Chapter 3
Cole
Then I see it. A little hatchback that looks like it’s one pothole away from giving up on life, packed so full the rear windshield could double as a diorama of Hailey’s entire existence.
There are blankets wedged under a hanging plant and a colander pressed to the glass like it’s trying to breathe. A cat tower?
Does she even have a cat?
I huff a laugh. “Women pack like they’re fleeing the damn apocalypse.”
“COLE!” The lobby doors burst open and a red scarf comes flying at me attached to five-foot-nothing chaos. My little sister Maddie barrels in, cheeks pink, hair frizzing from the snow, and slams into my chest like she’s still eight and I’m still the hero who can reach the top cupboard.
I wrap her in my arms, hugging her tighter than necessary, but it’s been two years since I’ve seen the kids. “Hey, pest.”
She swats my arm. “You look… lumberjacky. Very on brand for Denver.”
“Occupational hazard.” I tip my chin toward the hatchback. “You two rob a HomeGoods?”
“Ha. That took incredible skill by the way, years of playing Tetris finally paid off. Come in.”
She drags me by the sleeve toward the glass doors, and that’s when Hailey steps out behind her.
It’s a stupid thing to notice first, but her mouth is the exact shape of a perfectly smashed heart. Her lips look soft, pink, parted on a small puff of air when the cold hits her. She tugs her beanie down over dark hair and offers me a shy smile.
“Hey, Cole.” Her voice is lower than I remember. A little raspy even. “Thanks for—”
“Sure.” I nod once and she looks away fast like she got caught doing something.
Maddie claps, businesslike. “Okay, team, here’s the plan. The elevator’s being a diva, so we’re taking the stairs. Fourth floor. There’s a loading zone out front for the truck. Cole, can you please be the one to parallel park the U-Haul?”
“I’ll deal with it.” I look outside. “Where is it?”
“Umm.” She looks from me to Hailey. “We left it parked in the alley.”
“Jesus—okay, give me the keys.” She drops them into my palm as we walk back outside. “Why don’t you girls start with the car?” I pop the hatch on the hatchback. A lamp tries to decapitate me on the way out. “Which boxes first?”
Hailey fumbles for a list on her phone. “Oh, I organized everything it’s um—kitchen, then books, then—”
“Books are heavier,” I say. “They go first.” I shoulder a banker’s box that says H: BOOKS (HEAVY). “Where’s the stairwell?”
“Through the lobby, to the right of the elevator,” Maddie chirps, already scooping up a box. She throws me a look over her shoulder and then turns back to Hailey. “He’s grumpy, but he’s helpful. You’ll love it.”
Hailey’s eyes flick to mine. “Fourth floor,” she says, tilting her head toward the door.
Maddie’s chatter fills the stairwell. “So the apartment is technically a ‘junior one-bedroom’ which is code for ‘we scammed a wall into a studio.’ The view is great, though! There’s a sliver of mountains if you lean out the window and risk your life.”
“Sounds great,” I deadpan.
We reach the fourth floor, and it hits me how much of a son of a bitch this is going to be with the elevator acting up. I set the box down by 4B, roll my shoulders once, and catch Hailey watching. She drops her gaze to her boots, cheeks flushing a slight pink that is most likely from the cold.
“Key?” I ask.
She jumps, fumbles, then slides it in the lock. The door sticks. I push my shoulder to it, feel the give in the top hinge. Loose screws, cheap strike plate. I can fix that.
“Welcome home,” Maddie sings.
“Okay, I’ll go move the truck and see what I can do about that elevator.”
By the time I get the U-Haul wedged between two compact cars that are absolutely not compact, I’m sweating under three layers of flannel and denim. Denver drivers honk like it’s an Olympic sport, and some guy in a puffer jacket gives me a sarcastic thumbs-up when I finally kill the engine.
City life. Gotta fucking love it.
When I head back toward the building, I can already hear Maddie’s voice echoing down the stairwell.
“Hailey, we need an unpacking playlist that doesn’t make me want to cry!”
I push open the door just as Hailey backs into the hall carrying a box half her size. She’s in leggings, a sweatshirt that says Coding is Sexy in fading letters, and those boots with the white fur on the inside. A streak of hair’s come loose from her beanie, curling against her cheek.
The box wobbles. “Whoa—careful.”
I step forward, grab the edge before it tips, and our fingers brush. Her eyes fly up, wide and startled, like she wasn’t expecting the contact.
“I’ve got it,” she insists, though her arms are trembling.
“Sure you do.” I lift it out of her hands easily and her mouth drops open.
“You make that look too easy.”
“Occupational hazard,” I say again, and the corner of her mouth kicks up. “Have to handle a lot of heavy things when you’re building houses.”
She moves ahead of me, opening the stairwell door with her hip.
The moment we hit the first landing, I realize how narrow the space is.
My shoulders barely clear the wall. She’s just ahead of me, her hips swaying with every step, and my brain short-circuits for a second before I drag my gaze to the damn ceiling.
Don’t look. Don’t even think about it.
Halfway up, Maddie calls down from above. “You two okay down there, or did Hailey bust her ass slipping on the ice again?”
Hailey whips around. “Maddie!”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Everything’s fine. Focus on not dropping whatever that is before you kill yourself.”
Her laugh echoes down the stairwell. “You’re no fun.”
“Never claimed to be.”
Hailey’s still blushing when she reaches the top. She sets down a lighter box and blows a strand of hair out of her face. “I swear she’s worse now that she’s your sister and not just my roommate.”
