Chapter 4 Hailey
Hailey
“This place looks like Santa’s Pinterest board exploded,” Maddie whispers, eyes wide at the garlands and the handwritten menu on a chalkboard shaped like a snowflake. We decided a quick cup of coffee and a pastry were needed before Cole comes to pick her up for the airport.
“It’s cute,” I say, even though the barista in a sequined elf hat is putting actual glitter on someone’s latte.
We slide into a booth by the window. Outside, downtown Denver looks dipped in powdered sugar.
“Two peppermint mochas and two of the Santa belly pastries,” the barista calls a few moments later.
“I’m going to feel like Santa after this thing.” I take a bite of the buttery pastry, flakes of dough falling from my mouth to the table.
She shrugs, unapologetic. “I’m carb-loading for the emotional labor of leaving my best friend, so it doesn’t count.”
That lands low in my stomach. I force a smile, remembering that this isn't just a typical day in Chicago. Today is the day Maddie flies home and I’m left all alone here. “We’re FaceTiming every day. Nonnegotiable. Morning coffee check-ins. Outfit approvals. Cat videos. Date recaps.”
She taps her phone like she’s scheduling us into her calendar already. “And I’ll hoard airline miles so we have no excuse to come visit each other.”
I laugh, then fold my hands around my steaming mug. “I’m not going to be sad,” I lie, then soften. “Okay, I’ll probably have a full-on meltdown once you leave but after that, I’m going to try to embrace this new city with full gusto.”
“Yes, that’s the spirit.” She leans across the table and bumps her knuckles to mine. “Even though I don’t believe you, I believe in you.”
My chest squeezes. I look out at the street where a couple passes, their laughter creating small puffs of air in the cold. “It feels like I blinked and we’re here. Last week we were freshman idiots decorating a fern. Now you’re back in Chicago and I’m… here.”
“You get to be here.” She smiles, always putting that positive spin on things.
It’s one of my favorite attributes about her; she will always see the good in things and people.
“Working for a company that is beyond excited to have you, a city with mountains and even hotter mountain men, and a very handy emergency contact.”
“I’m not going to start taking advantage of Cole.” I laugh. “Does he know you pimp him out this much to help people?”
“What? He’s a walking tool belt. You saw the hinge thing last night.”
“He fixed it in under a minute,” I say, like I didn’t notice the scar on his knuckle and the way his brow creased in focus.
Maddie grins, pleased. “See? Handy. And he promised he’d take care of you if you needed anything. You’re covered. Trust me, he thinks of you like another little sister.”
“Got it,” I say and sip the mocha. It coats my tongue, sweet and minty. I finish my pastry, checking the time to make sure we aren’t running late. Time slips by strangely fast when you know a goodbye is looming just outside the door.
“We should head back soon. Cole says he’s on his way over.” Maddie looks down at her phone, then back up at me.
When we make it back to my building, Cole's there, leaning against his truck. “Morning,” he says, a half grumble.
“Chauffeur service,” Maddie sings, sliding into the truck cab with her bag. “Five stars if you let me control the music.”
“Whatever you want kid.” He laughs.
“So, I was telling Hailey she needs to do the thing where she pretends to be an extrovert for the first month so people adopt her. Any advice for surviving the altitude besides drinking water like you’re on a cleanse? Also, tell her the thing about sunscreen in winter.”
Cole taps his thumb once on the steering wheel. “Drink water. Move slower than you think you need to the first week or so. Sunscreen year-round, yeah.”
“See?” Maddie says, triumphant. “He’s already coming in clutch with the helpfulness.”
His eyes flick to hers briefly and he shakes his head.
The corner of his lip twitches with a whisper of a smile.
It's cute the way he pretends she annoys him, just like he’d do when we were kids.
But the second someone hurt her or she had a problem, Cole was first in line to defend her, even if it meant he got in trouble for it.
“So, how’s the jobsite?” Maddie asks, oblivious to my internal crisis. “Are your guys still useless without you?”
“They’re fine,” he says. “Weather’s messing with timelines, though.”
“Holiday builds sound chaotic,” I murmur, finally brave enough to enter the conversation. My voice emerges softer than I intend. “Not sure I’d want to worry about all that on top of the holiday season.”
He glances over. “They can be.”
The cab falls quiet, Christmas music playing on the radio. Maddie hums along, looking out the window. Cole nudges her with his elbow, and she turns to look at him.
“I’m going to miss you, kid. Always do.”
“I’ll miss you too.” She bumps him back, smiling, but I can see the tears she’s holding back. “Maybe consider coming home this year, okay?”
