Chapter 31
31
I’m curled up in bed, Puffin stretched out beside me, trying my very best to resist the temptation to scroll social media for updates on Tyler.
I sent him a text as soon as Sebastian left, though I have no idea if he even has his phone on him at this point. After several awkward first drafts, I finally settled on this novel of a text message:
Sebastian wants me to write about what happened this morning—how he was shocked to discover you here at the lodge—in his book. There’s not much I’ll be able to do about it, so I wanted to give you a heads-up. I think I at least convinced him not to confirm that it’s you *today*… so that should buy you some time.
I’m so sorry for what all of this has come to—
I’m not sorry I met you, though. I’m only sorry that it has to end if you choose to start over somewhere else. It was worth it, though, for me: there’s no one else like you, and I’m lucky to have gotten the chance to know you, even if it wasn’t for long enough.
x, Alix
My cheeks are still hot with tears. I didn’t come here for romance—if anything, I was reluctant to dip my toes back into the water until Chloe encouraged me to just go have fun, try something new—but then there was Tyler, and his smile and his laugh and the way he put me at ease right from the start, and I—
I ended up ruining his life. Indirectly, of course, but it wouldn’t have happened if I had never come here.
SO MANY NOSY RESORT GUESTS , Lauren texts me, along with a photo. And these are just the ones INSIDE the coffee shop. Still no sign of him, but people keep asking if I know anything. Got stopped outside your building, too.
Oh, crap.
It didn’t even occur to me that people might think Lauren is Jett Beckett’s mystery girl—but our hair is very similar. In good news, a wavy blond bob is not the most remarkable of hairstyles. In not-so-good news, guests with nothing better to do have been staking out our building all day, no doubt on the lookout for Jett or anyone who could possibly be the girl from that invasive drone photo.
Ohmygosh Lauren, get out of there! I don’t need coffee that badly
I do , she replies. They’re mostly leaving me alone at the moment… but I can accidentally bump into someone and spill coffee all over their phone if I need to…
Is this going to be my life now if the world finds out I’m the mystery girl? Unable to go get coffee for fear of being swarmed? No wonder Tyler would rather keep a low profile. I can’t imagine how intense things must have been at the height of his fame—and the relief he must have felt after he went off the grid, finally able to live his life in peace.
And now it’s all come crashing down. My heart hurts, and not just because I want him in my life—but because I know, deep down, that even if he tries to start over, he’s never going to be able to get away with it like he did before. For one, he had River and Julie helping him the first time. For another, now people know to look out for him, even in the unlikeliest of places.
I trust you, Alix .
It was the last thing he said to me up on the mountain. It might be the last thing he ever says to me.
Puffin stretches up to rub his face against mine, as if he can sense how much I need a little comfort. His purring intensifies when I scratch between his ears, like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.
If only human relationships were so simple. Aside from Chloe, Puffin’s been in my life longer than any of my friends—and there’s a reason for that. I don’t let people in easily.
But I let Tyler in. For the first time in years, I let my guard down and allowed myself to get close to someone else. I let myself consider the possibility of a relationship after so many years of trying to keep myself from getting hurt.
We’re both learning how to do this again, both learning how to take risks when we’re used to playing it safe.
I would very much like to continue being a person who’s worthy of Tyler’s trust.
I head into the kitchen, look for a snack. All I have on hand are olives and cheese and crackers, the last of what was stocked in my fridge when I first arrived. I head to the living room, careful to keep my distance from the windows in case any more drones are trying to get a look inside.
After my snack, I start to get antsy. Lauren’s been gone for thirty, forty minutes now—I know she said the café was busy, but that seems like a bit too long even given the circumstances. It’s not that far of a walk, and her last message was more than fifteen minutes ago.
I open my messaging app, planning to send a check-in text, and am surprised to see the three-dot bubble in the window that indicates she’s already typing.
ALIX YOU HAVE TO GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW , she writes.
My skin prickles. Are you okay?? I reply.
I’m fine. Just get down here
And then she sends a link, no context, to a Dewdrops post.
I click through.
To the untrained eye, the photo might look like it came straight from one of those public domain websites: the snowcapped mountain would make the perfect desktop wallpaper or a great addition to one of those moody aesthetics people post about their favorite books and films.
But I know better. It’s not just any mountain—and it’s not just some generic postcard view from the valley below.
This photo was taken from the lookout. Tyler’s lookout.
I glance at the username—u/Jettsetter—and everything falls into place. The most recent post before this one is from eight years ago, the night of Tyler’s disappearance.
Beneath the snowy mountainscape, there’s a simple caption: Took some time to clear my head. See you again soon, world. Xoxo
My heart leaps to my throat. What time did he post this? Six and a half minutes ago, according to the time stamp. He does have his phone. Did he see my message? I tap over, see a little read notification under my text where before it only said delivered .
This can’t mean what I think it does. Right?
The briefest search— Jett Beckett mountain picture Vermont —yields a handful of fresh image results: from what I can tell, all the guests who were hoping to spot Jett at the café are now migrating toward the base of the mountain where the gondola lets out.
Everyone wants to be the first to snap a shot of him.
Everyone wants to confirm the rumors.
Surely Tyler wouldn’t resurface like this , would he? Knowing full well there will be people awaiting him at the bottom of the lift? Then again, the fact that he’s posted online at all from his long-dormant account proves anything is possible.
If I’m right—if Tyler is heading down the mountain as we speak, working up the nerve to show his beautiful face on his own terms for the first time since his disappearance—then I have to get down there as soon as I possibly can.
It’s mercifully quiet outside my building, but the ski village is even busier than I expected. There’s a group making its way down the path that leads to the lifts; I follow, keeping my head down, doing my best to not call attention to myself. The closer we get to the base of the mountain, the thicker the crowd gets, countless smartphone cameras poised and ready.
