Page 92 of Shifting Gears

There’s no specific implication in Owen’s voice, but Nora’s mind jumps to the most obvious conclusion. The idea of it makes her feel like the floor has disappeared under her feet.

“Is she…seeing someone?” Nora asks quietly, her stomach turning even as she says it.

She’s spared too much stress by Mila’s reaction—a loud snort that erupts as soon as the words leave Nora’s mouth.

Mila turns red when all eyes turn to her.

“What?” Mila says, pouring herself another drink from the communal pitcher. “It’s a hilarious question. Dani’s still too hung up on you to even look at anyone else.”

The relief that floods Nora is like a drug. It assuages a fear she’s had since the day she left—that her perception of their relationship this summer had been more one-sided than she remembers.

“Then where could she possibly—”

Before she’s even finished her thought, Nora knows exactly where Dani is. She’s at the same place Nora’s idle daydreams have taken her in every spare moment since September, but Nora has no idea how she’s going to get there. Her Porsche doesn’t even have winter tires.

“Is there any way to get to the old tree house out on 3rd Line with this much snow?” Nora asks suddenly.

She gets three blank faces.

“The tree house?” Ryan says, frowning over the rim of his beer glass. “Why would you need to get out there? I haven’t been since we were kids.”

Owen seems to be coming to an understanding more quickly than the rest. He’s already standing up, grabbing a bulky helmet from under the table, and tossing it to Nora. “I’ve got my sled. I can get us there.”

“Hey!” Ryan protests as Nora holds the helmet with unsure hands. “That’s my helmet! How am I supposed to get home?”

“I’m coming back for you, sweetie. Calm down.” Owen stoops to give his boyfriend a solid kiss on the cheek, and Ryan smiles complacently as Owen ushers a confused Nora outside.

“I don’t see what a sled is going to do for us,” Nora says. Owen puts his helmet on and raises the visor—he’s led them to a huge, shiny machine at the rear of the parking lot, and Nora shortly understands the mix-up. “Ah. Unless it has a big motor on it?”

Owen laughs, swinging a leg over the snowmobile’s seat and gunning the engine. “Sure does. Hop on!”

Nora spends the next fifteen minutes clinging to his back for dear life as he rips through town at a frankly alarming pace. The ride through the forest is possibly even more terrifying than the streets, but at the end of it they’re emerging onto a field that’s familiar even covered in snow.

The tree house that holds Nora’s fondest memories is framed by bluish moonlight, making the new-fallen snow glitter like diamond dust. Once Owen has cut the engine, the silence is what strikes Nora even more than the vista—she’s used to this field being a symphony of birdsong and crickets. In the winter stillness, the silence seems to echo.

Dani’s truck is under the tree as usual, this time with the addition of a plow blade attached to the front—it’s parked in the exact spot where they sat on Dani’s tailgate the first time. Where they had their first kiss on a picnic blanket, and just under where Nora carved her name indelibly into the wood and sealed Dani’s grip on her heart.

There’s a dark figure sitting on the tree house platform and staring up at the moon, legs swinging slowly in the cold air. Nora can make out the bulky shape of her winter wear—she’s not wearing a coat, but a thick sweater under a pair of sturdy brown canvas overalls.

Despite the noise of the sled approaching, Dani’s silhouette doesn’t look away from the sky.

“You can go, Owen,” Nora says, pulling Ryan’s helmet off and handing it over. She fusses with her hair a little, but she’s sure it’s still a mess. “I’ve got it.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Owen revs the engine and zooms away, and Nora takes her first step off the packed track the sled left and toward Dani.

Her foot immediately sinks into several feet of soft, powdery snow.

Nora winces. Her boots are unsuited to real winter—the snow seeps into them immediately. But Dani is right there. The aching, familiar shape of her makes Nora take another step. And then another.

When Nora is finally close enough to be heard, with her impractical boots completely full of melted snow, she stands her ground despite the metaphorical and literal coldness of her feet.

“Dani?”

At first, Nora isn’t sure if Dani has even heard her. There’s no reaction, just the slow swinging of Dani’s boots and the smoke of her breath in the cold air. Like this is something she’s used to, being called down and ignoring the caller.

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