Cole nods. “Okay.” He loops his arm around her neck, pulling her toward him and kissing the top of her head.
Still almost a month out from Christmas and the airport is already insane. Cole finds a spot on the top level of the garage, kills the engine, and for a second none of us move. Like if we don’t open the doors, time won’t either.
“C’mon,” Maddie says, voice too bright. “Rip off the Band-Aid.”
We hover at the edge of security. The line snakes past an endless line of stanchions. Maddie turns to me, eyes already glassy. “FaceTime tonight?”
“Obviously.” My throat is tight. “And tomorrow. And the day after. You’re not getting rid of me.”
She laughs, then folds into me, arms around my neck, her shampoo the same familiar scent that filled our bathroom for years. We sway in place like we’re slow dancing at prom. I breathe her in and try to memorize every piece without completely falling apart in the middle of the Denver airport.
“I’m proud of you,” she whispers into my hair. “Go live a big, exciting, gorgeous life.”
“Only if you promise to come visit me and never replace me as your best friend.”
“Deal.”
We separate, both wiping at our faces like we’re not bawling.
Maddie faces Cole, chin wobbling. “Take care of her, okay?”
He doesn’t even blink. “Of course.” He grabs her and tugs her into him before we can see him cry. Maddie hugs him tight. He kisses the top of her head again, like it’s muscle memory. “Text when you clear security and when you land,” he says.
“I will.” She sniffles, smiling. “Okay, okay.” She steps away from us and grabs her suitcase from Cole. “I love you both. I’ll let you know when I land. Now, get out of here before she drowns in her tears.” She points at me, smiling at me one more time before turning and walking into the line.
The drive back is heavy and quiet. The radio hums an acoustic cover of “Let It Snow.” Outside, the mountains rise like folded blue paper, dusted in white.
I press my forehead to the cold window, watching them blur by, wishing I could fold myself back into the moment before Maddie disappeared past security.
“You okay?” Cole asks after a few miles, his voice low and rough, like gravel smoothed by time.
I nod. “Yeah.” Quieter, she adds, “Just feels weird. She’s been my constant for so long. Every apartment, every breakup, every birthday hangover… she’s always there.”
He glances at me, one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. “Yeah, just about every story I’ve ever heard from her involves you.”
That makes me smile. “We’re soulmates,” I say simply. “I’m not sure I know how to do life without her.” I laugh, wiping away another tear.
He hums, a quiet sound of agreement, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “You’ll figure it out. She won’t let you get too sad.”
I turn my head toward him. “You sound pretty sure of that.”
“You know Maddie, always finding that silver lining and turning a frown upside down,” he says, lips twitching.
A laugh bubbles up from somewhere I didn’t expect. “Fair. You’re not wrong. She always saw the positive in you too.”
The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, exactly.
Just… unspoken. I sneak another look at him.
His shoulders look like they’re a mile wider than that skinny, quiet teenager who was always dressed in black.
The sun catches the stubble on his jaw, a hint of red in his beard.
He’s not Maddie’s wild big brother anymore; he’s a grown-ass man and suddenly, it’s like I’m realizing that for the first time.
“So,” I start carefully, “why don’t you go home much? I mean, Maddie always says you’re too busy, but—”
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Work’s here. Life’s here.”
The way he says it is final. I nod once, filing it away as one of those questions you don’t push. We fall quiet again. The highway stretches out ahead, curving toward the city. The radio shifts to another Christmas song, this one upbeat and stupidly cheerful.
By the time we hit downtown, the knot in my chest has loosened a little. My mind is now preoccupied and very overwhelmed with the thought of unpacking and organizing.
Cole pulls to the curb in front of my building and shifts into park. “Home sweet home,” he murmurs.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, fumbling with my seat belt. “And for, you know, helping me move in. I’d still be lugging boxes upstairs right now without you.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, then reaches for the center console. “Wait.”
He grabs a business card from his glove box, flips it over, and scribbles something on the back with a carpenter’s pencil. “Here. My cell. If you need anything—or run into any trouble with the new place.”
I take it carefully, fingers brushing his for half a heartbeat too long. “Thanks, Cole. Merry Christmas… if I don’t see you again before the holidays.”
“Yeah. Merry Christmas to you too.”
I step out into the cold, the air biting my cheeks. By the time I turn to wave, his taillights are already disappearing down the street. I stand there until they vanish, card clutched in my glove.
For someone who barely talks, why does it feel like he’s going to start taking up space in my head?