Page 19 of Falling Like Snow

“Agreed.”

“We should do it again.”

I turn my head to face him. “Agreed.”

We stand with matching smiles. Asher pulls the sled up the hill while I trail behind, gasping for breath because I am in no shape to be trudging up snowy hills in heavy boots and thick layers of clothes.

We ride down together several more times, taking turns sitting in the front, before I grab the saucer I brought with me.

“I think I’m ready to go alone,” I tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“You only live once, Ash.”

Asher takes the saucer from me and sets it on the ground, keeping it in place with his boot. “You only die once too, but okay, hop on.”

I sit on the sled and cross my legs.

“Holding on?” he asks.

I grip the edges of the sled. “Yep.”

“All right. I’m going to give you a big push.” Asher puts both hands on my back.

“Perfect. Let’s do it.”

He runs forward and shoves me hard until he falls to his knees, and I fly down the hill, getting air on takeoff.

The sled glides over the packed snow at a wicked speed, wind whipping my hair and howling in my ears. The saucer spins so I’m facing backward; Asher grows smaller in the distance. A scream catches in my throat as I head toward the far tree line to the right, continuing to spin—just before I hear a frantic voice nearby shout, “Watch out!”

A second later I’m nearly knocked out as I collide with something solid. Then it falls on top of me, racking every frozen bone in my body.

Did I seriously just take down a freaking tree?

“Fuck, are you okay?” a deep voice says. I open my eyes, having apparently closed them on impact. The weight on my chest lifts as a guy climbs off me. Disoriented, I pull myself back into a sitting position, grimacing at the ache in my back and arm. He squats in front of me.

Micah Cook.

He pushes his light brown hair out of his concerned, piercing green eyes.

“Damn, you have pretty irises,” I blurt.

I slap my hand over my mouth.

He laughs. “Um, thanks…” My cheeks flare as he offers me his hand. I let him pull me up. “Are you okay?” he asks again.

“Considering my filter has clearly stopped working, I’m guessing I probably have a concussion. But otherwise, yeah, I think so.” I brush the snow off my pants and look him over, being sure not to comment aloud on his strong jawline or cute cleft chin. “Are you okay? I can’t believe I just took out our star hockey forward. If you’re injured, everyone is going to hate me.”

He laughs again, wiping the snow off his puffy black coat. “You haven’t made any enemies, don’t worry. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Okay, good.” I search for my saucer. “I have no idea where—”

“I think it went flying into those bushes.” He hitches his thumb behind him. “I’ll grab it for you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can—”

But he’s already maneuvering into the leafless brambles.