We stand at the window for a couple more minutes.
“I thought you were some weird hoarder,” she says.
I turn to her. “What?”
“Because of all the stuff.” She gestures back toward the living room. “I didn’t realize these rooms were back here, empty.”
“Well, yeah. I’m fixing them up so I have more space for all the stacks of newspapers I plan to accumulate.”
I love the surprise on her face when she laughs.
“You’re fixingit up yourself?”
Is she impressed?
“Yeah. My brother helps a lot.”
She gestures to the room at large, and the view outside. “This is like a dream.”
Her head tilts up to watch the snow, but I watch her. All she has to do is say the word, and I would sign over the deed to this place in a heartbeat, just give it to her, no questions asked. I’d even finish it first. The words almost come out of their own volition:Take it. It’s yours. But I swallow them down, fully aware she wants nothing from me.
Maybe I’m overcompensating, punishing myself for past behavior when I was a different person. But it’s not just my feelings about myself. It’s about Brie, too. I want her to be happy, want her to have everything she wants in life. Even if none of that includes me.
My throat squeezes tight before I pull myself together. I agree with her. This is like a dream.
I glance out the window. “You must have frigid dreams,” I tease.
She gives a one-shouldered shrug. “I like the cold.”
My brow drops as an involuntary smirk tugs on my mouth. “Didn’t you say you left your old school because you didn’t like the cold?”
Her eyes widen, and for a moment I think I’ve touched a sore spot. But then her mouth drops in mock-indignation, the edges curving upward playfully. It’salmosta smile. For me.
“I didn’t leave because I don’tlikethe cold,” she argues. “It’s because winter was endless up there. Last year, there were flurries inMay. May! At that point, it isn’t cozy anymore, it’s hell.”
“Hell?” I raise my eyebrows.
“A frozen hell,” she amends. “Down here, May is shortsweather.” She pauses. “Then again, there was that one asshole who wore shorts even in the snow.”
“Chad Harris.”
“Oh my gosh!” She shoves my arm and I flex on instinct as the ice between us begins to thaw. “Yes! Exactly like him. Where is that guy now?”
“In jail.” Her eyes go wide. Keeping my tone grave, I add, “For public nudity. Eventually he thought even the shorts were too much.”
She cackles, and I’ve never been higher.
“Come on,” I say.
“Where?”
“If you like the cold so much, let’s go outside.”
CHAPTER 29
BRIE
Snow floats delicately downfrom the sky. From the way the property is perched just above town, I have a great view of Blue Ridge. The clocktower downtown, the town square, and the bowling alley near the outskirts, with its lone, unfortunately-shaped pin on the roof thrusting into the sky.
