“It’s fun to watch. Some people dress in costumes, and there’s good food too. My parents will probably want us to stop into the gala to show our faces, if you don’t mind,” I say.
“That all sounds good to me, but remember, you don’t have to ask me to do anything. I am your perfect adoring girlfriend for the week, and anything you want or need to do, I’ll be right there with you.”
I eventually stop the car another mile up the road to let us through the gate that blocks off access to my parent’s private driveway.
The house itself is two stories tall—a sturdy log cabin style with black shingles and three stone chimneys spearing upward, visible as we slowly rumble our way down the last hundred yards. Christmas lights fixed to the gutters gleam in the rapidly-dimming golden dusk light, now that the sun has melted against the horizon. A set of winter-weather-ready vehicles are parked out front.
“Is the house as old as the rest of this place?” Henri asks.
“Yeah, three generations. Originally, it was just a few cabins that people would rent. My grandpa was the one who made it into what it is now. My grandma was the first athlete in the family—a downhill skier. She was one of the first women to be in the Olympics for it. She’d come here every year to train, and he made sure to keep improving it so she’d come back.”
“So, who’s the next lucky owner?”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about—” I’m cut off by a neon pink form that launches in front of the car. I slam on the brakes and the vehicle threatens to fishtail on the ice-speckled road. “Shit!” I yell as the world blurs while I wrestle back control of the car. Panic consumes me even after we stop moving.
“I guess I don’t need any coffee to keep me awake through dinner now,” Henri says. Her eyes are flared wide, chest rapidlyrising and falling as she sucks in air, and hands braced on either side of the car.
A thump comes from in front of us as Penelope, a wild smile tearing across her face, slams her hands against the hood of the Subaru.
I shove open my door and stride up to her. “What were you thinking?”
“I knew you wouldn’t hit me.” She crosses her arms defiantly over her sweatshirt-clad chest. Twin braids drape down her back and the baby hairs around her face have been flattened to her face, letting me know she’s recently had a helmet on. Her brown eyes gleam with mischief.
“And what if I did?” I demand.
Penelope grins, stepping around me and closer to the car. “You’d feel really bad and owe me for the rest of your life.”
“Are you sure about that? My life would be a whole lot easier if I didn’t have to worry about—” I try to sayyoubut the word is knocked out of me. The world tilts then goes dark and very cold as I sink and hit the ground.
Did she seriously shove me? Hell no.
I scramble, my fingers met with powdering snow. My hand thrust up into the air, breaking the surface like a zombie in a B-horror film, sending up a flurry of white directly into my eyes.
A car door slams and then Henri calls my name. “Liam!”
“Oh, he’s fine,” Penelope says. “He forgets that his life would also be monumentally boring without me.”
“Pen. I swear to God.” I shove up to my feet and, without thinking, run after my little sister. She leaps just out of reach on those deer-like legs of hers, taunting me. When I get close enough to exact my revenge, she darts away all over again.
Then Henri appears in her thin leggings and sneakers that are already damp from the calf-deep snow she’s shuffling through.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Defending your honor.” She winks. “What’s the plan?”
“We need to block her off on both sides.”
“You got it, baby!” she says. The term of endearment catches me off guard and I nearly trip over nothing and take another tumble into the powder.
“Yeah,baby,come get me.” Penelope mimics a gagging motion, taunting us both.
Five minutes later, Henri and I are panting, her face is nipped red from a mix of cold and exertion, but we’ve closed the gap.
One chance, that’s all we’ve got. I give Henri the slightest nod before I lunge. Penelope jumps to the side, action-movie-bullet-dodging style.
This leaves me hurtling toward Henri, arms outstretched. My hands connect with her shoulders as we go down. Down. Down. Her eyes squeeze shut, bracing for impact.
I shift to land with my hands planted on either side of her head. Her body has cut into the snow, as if she flopped down with the intention of making a snow angel, and I just stay there, hovering. A few strands of her short hair brush her cheeks and I fight back the need to brush them away.