Lauren stands out in her hot-pink puffer coat. She spots me immediately, waves me over.
“The ski lift started up a few minutes ago,” she says, “so everyone’s convinced he’s on his way down.”
Sure enough, the gondolas are in motion. The lift tech powered everything down before we left earlier, and since the slopes are all closed for the day, I can see why this has caught everyone’s attention, especially given Tyler’s social media post.
The WJKS news crew members have their cameras trained on the gondola cars, looking out for any sign of him. If he’s still in the jacket with the oversized hood—and he’d have to be, right?—they might not be able to see much.
Soon, though, a flurry of excitement ripples through the crowd. More and more people pull out their phones, as if we’re about to witness a moment that will go down in pop culture history. And maybe we are—but Lauren and I are in the minority, neither of us even attempting to capture the moment.
I just want to see it with my own eyes.
I want to see him with my own eyes.
I don’t truly believe it’s happening until the gondola doors open and he steps out.
Time slows as he lowers his thick, black hood. He pulls off his knit hat, too, shaking out the wavy hair that no one but me currently associates with him—everyone else is used to the bleached-blond highlights of eight years ago, no doubt, short and spiky and gelled within an inch of its life.
Whispers build to murmurs, everyone frozen and unsure what to make of Jett Beckett 2.0. They watch as he scans the crowd. He’s nervous—I can tell by his tight smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
As soon as he spots me, though, he relaxes, his eyes lighting up. A handful of people glance over their shoulders, trying to figure out what— who —he’s seen.
Before they turn their full attention my way, though, Tyler clears his throat. The whispers fall silent.
“Um… hi, everyone,” he starts, with a small wave. “It’s been a while. You might remember me from a band called True North.”
The crowd erupts.
Everyone wants a picture, everyone has a question. They shout at him, voices blending together in cacophony, their collective volume growing louder by the second.
He nods politely at them but keeps his head down as he makes his way toward the crowd—
Toward me .
People move just enough to let him pass but close in around him again as soon as they can. They snap photos and reach out to touch his jacket, still asking so many questions; the television reporter shoves a microphone in his face.
Tyler barely seems to notice.
He’s clearly on a mission, and that mission is me.
“Do you want me to record this moment for you?” Lauren asks, holding up her phone.
I shake my head. “I kind of just want to pretend no one else is here,” I admit. “But on the bright side, I don’t think there will ever be a shortage of footage if I want to relive it.”
By the time Tyler gets to me, all eyes—and cameras—are on us. He takes my face in his gloved hands, which most definitely must have hand warmers inside, and presses his forehead to mine.
“What happened?” I say quietly, wrapping my arms around him. My voice is so low I’m not sure even Tyler can hear me, but it’s the closest we’re coming to privacy right now. “I thought you were going to disappear again?”
“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Everything you said on the mountain this morning—and then your text—” His thick brows furrow. “It was the clarity I needed. I don’t want to be the sort of person who runs when I’m afraid things will be too hard to face. I had good reasons the first time, and I’m not sorry I did it. But this time—today—”
I feel his rib cage expand as he takes a deep breath.
“This time,” he goes on, “I wouldn’t have been running for any good reasons. And I would be missing out on—on this . On you.” His hands move gently, fingers finding their way up into my hair. “I know we only just came into each other’s lives recently, but you’ve changed mine, Alix. I thought I was fine before I met you, but now—now I see what I’ve been missing. You make me laugh more than anyone. You weren’t starstruck when you figured out what I’d been hiding, and you never used my secret for your own gain, even though we both know you could have, and—”
His voice breaks, but he’s said enough.
My phone vibrates in my jacket pocket; we’re pressed together so close that I know he feels it, too. I take a quick glance, see a message from Tyler that apparently took its sweet time to come through: I’m on my way down. Meet me at the bottom?
“I got your text,” I say, and he laughs.
“Kiss her already!” someone yells from the crowd, setting off a wave of laughter.
We’re already so close: it doesn’t take much to close the distance. I tilt my head just enough, and he meets me halfway. His lips are chapped from the cold, but I don’t care—I only hope it doesn’t hurt him.
My worries melt away as he kisses me, sending dueling sensations of heat and chills coursing through my body. His hands tighten in my hair, and I wish, really wish, that we weren’t surrounded by a crowd of onlookers right now.
Screw it , I think, as he continues to kiss me in front of the entire world. Let them watch .
When he finally pulls away, he only has eyes for me.
“It’s weird when you’re famous,” he says, not realizing—or not caring—how many people are hanging on his every word. “Everyone thinks they know you, everyone has an opinion. Everyone wants to control you and use you and they start to forget you’re an actual person. But I… just… I don’t know. I was just thinking about how long I sat back and let everyone believe what they wanted to believe. After we talked, I thought a lot about how I could continue to let that happen—at the expense of actually living my life—or I could choose to finally take control of my own story. It doesn’t have to be like it was before.”
I tuck his hair behind his ears, search his eyes for any sign that he might regret this, but he’s fearless. Determined. Brave.
We might both have uphill battles from here, dealing with the fallout, but life isn’t perfect. Life is messy and hard and complicated. Even if you go to great lengths to outrun it, to completely reinvent yourself like Tyler did, it will almost always catch up eventually.
But neither of us will have to work through it alone this time: we can face it together, the good and the bad and the shady. And that will be worth it.
“I’m done, Alix,” he says, pressing one more kiss to my lips. “I’m done hiding.”
Hundreds of thousands of eyes could be on us right now, maybe millions.
In this moment, the only ones that matter are his.
“Welcome back,” I say, and he grins.
The world is about to find out exactly what they’ve been missing.