Page 26 of Going Down

“Come here and say hello to your brother’s girl.”

Her straightforward directive makes me blush.

“Hello, brother’s girl.” Gatlin shakes my hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

The big blue eyes and the wink must be a family trait.

I revel in the introduction since I won’t be Dash’s anything for much longer.

“How can I help?” Gatlin and Cadence flew in this morning and it’s a thirty-hour drive back to Texas. The least I can offer is to lend a hand to get them on their way faster.

For her safety, we keep Capote inside her cat carrier while preparing Dash’s trailer. Capote’s cat tower comes down from the rafters. Cadence has a bunch of bungee cords and shows me how to secure the cabinets and tie down anything that’s loose. I find out that the carved spindles on the bed, the ones Dash used to restrain me, actually serve a purpose. They hold on to the mattress so it doesn’t slide off the platform and crash down below.

The tiny house moves as Gatlin uses a power drill on the corner jacks that have kept it stable. Then he pushes the step we’ve used to go in and out away from the sliding door, revealing a set of massive red tire blocks. He tosses the heavy plastic inside, haphazard.

“Are you refinishing these floors?” Cadence scoffs with her hands on her hips.

“They are scuffed from salt and his boots. At some point, Dash’ll have to do it anyhow.”

She squats to inspect a gouge in the wood “I’m doubting he’ll get to it between New Zealand and Colorado. Guess this gives me got a summer project.”

The way she cares about Dash’s little place fills me up. It’s good that he’s got this family.

Gatlin flips the wooden stair upside down. It makes a box and he puts a few larger items inside. Cadence adds the tire blocks from each set of tires. They heft it into the last empty spot it the bed of the truck before closing and locking the matte lid.

The only thing left is hitching the trailer to the truck and connecting the brake lights. It’s taken a fraction of the time I thought it would to get the tiny house road ready. With each passing second, my stomach sinks lower. I’m not ready to say goodbye to Capote or Cadence. I can’t stand that this is the end of Dash and me.

“I want to stop before the highway to put air in the tires.” Gatlin latches a toolbox, loading it into the cab.

I feel Cadence’s hand rubbing circles on my back. It doesn’t strike me that tears are falling down my cheeks until Gatlin turns from the truck. He approaches me, taking me into his arms the way his brother would.

“He has that effect on all of us, Sugar. We wish he could stay put. But it’s not Dash. Forcing it on him would change the person we love. Take it from me, it’s not easy letting my big brother go.”

Like we’re family, Gatlin uses his thumbs to wipe the wetness from my face. He smiles and pulls an envelope from his back pocket.

“Dash left this for you. Wait to open it. I’m supposed to report back on moving this monstrosity. It’ll kill him if I have to tell him you were crying when we pulled away.”

I agree, holding the envelope in my shaky hand. “Take good care of Capote?”

“I will send you pictures every day,” Cadence says, and I believe her.

Blowing out a shaky breath, I give the kitten some love before putting her back in her carrier on the seat.

Then I thank Cadence with one last hug, deciding it’s better if I pull out before they do. It’s going to be tough enough driving past the parcel of land knowing this is the place I shared with Dash.

He opened my eyes and my heart. However, I’m not certain if my life will get any better than it was these past few months—laughing and living in the moment—even though I’m smart enough to recognize the emotions of letting go are the main reason behind why I’m feeling this way.

On autopilot, my Jeep drives back to the mountain. It’s still colder right now with the breezes at the top of the peak. I lace up my hiking boots, snag my red Ski Patrol jacket from the back seat, and put Dash’s letter in the inside pocket.

Unhurried, I walk past the silent snow blowing machines and the uncovered boxes, ramps and jumps sitting on the dead-yellow-brown grass. The grounds keeping staff and maintenance will pull those into storage soon, replacing them with different ones used by the mountain bikers. Seasons change, but there’s a rhythm to New England that keeps me centered. The snow will fall again once the gold and red leaves do.

At the top, I make a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn, viewing each quiet slope of the abandoned resort. It’s so peaceful up here. I may not have the same big family as Dash does, but the mountains keep me rooted in what’s important in my life.

I find a dry rock that’s been invisible, covered in a blanket of white for months, and sit down. Taking the envelope out, I open Dash’s gift. That’s what this is, something tangible to remember him by. There are two papers inside.

I scrunch my nose at the first. It’s the Snoopy saying that hung from his cork board. The pup’s nose is to the sky. I haven’t cracked a fortune cookie today and know this one is meant to be mine when I see the picture behind it.Keep looking up.

I hold up the photograph of the resort in the winter. It’s similar to the one I’d shown Dash the first night he took me home and identical to the view I have right now, just with snow. The lights are on in the lodge. The machines are blowing. Snowflakes sprinkle down like confectionery sugar. Guests, like insects, ride up the lift and glide down the slope.

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