I catch Charlie's gaze over Emily's shoulder. She's looking at me with an expression I can't quite decode—surprise mixed with something softer, warmer.
The agent efficiently processes the switch, handing me Emily's middle-seat boarding pass while Emily clutches her first class ticket like it’s Willy Wonka's last golden ticket.
"Sebastian," Margaret says, touching my arm. "That was incredibly thoughtful of you."
Richard nods in agreement. "Not many people would give up a first class seat."
"It's nothing," I say, though the approval in their eyes feels surprisingly good. "It's a short flight, and I'd rather sit with Charlie anyway."
Charlie doesn't say anything, but as we check in our bags, she slips her hand into mine threading our fingers and squeezes gently.
"You didn't have to do that," she murmurs.
"I know." I give her a wink.
"We should head to security," Margaret says, checking her watch. "The lines are getting longer."
As we walk to get in line, Charlie and I head towards the coach line and her parents and Emily on the priority side, Emily sidles up beside us. "Nice move with the seat switch," she whispers, just loud enough for Charlie and me to hear. "Very boyfriend-y."
"I try," I murmur back.
"They're totally buying it," Emily says with a wink. "But fair warning—Dad will grill you over dinner tonight."
"I'll be ready."
Charlie exhales slowly beside me, and I give her hand a gentle squeeze. "You okay, Shortcake?" I ask quietly.
She looks up at me, uncertainty flickering across her face. "Yeah. Just... thanks. For doing this."
"Hey." I lower myself and brush my lips against her ear. "We're in this together now. I've got you."
For just a moment, her guard drops, and I see something vulnerable in her eyes—something that makes my chest tighten. Then Emily calls her name, and the moment breaks.
"Come on, lovebirds!" She shouts. "Colorado awaits!"
Charlie rolls her eyes, but there's a small smile on her lips as we follow her family toward security, my hand still holding hers.
"Just... be yourself," I add, surprising myself with the sincerity. "But maybe the version of yourself that doesn't hate me quite so much."
"I don't hate you," she says quietly.
It's not much, but it feels like a victory all the same.
Chapter sixteen
Bash
I've been staring at the same snow-covered pine trees for twenty minutes. Our rental SUV crawls along the winding mountain road, each mile feeling longer than the last.
"Almost there," Richard announces from the driver's seat, the same thing he's said three times in the last hour.
I shift in the backseat, my knee stiffening from sitting too long. Between the 5 AM wake-up after another restless night, the five-hour delay at the airport while they cleared Aspen's runways, and now this crawling drive through fresh powder, I'm beyond done.
"You okay?" Charlie whispers beside me, her shoulder pressed against mine.
"Just ready to stand upright again," I murmur back, flexing my toes inside my boots. "My body wasn't built for sitting this long."
She smiles, a soft smile. "Former pro athlete problems?"
