Her laugh is quiet, real. And damn if it doesn’t do something to me—like unspool something tight in my chest I didn’t even know was there.
We keep hauling boxes, lamps, random crap labeled “MISC: HANDLE WITH CARE (PROBABLY WINE).” Every trip feels like a test of self-control. At one point she slips on the last step and my hand shoots out on instinct, gripping her waist to steady her.
Her body goes still against mine. For one heartbeat, she’s right there. Her soft curves pressed against me, steady breath, eyes flicking up to meet mine.
“Got you,” I murmur.
“Thanks.” It comes out breathy, almost a whisper.
I let go too fast. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She clears her throat, looking anywhere but at me. “I just… must be the altitude.” She laughs.
“Yeah, it takes a minute,” I say. “You'll acclimate soon enough.”
I drop the box near the wall and glance around. The place is small but clean. High ceilings, big windows. It’s the kind of place that loves to advertise as ‘luxury’ when the only thing that’s luxury is the price you pay.
She catches me looking. “It’s not much yet, but I’ll make it homey once the boxes stop threatening to collapse on me.”
“Looks good.” I meet her gaze for a second too long, then turn back toward the door. “Come on, let’s finish before the snow gets worse.”
By the time we unload the last damn box, my shoulders are screaming and Maddie’s declaring herself “deceased.” She sprawls across an air mattress in the corner while Hailey digs through a take-out menu pile on the counter.
“Pizza sound okay?” she asks, cheeks flushed, hair messy from her beanie.
“Always,” I say, dropping onto a folding chair. “My treat.”
Maddie waves from the floor. “Extra cheese. And one of those brownie things if they’ve got it.”
Hailey nods, thumbs flying over her phone, and for a second it feels like déjà vu. She and Maddie side by side as kids, the same way they used to be in my parents’ kitchen.
She glances up. “You want anything special?”
“Nah, I’ll eat anything.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m back with the pizza and a case of beer. Maddie’s halfway through a slice before it’s cooled, still narrating every random thought that passes through her brain like she has since she was a kid.
“So,” Maddie says, wiping sauce from her fingers, “what’s the verdict, big brother? Is the building solid or will it fall over with the next snowstorm?”
“Apartment’s good,” I say. “Nice view. Solid bones. Needs a new door hinge.” I withhold the comments about the overpriced features this place claims is luxury. I remember what it was like having my first place that was all my own.
Hailey perks up. “You noticed that too?”
I shrug. “Cheap hardware. Easy fix.”
“Oh, I’m sure I can just tell the super.”
Maddie groans, rolling over on the air mattress. “See, Hailey? I told you, give him five minutes in a room and he’ll find something to repair. He’s basically a real-life Bob the Builder.”
“Well, I appreciate it. Thank you,” Hailey says, folding her legs beneath her.
Maddie stretches her arms overhead followed by an audible yawn. “I’m going to take a shower and then call it a night.” She loops her arms around me and plants a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”
“Good night, Mads.” I hug her back and watch as she trudges down the hallway.
“It doesn’t feel real yet,” Hailey admits quietly after a few seconds. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and be back in Chicago, late for work, with my coffee maker breaking again.”
“Give it a week,” I say. “Denver’ll get under your skin. It’s slower than Chicago but you’ll fall in love with it.”
