
When I turn back, Maggie’s watching me, her lips curved into a knowing smile. “You’re close with your mom, huh?”
“Too close,” I grumble, rubbing the back of my neck. “She’s got this uncanny ability to make everything ten times more embarrassing than it needs to be.”
Maggie chuckles softly, the sound like a spark catching fire. “She sounds great.”
“She is,” I admit, my voice quiet as I study her. The firelight makes her look softer, warmer, almost untouchable, like she belongs to the glow, not the chaos of the storm outside. The steam from her shower left her hair softer, too, its strands looking even more touchable than before.
For a moment, neither of us says anything, the only sound the soft crackle of the flames. It feels like the fire is the only thing tethering us, mirroring the unspoken energy simmering between us—steady, building, inevitable.
I clear my throat, breaking the silence. “I guess it’s just you and me tonight.”
Maggie smirks, her lips curving up in a way that makes my pulse skip. “Yeah, I’d say so.”
“We need rations,” I declare, my tone mock-serious. “How do you feel about a stealthy theft operation?”
Her laugh is soft and melodic, the sound wrapping around me like the heat from the fire. “You want to steal something?”
“Technically,” I say with a grin, “it’s not stealing. Think of it as... creative resource management. Room service is down, so we’ve got to get resourceful.”
Maggie rises from the couch, her arms crossing over her chest as she eyes me playfully. “Sounds like fun. What’s the plan, mastermind?”
I tap my chin dramatically, pacing a few steps. “First, we scope out the layout. Kitchen’s probably locked, but I’m betting they didn’t secure the snack room. It’s all about timing and precision.”
“Timing and precision?” she echoes, raising an amused eyebrow. “We’re going to raid a snack room, not infiltrate a secret lair.”
“Same energy,” I counter, grinning as I grab a flashlight from the small emergency kit on the desk. “Come on, Cooper. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
“Oh, I’m in,” she says, her eyes gleaming. “But if we get caught, this is all on you.”
I laugh as I open the door, motioning for her to follow. “Deal. Let’s go, partner-in-crime.”
Maggie steps into the dark hallway beside me, her earlier tension seemingly forgotten.
Her shoulder brushes mine, and the subtle warmth of her presence sends a thrill through me.
The only light filling the space are the emergency lights and the red EXIT sign at the end of the hall.
It’s intimate and cozy. Actually, any space I’m in with Maggie feels intimate and cozy.
I’ve never felt that way with someone before. She really is different.
“Alright,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Let’s find some snacks before we both starve.”
I glance at her, my grin widening. “You really know how to keep the stakes high.”
She laughs quietly, and I can’t help but think that this is the kind of night I’ll be replaying in my mind for a long time.
I shine the flashlight down the long hall, the beam cutting through the darkness like a beacon. At the end, the faint outline of a sign for the stairs glimmers. I tilt my head toward it, motioning for Maggie to follow as we quietly begin walking.
The silence is interrupted by the unmistakable groan of a door creaking open somewhere behind us. My pulse spikes as I immediately switch off the flashlight and grab Maggie’s hand. She grips mine firmly, her tenderness grounding me even in the sudden tension.
“Run!” I whisper, my voice low but urgent.
We take off, our hurried footsteps muffled by the carpeted hall.
Laughter bubbles out of both of us as the adrenaline kicks in, the thrill of our impromptu adventure more exhilarating than anything I’ve felt in months.
We reach the door to the stairs, and I swing it open.
Maggie jumps through first, her hand still locked in mine, her grip surprisingly strong.
“Shhh!” I press a finger to my lips, tugging her close as I softly push the door shut behind us.
I back her up against the cold concrete wall, my body instinctively shielding hers. My arms rest on either side of her, and I lean in just enough to hear the faintest sounds beyond the door. The air is thick with the quiet anticipation.
“I think I heard someone,” I whisper, my breath fanning against her cheek.
She swallows audibly, her free hand landing against my chest. The feel of her touch through my shirt makes me hyperaware of the way our bodies are pressed together, the space between us nonexistent.
Her breaths are shallow, matching mine, and the air between us shifts.
