Page 52 of The Love Dose
I tell myself to stop going down that rabbit hole, to let in a little bit of joy.
The push-and-pull of my emotions is more than I can bear right now. I came here for respite not more drama.
Calvin has, at most, one day left here. I don’t want to spend it mulling over unanswerable questions. As the image of a smiling Bernard fades away, I tumble into a blessedly dreamless slumber.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Calvin
Hey, come look!” I say, knocking on Caroline’s door. I’m trying to keep my tone upbeat and causal. I’m terrified she will have the same post-kiss reaction as before. Namely, pushing me away.
She opens the bedroom door in her pajama top, hair unbrushed, and sexy as all heck.
“What time is it?” she asks, rubbing her eyes.
“Ten-fifteen.”
“What?”
I show her my phone and she blinks rapidly in disbelief. “I never sleep this late.”
“It’s the magic of Vermont air. Have you looked outside yet?”
She shakes her head.
I walk past her and note the unmade bed. My bed. I’m using the guest room. Sadly.
Caroline approaches the window. “Wow!”
The ground is cloaked in a thick, untouched layer of snow that sparkles like a field of diamonds under the pale winter sun. The sky is a deep blue, the color of Aunt Pearl's spring cornflowers. Footprints from yesterday have vanished, leaving the world freshly frosted and pristine. Snow-draped trees stand tall and still, their branches heavy with a fresh dusting. Across the road, a lone deer cautiously steps through the drifts, its breath visible in the crisp air. It’s a winter wonderland.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, a look of awe on her face. For some reason, I’m proud. Proud of my hometown for offering this gift to my friend.
We stand in reverential silence until I break it.
“Must be close to two feet with drifts double that.”
She stays quiet, worrying me. I go to the closet and rummage through, finding ski pants and gloves, a pair of thick socks, and my old ski jacket. “Here,” I say, handing them to her. “Put these on.”
She lifts a brow. I can’t tell if it’s disdain for the old attire. At least I pulled her from her thoughts.
“Um, I have clothes.”
“You’ll need these for what we’re doing. Trust me.”
She grins, making my heart leap. “And what exactlyarewe doing?” she asks.
“Remember our Scrabble wager?”
“Which no one won.”
I nod. “Which means webothhave a job to do. I’m feeling generous so I’ll forgo the underwear angels. Get dressed. See you downstairs in five.”
“Five?” she touches her hair subconsciously then nods. “I can do five.”
I’m impressed. She’s going with the flow. I leave her to it, not bothering to hide the skip in my step.
Ten minutes later, we are outside on what was once my lawn. It's now a trail for cross-country skiing. Each step leaves a crisp imprint, the soft crunch echoing in the serene stillness. Caroline stops to catch snowflakes, drifting from the evergreens, onto her tongue.
