Page 27 of Out of the Cold

Gabe had started to doubt the plan within the first few minutes of the hike. He wanted Ricky to love it like he loved it, to experience the peace and freedom of the trail, but maybe he was trying too hard, pushing Ricky into something that wasn’t his thing.

“This was probably a dumb idea,” he said, stopping in the middle of the trail.

Ricky shrugged. “Nah, we’re here anyway. It’s cool.”

That was Ricky, always up for trying something new. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to hurt Gabe’s feelings. Despite the fact that he had never been anywhere near a mountain, he made it to the summit without much difficulty. His pride in the achievement was obvious. For a good part of the journey back down, he joked about how easy it was, how Gabe was getting old and slow.

God, he’d have done anything for that kid.

How could a person be there one minute and gone the next? It still didn’t make any sense.

He stood so abruptly, the rocking chair careened backwards and hit the wall. Going into his room, he shucked his clothes and pulled on running shorts and a shirt, then tugged on his sneakers. A few minutes later, he slammed through the front door and set off on a run, the chilly air slapping his face and clearing his lungs. Heading for the trail, he took the incline without any warm-up, wanting to punish his muscles, test his lungs. He ran until he couldn’t think of anything but the rhythm of his breath and his feet pounding the trail.

His mother talked about coping skills. Well, this was his. It would have to do.

Chapter Six

With Gabriel’s warningabout her tires on repeat in her brain, she bit the bullet and spent nearly four hundred dollars on new all-weather tires—which she could use anywhere she went—and snow chains she could sell before she left town.

Next she stopped at a Goodwill store, where she scored a pink winter coat and matching snow pants—she was pretty sure they were meant for a teenage girl—plus a few sweaters.

For most people, it wouldn’t have been anything to write home about, but in her book, it was a triumph.

Before she left town, she did a search on her phone to see what the internet had to say about German shepherds and snow. If she needed to put booties on her dog, or otherwise protect her from the elements, she might as well know now. But fortunately for Hilde’s dignity, she was literally bred for the snow.

That made one of them.

The weather turned the very next day, going from mild to cold with freezing rain and sleet. She and Hilde took their usual walks along the road, their heads down as they fought their way through, and the dreary weather inspired the scenes she wrote of Chicago in winter.

Maggie knocked on Mick’s door, all too aware she’d never gone to his house before. They’d been to his family’s butcher shop, and he’d walked her countless times to her own lodgings. But a girl didn’t go knocking on a man’s door, throwing herself in his way.

Except that was exactly what she was doing.

She heard footsteps, and then the door swung open, revealing one of Mick’s sisters. She had Mick’s dark eyes and wide mouth, but she looked tired. This must be Mary, the older, married sister.

“Can I help you?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

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