For the first time in years, the thought of not snowboarding doesn’t twist my stomach into knots.
For the first time, I’m struck with the realization that life can offer something more—a connection deeper than the rush of a perfect run or the thrill of winning.
“Maggie,” I murmur softly, almost afraid to break the fragile tension hanging in the air.
She inhales sharply. And just like that, the world outside the stairwell fades, leaving only this moment, this feeling, and her.
I flick the flashlight back on, its beam slicing through the dim stairwell as I force myself to step away from Maggie. The cold air fills the space between us, but it’s not enough to cool the heat still simmering from our proximity.
“You think the coast is clear?” she asks quietly, her voice carrying a breathless edge that sends a ripple through me.
“Yeah,” I say, though my focus is split between the faint sounds beyond the door and the way she steps toward me, bridging the gap I just created. Her closeness makes it impossible to think straight, and for a moment, I’m overwhelmed by the urge to close the distance entirely.
I take a steadying breath and nod toward the stairs. “Let’s go.”
The chill bites harder as we descend, wrapping itself around us. Maggie shivers beside me, her arms pulling closer to her body, and I instinctively shine the flashlight ahead, illuminating the way.
We’re quiet as we move, our steps careful on the worn stairs, but I can practically feel the buzz of Maggie’s thoughts. She’s somewhere far away, lost in her own mind. I want to ask what she’s thinking, but something tells me that if I’m patient, she’ll share on her own.
When we reach the first floor, I push the door open gently, the creak cutting through the stillness of the darkened lobby.
A faint glow from the fireplace in the corner casts shadows across the room.
A few people are huddled near it, wrapped in blankets, their faces pinched with exhaustion or frustration.
They’re likely the ones who couldn’t get a room before the power went out.
“At least we only have one flight of stairs to climb back up,” Maggie whispers, her tone light but tired.
I nod and motion toward the kitchen. “This way.”
To my surprise, the kitchen door isn’t locked, and we slip inside without a sound. The faint scent of spices and baked goods lingers in the air, a welcome change from the cold. “What are you in the mood for?” I ask.
“Chocolate,” Maggie answers immediately. “And something salty.”
“Sweet and salty?” I raise an eyebrow, unable to hide my amusement.
“The perfect combo,” she says, clicking her tongue as if it’s obvious.
Her hand is still in mine, and I’m acutely aware of the how her fingers tighten around mine. I clear my throat, trying to focus. “Crackers, chips, and chocolate?”
She tilts her head, considering. “What about sour candy?”
“Sour gummy worms?” I suggest.
Her eyes light up. “Perfect!”
When she finally lets go of my hand, I feel an unexpected pang of loss, but I shake it off as I turn toward the oversized pantry.
It’s packed with everything you’d expect and more.
I grab a little of everything she mentioned: crackers, chips, pretzels, chocolate, and the holy grail—a bag of sour gummy worms.
“Jackpot,” I whisper, holding up the bag triumphantly.
Maggie grins, her eyes sparkling even in the dim light. “You’re really good at this whole heist thing.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” I tease, tossing her the bag. “You’re an excellent accomplice.”
She catches it with ease, her laughter soft and genuine, and for a moment, the cold and the dark are forgotten.
I load up my arms with our bounty, Maggie still clutching the sour gummy worms. She flashes me a playful grin, and I can’t help but grin back.
“We should head back before someone realizes we’re raiding the kitchen,” I whisper, but I make no move to leave.
Maggie glances around, her eyes falling on the long marble counter in the middle of the room.
She leans against it, tearing open the bag of gummy worms. “One for the road,” she jokes, holding one up before popping it into her mouth.
Her lips curve into a smile, the kind that lights up her entire face, and I feel my chest tighten.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I tell her, setting the rest of the food down and stepping closer.
She tilts her head, a teasing spark in her eyes. “Maybe I just like breaking the rules.”
“That makes two of us,” I murmur, closing the space between us. Her breath hitches, and before I can second-guess myself, I lean in.
Our lips meet in a soft, electric kiss. It’s slow at first, but the moment her hand brushes against my jaw, everything deepens. In this quiet, dimly lit kitchen, nothing else seems to matter.