“See?” Kai says. “Now we can actually go somewhere. Hit the gas, old man.”
“I’m fifty-two. That’s not old.”
“You drive like you’re eighty.”
“And you drive like you’re trying to die young,” Donovan adds. “We’ve all been in a car with you, Kai. It’s terrifying.”
“It’s exhilarating.”
“It’s illegal in most states.”
I laugh, and Grant glances at me with a smile. “They’re always like this,” he says.
“I’ve noticed.”
The drive takes about thirty minutes. The highway winds down the mountain, and I watch the elevation markers change as we descend. The snow gets less deep the lower we go, but it’s still everywhere. Coating the power lines. Covering abandoned cars on the shoulder. Making everything look clean and untouched.
Kai keeps up a running commentary from the back seat about Grant’s driving, Donovan’s bad taste in music, and whether we should stop for coffee too.
“We have coffee at home,” Donovan points out.
“But not town coffee. It’s different.”
“Coffee is coffee.”
“That’s offensive to coffee.”
Grant catches my eye and mouths,“This is my life.”
I’m grinning so hard my face hurts.
The town appears gradually. One gas station, then a few houses, then suddenly we’re on Main Street with its brick buildings and Christmas decorations.
Someone’s strung lights across the road. Every shop window has wreaths and fake snow. There’s a massive Christmas tree in the town square, decorated with what looks like handmade ornaments.
It’s charming. Picturesque. The kind of small mountain town that exists on postcards.
Grant finds parking near the ice cream shop, and we pile out into the cold.
The temperature is brutal. I pull my scarf tighter and shove my gloved hands into my pockets. My breath comes out in thick clouds, and the cold makes my lungs ache.
“Remind me why we’re getting ice cream when it’s fifteen degrees outside?” Donovan asks.
“Because Samantha wants ice cream,” Grant says simply, like that explains everything.
Which, apparently, it does.
Mountain Creamery is warm inside, packed with locals escaping the cold. The smell of waffle cones and sugar hits me immediately.
Behind the counter, a girl who can’t be more than twenty looks up and does a visible double take when she sees us.
More specifically, when she sees Grant, Donovan, and Kai.
“Mr. Hale,” she says, flustered. “Hi. I didn’t know you were coming to town.”
“Just picking up some ice cream, Emma.” Grant’s smile is polite. “How’s your mother?”
“Good. She’s good. Thanks for asking.” Emma’s eyes dart between all of us, clearly trying to figure out who I am and why I’m with three men.
