Snowed Under (Aspen Peaks #2)

7. Madeline

E ven as I put both kids to bed that night, I still chuckled to myself, thinking of Cooper’s offer. Or question? Or whatever you would consider it.

Brushing Piper’s teeth, helping Charlie wrap up homework, starting a grocery pickup order for later this week. No matter what I did, I found myself smiling at the ridiculous notion. A man like Cooper with a woman like me. And on top of it, Charlie and Pipes being his kids. The thought made me giggle again.

If nothing else, Cooper had unknowingly brought a smile to my face on a day that I desperately needed it. I could be grateful for that.

As soon as I had a half-asleep Piper tucked into her bed—listening to “Colors of the Wind” instrumental on repeat—I slowly backed out the door and closed it. A deep sigh left my chest when I couldn’t hear any rustling, and she hadn’t broken into tears. Success. This was now what success looked like in my eyes.

“May?” Charlie whispered behind me, and I jumped, clutching my collarbone. What is it with these kids constantly scaring me? Was this an every kid thing or just one of those fun traits that only I got to experience?

“Yes, buddy?”

“Can…I sleep in your bed tonight?”

I sighed. Neither kid had slept all that well since I’d had them. Charlie’s psychologist and Piper’s speech therapist both assured me this was more than normal. That kids who lost their parents often clung to the next best thing, which, pity for them, was me. Nevertheless, I knew he couldn’t sleep in my bed forever. Habits had to be broken eventually.

“No, bud.” His shoulders dropped and his eyelashes lowered, pulling at every bit of my heartstrings. So, I compromised.

“But I’ll lay with you in your bed until you go to sleep, all right?”

He nodded, and I followed him back to his room, which was covered in ski posters and sports memorabilia that I didn’t understand. There were two framed pictures on his dresser: One of him, his dad, his mom, and baby Piper the day he first met her. The other of him, Piper, and me at Christmas. The difference in his smile in the two photos was night and day.

Charlie and I lay side by side on the twin-size mattress, him under the blanket and me on top of it, then I wrapped my arm around his neck.

His breathing was unsteady, and his chest shook like he was moments away from crying. So, I said, “Do you want to hear a story?”

He was nine years old. Maybe he was too old for story time and whatnot, but he’d never once denied me when I asked. So, I’d ask until the day he told me no. And even then, I’d probably ask some more.

Charlie nodded.

“Do you want funny, sad, or weird?”

“Funny.” He smiled at me, and I thought for a moment before picking one.

Will and I were closer than most siblings. We rarely argued, we always shared, and we cared about each other until the very end. Our parents joked and said God had blessed them with two angels for kids. I thought it was more so that God knew he would take Will from me early, so he let us have the best memories we could for the short time we had.

“One time your dad and I went to a…friend’s house”—a party—“and he ate too many hot dogs.” Or drank too much beer. “We were sitting under this big deck with a couple friends.” Who’d also had way too much to drink. “And he was all delirious…from eating too much. So, when someone on the deck started calling his name, he looked up and said ‘God, is that you?’”

We both burst into fits of giggles, and he turned away from me, facing the window that looked out at the snowy mountaintop. Or maybe facing his dad’s signed baseball jersey where it hung on the wall—as if he had been some world-famous player when he was in high school. Confident little thing.

“Hey, May,” Charlie whispered. “Can we go get hot dogs tomorrow night?”

I sniffled through my laugh and decided hotdogs sounded incredible. “Yeah, bud. We can.”

When his breathing steadied out and his movement slowed, I sat up and watched over my sleeping nephew with messy blond hair and long eyelashes just like my brother.

Maybe life was entirely unfair for not letting me have him a little longer, but maybe times like this made up for it.

When I was certain both kids wouldn’t need me, I slipped out of Charlie’s room and went straight to my own bedroom. I climbed into my fresh sheets and pulled my white comforter up to my chin before grabbing my phone from where it was charging on the nightstand. As soon as it lit up, practically blinding me, the first thing I saw was a text from Olive.

Olive: Just checking in. How’s everyone’s favorite aunt doing? :)

I smiled at the message. I met Olive through my brother a few years ago, when one of their mutual friends started a podcast and hired her. Through Olive, I met Finn, who convinced me to sign Charlie up for ski lessons to help distract him from his parents’ passing. After Will died, Olive and I got closer. We bonded over how incredibly awful her family was and how mentally checked out mine was. Olive and Finn were the only real friends I had. The only ones who’d stuck around after everything. The deaths, the broken engagement, the kids. Those two were nothing if not persistent. They were the first friends that, although Will did introduce me to them, I made on my own. Kept them on my own too.

Me: Trying desperately not to fall asleep so I can enjoy some actual me time. How is everyone’s favorite pregnant lady doing?

Olive: Large and in charge.

Me: Sounds about right.

Olive: Sooo are you busy this weekend?

Me: That seems to be a popular question this week.

Olive: Really?

I considered telling her about Cooper’s proposition but decided against it. It meant nothing, and sharing it would probably turn it into a something.

Me: Long story, but no, not really. I work Saturday morning during Charlie’s lesson, but other than hanging out with the kids and some schoolwork, that’s it.

Olive: Want to go to dinner with me and Finn?

I loved going out with them, really. But, when your closest, and only, friends were a couple, it usually meant a lot of turning a blind eye to him groping her in the corner of a bar.

Me: Third wheeling doesn’t sound ideal now.

Olive: Actually, I have another friend coming too. He’s a really nice guy. I think you’d like him.

I almost laughed out loud. Of course she had someone else coming. She and my mom were each conspiring to get me “back out there.” The problem wasn’t that I didn’t want to date. It had been a long time since I’d felt a lover’s caress, and the last time I had, it was my ex, and the thought of him now made me nauseous. The problem was that I had higher priorities. And popping out more children—according to my mother—or letting loose a little—according to Olive—were not on the list.

Me: You sound like my mom. I can’t date anyone seriously right now, though :(

Olive: This is the total opposite of serious. It’s just us going to get dinner and maybe some drinks after. ZERO expectations whatsoever. I just want to get you out of the house!!

I sighed, looking down at the mound of laundry next to me on the bed—perfectly shaped like another human being—then over to the half-eaten bag of chocolates on my nightstand.

Me: I could probably get out of the house…

Olive: Then come with me! It’ll be like girls’ night, but with a couple extras. Come on, I’m way too pregnant for you to say no to me.

Me: I guess, but I mean it when I say no expectations.

I could agree to a single night out, a girls’ night especially. But I couldn’t agree to any kind of date. Not a real one, anyway.

Olive: No expectations at all.