“She’s always been worse.”
Her laugh is quiet, real. And damn if it doesn’t do something to me—like unspool something tight in my chest I didn’t even know was there.
We keep hauling boxes, lamps, random crap labeled “MISC: HANDLE WITH CARE (PROBABLY WINE).” Every trip feels like a test of self-control. At one point she slips on the last step and my hand shoots out on instinct, gripping her waist to steady her.
Her body goes still against mine. For one heartbeat, she’s right there. Her soft curves pressed against me, steady breath, eyes flicking up to meet mine.
“Got you,” I murmur.
“Thanks.” It comes out breathy, almost a whisper.
I let go too fast. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She clears her throat, looking anywhere but at me. “I just… must be the altitude.” She laughs.
“Yeah, it takes a minute,” I say. “You'll acclimate soon enough.”
I drop the box near the wall and glance around. The place is small but clean. High ceilings, big windows. It’s the kind of place that loves to advertise as ‘luxury’ when the only thing that’s luxury is the price you pay.
She catches me looking. “It’s not much yet, but I’ll make it homey once the boxes stop threatening to collapse on me.”
“Looks good.” I meet her gaze for a second too long, then turn back toward the door. “Come on, let’s finish before the snow gets worse.”
By the time we unload the last damn box, my shoulders are screaming and Maddie’s declaring herself “deceased.” She sprawls across an air mattress in the corner while Hailey digs through a take-out menu pile on the counter.
“Pizza sound okay?” she asks, cheeks flushed, hair messy from her beanie.
“Always,” I say, dropping onto a folding chair. “My treat.”
Maddie waves from the floor. “Extra cheese. And one of those brownie things if they’ve got it.”
Hailey nods, thumbs flying over her phone, and for a second it feels like déjà vu. She and Maddie side by side as kids, the same way they used to be in my parents’ kitchen.
She glances up. “You want anything special?”
“Nah, I’ll eat anything.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m back with the pizza and a case of beer. Maddie’s halfway through a slice before it’s cooled, still narrating every random thought that passes through her brain like she has since she was a kid.
“So,” Maddie says, wiping sauce from her fingers, “what’s the verdict, big brother? Is the building solid or will it fall over with the next snowstorm?”
“Apartment’s good,” I say. “Nice view. Solid bones. Needs a new door hinge.” I withhold the comments about the overpriced features this place claims is luxury. I remember what it was like having my first place that was all my own.
Hailey perks up. “You noticed that too?”
I shrug. “Cheap hardware. Easy fix.”
“Oh, I’m sure I can just tell the super.”
Maddie groans, rolling over on the air mattress. “See, Hailey? I told you, give him five minutes in a room and he’ll find something to repair. He’s basically a real-life Bob the Builder.”
“Well, I appreciate it. Thank you,” Hailey says, folding her legs beneath her.
Maddie stretches her arms overhead followed by an audible yawn. “I’m going to take a shower and then call it a night.” She loops her arms around me and plants a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”
“Good night, Mads.” I hug her back and watch as she trudges down the hallway.
“It doesn’t feel real yet,” Hailey admits quietly after a few seconds. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and be back in Chicago, late for work, with my coffee maker breaking again.”
“Give it a week,” I say. “Denver’ll get under your skin. It’s slower than Chicago but you’ll fall in love with it.”
She looks over, studying me in that way people do when they’re deciding if they can trust your advice. “You like it here, then?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Started over here and ended up staying.”
“That’s good to hear.” Then she smiles. “Thanks for today, Cole. I really do appreciate it. Movers are insanely expensive these days.”
“Sure thing.”
She tilts her head, the edge of a smirk returning. “You always this talkative?”
I snort softly. “Only when I’ve got something worth saying.”
She grins, like she’s tempted to push me further, then takes another sip of her beer.
The air between us hums quiet with the faintest hint of tension.
Snow still drifts outside, catching in the amber light spilling through the window, and I catch myself staring at her reflection in the glass instead of the city beyond it.
Her knees are drawn up, sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder, that dark hair falling loose now. There’s a faint red mark where her beanie sat for most of the day.
I stand, grabbing the empty pizza box before I say something stupid. “You should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow. Unpacking, decorating, pretending the elevator isn’t possessed.”
She laughs quietly. “I’ll add that to my to-do list.”
When I move to the door, it sticks again on the top hinge. Without thinking, I crouch down and pull my multi-tool from my jacket pocket. Two screws, a quick adjustment, and it stops catching. Easy fix.
Hailey watches me from the couch, chin resting on her hand. “You really can’t turn it off, can you?”
“Occupational hazard,” I mutter, pocketing the tool. “You’d be amazed how many doors in this city are just waiting to fall off.”
“I don’t doubt it.” She smiles, soft this time. “Thanks again.”
I nod once and tug my coat off the back of the chair. “Get some rest, Hailey.”
She stands too, arms folded loosely across her chest, and for a heartbeat we just…
look at each other. She’s close enough I can smell the faint mix of pizza and either her perfume or soap, something sweet and vanilla.
My pulse kicks hard, and I have to remind myself she’s Maddie’s best friend. She’s off-limits.
“Good night, Cole,” she says finally, her voice low.
“Night.”
I pull the door closed behind me, and it clicks smooth now, no catch. Outside, snow’s piling on the hood of my truck, coating everything in that muffled winter silence. I climb in, start the engine, and sit there for a minute while the heater fights the cold.
She's not in my head. It’s just nostalgia. Just my brain remembering an old face in a new city.