Page 77 of Peppermint Bark

He shifted so we were lined up nose-to-nose like a mirror. “Only if you promise we’ll talk every week, and you’ll be waiting at the airport when I come home.”

“Where else would I be?”

He hooked his pinkie around mine and we both kissed our thumbs. Before he let go, he recited his favorite Scripture passage from the book of Ruth, “Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.”

Somehow even in this drafty attic, I woke up sweaty from Alex’s chest against my back and his arm slung over me under layers of blankets. He’d dragged me so close that we were huddled onto his twin mattress, shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip. Stifled by insulated heat and dormant memories, I slid out of our makeshift king, grabbed my clothes, and headed for the shower to get my head on straight.

I hadn’t lied to Mallory in the truck yesterday; I hadn’t expected to like him this much. Sure, I’d been attracted to him right away, but he kept surprising me: the apple slicing, the apology burritos, the movie cuddles, the detailed notes. He was the perfect Snickerdoodle: crispy outside, soft inside.

When he came upstairs last night, I shelved my tendency to overthink and embraced Mallory’s advice: ‘Have fun, be safe, guard your heart, and don’t expect forever.’ I tried to keep things casual: teasing him with a silly Christmas song, purposely not kissing him, then offering a blowjob without expecting anything in return. What guy says no to that?

Then he’d stopped, right on the verge. ‘You first, darling, please.’ He'd come prepared with lube, pausing so I could get there. And when I hadn’t been able to hold back my moans, he hadn’t just muffled me. No, his desperate kisses didn’t stop even after he came.

How was I supposed to stay casual when he acted like that?

But he knew how to keep it casual, I guess. He’d called sex ‘utilitarian.’ He’d made me promise not to fall in love with him as if he’d foreseen this exact circumstance. Had he been burned before by women who shared his bed and expected him to share his heart?

After drying off and getting dressed, I went to the kitchen, where Helen was flipping pancakes. Tears sprang to her eyes and she left the stove to wrap me in her arms and whisper, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Last night, we heard you two,” I felt a wave of horror at which moans and gasps may have carried, “laughing.”

Oh thank God.

“I haven’t heard Alex’s laugh in so long, I was starting to wonder if he still could. I’ve been worried about the two of you, how it will …” she squeezed me tighter. “His laugh was the best Christmas present a mother could ask for.”

Mallory entered and pried me out of Helen’s embrace. Kate styled Mal’s hair into two braids to keep it away from her face under her helmet on the slopes, then gestured for me next.

Alex’s shadow darkened the door frame. I caught a half-second hesitation before he confidently crossed the room, brushed his lips along my temple, tugged on the finished braid, and said, “Very cute, darling,” before continuing towards the coffeemaker.

Kate’s hands froze in my hair. Helen’s eyebrows shot up. Mallory’s gaze flew over my shoulder to Kate as she mouthed, ‘Darling?’

Mallory recovered first. “This isn’t kindergarten, you shouldn’t pull on a girl’s braids.”

“How else will she know that I like her?” he grinned, then faked out Mallory to tug on hers before swooping in to grab a pancake instead. “Let’s go, slowpoke!” he yelled while exiting the kitchen. Always the competitor, Mallory chased, ready to jump on his back like a monkey to slow him down.

Kate secured my second braid and then leaned close so Helen couldn’t hear. “He’s way more pleasant when he gets laid.” I flushed to my hairline, which she took as confirmation. “Have fun today. Don’t fall too hard.”

Pretty sure she wasn’t talking about skiing.

At the mountain, after teasing Alex about whether they took AARP for his day pass on the blue square trails, Mallory left us for the black diamonds.

As the ski lift ascended, heat ignited where our thighs touched until we arrived at the summit. The snow crunched beneath my boots as he wrapped an arm around my waist and we joined the eager lineup. We shuffled forward in line and I tightened my bindings, then appreciated the breathtaking panorama, the snow-draped peaks lit by the morning sun.

Last year with Bruce, I’d been a nervous wreck about glimpsing a member of my estranged family, afraid that I’d be recognized and outed. This year, on this same trail, I still scanned faces … but instead of fearing my brothers’ tall, lean frames and hazel eyes, I felt curious.

What if I looked so different that they overlooked me?

Or what if they recognized me, and I looked happy?

What if they finally saw their sister, tucked under the arm of the hottest man on the mountain? That would be the ultimate comeuppance: to prove that I could find somebody who knew who I was and still wanted me.

Even if it was only for a few days.

As I looked above the ski trails, a hawk soared over the snow-capped Adirondacks. The sun warmed my face and a breeze caressed my skin.

Pressure formed in my chest. My poles weren't sturdy enough to grip tightly. I tried to breathe deeper but the air felt too cold in my lungs.

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