Snowed Under (Aspen Peaks #2)

17. Madeline

C ooper: whats your email

Last night was…unexpected to say the least. I’d come home from the drive-in on shaky legs, with a fluttered heartbeat. I’d zombie walked down the hallway and straight to my room, flopping on the bed face down.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t gone out alone with a guy in a long time, or maybe it was just because Cooper had that natural magnetism. Whatever it was, it had me laid out on my bed like a starfish, replaying the night until I fell asleep, dreaming of first kisses, apple cider, and cold winter nights on heated car seats.

After we’d agreed to stay at the theater, decidedly ignoring the film behind us, I learned more about Cooper than I ever thought possible. I learned more about myself than I thought possible.

I learned that he was closer to his grandfather than anyone else in the world. That they used to go skiing together. That Cooper never had to slow down for him. Even in his eighties, the guy could always keep up. I learned that his mom was a nurse before she had him, and that his dad wasn’t in the picture—didn’t get many details there. I also found out that he hates mayonnaise (What’s the point of it? Also, did you know there’s raw egg in that shit?), and that he thinks Oreos should only be eaten if taken apart and devoured in two separate pieces.

We played that game until it turned into less of a game and more like two people talking. Sharing things that I never knew I wanted to share. We didn’t get super deep. We tiptoed around his dad’s absence and my brother’s death, understanding the topics were off-limits. But we talked about our favorite movies and food and desserts, and all the things we loved in life.

I asked him what Charlie was like during lessons. Cooper informed me that he was the star of the show. He was quiet when he needed to be, but when Coop wasn’t teaching, he was off making friends and showing off. “He’s extremely talented,” he said over and over again. Telling me of mute grabs and “bonks,” which I didn’t really understand but which sounded cool. I was happy to celebrate for the kid.

Cooper asked about Piper too, calling her Half-Pint. It was really cute. I told him about her current Slim Jim phase, and how I know every line of Pocahontas start to finish. I also shared that I was pretty sure I had a growing crush on Kocoum, and why in the world did she choose the ugly white guy who, spoiler alert, abandons her in the sequel anyway?

We stayed like that until the lot full of cars emptied and we had to leave.

Truth be told, my favorite part of it was when I crawled into bed, because I thought to myself I have a new friend. A friend who’d kissed me like we were about to take things to the floor, but a friend, nevertheless. Something that felt impossible for me to make these days.

Then, this morning, I’d just finished getting ready to get the kids when I saw a text from him, asking for my email address. That only made my curiosity grow further.

Me: Why?

Cooper: consider it another surprise

I sent him my email address before walking over to the Keurig and setting in a new pod. I turned to the clock on the oven. It was 7:36 am. I still had time to grab the kids and take them to the resort for Charlie’s class at nine, and then Piper could hang out with me while I clocked in for my shift. One thing I hadn’t considered in this arrangement was that if I asked my parents to watch the kids once a week, chances were I wouldn’t get them to babysit any other time. It didn’t exactly make a difference, though. Neither kid seemed to mind hanging out with me at work. Charlie would usually be on the Switch, and there were enough TVs in the place that I could easily entertain Pipes.

I reached for my pastel pink mug with the kids’ handprints painted on it—something I forced them to do in the summer when I was absolutely sick of being stuck in the house and signed us up for pottery classes. Just then, my laptop chimed on the counter, signaling that I had a new email. I bit my lip to catch a smile.

Mug in hand, I sat in front of it and opened a new email from [email protected]. My eyes rolled a little at that, but still, my excitement was there when I opened it.

Madeline,

Last night was great. I’m looking forward to repeating a similar transaction next Friday. Please scroll to see the attached full evaluation.

PS Next time, there will be more than just apple cider and hot pretzels involved.

All the best,

Cooper Graves

My fingers rushed to open the attached document, a PDF file with Madeline Sage’s Personality Evaluation in striking bold font. Just below it, in a smaller size, read Completed by personality professional and expert kisser, Cooper Graves. I snorted at that and then let my eyes fall down to the rest of the PDF.

For the series of multiple-choice questions, here is what we were able to find for Ms. Sage.

Musical choice: Early 2000s playlist. Consisted of Jesse McCartney and some Maroon 5. Took note of some particular foot tapping at “Hey, Soul Sister” by Train.

Film choice: When choosing between Grown Ups and Shawshank Redemption, Madeline chose Grown Ups. Maybe surprising to some, but I know she has quite the twisted sense of humor behind that polite smile.

Food choice: Pizza or hotdogs? She chose pizza. Nothing too shocking there, but what kind of pizza did she prefer? Pepperoni. I am aware that our test subject may consider this choice to be “boring,” but little did she know it was one of the final things I needed in this evaluation.

Last, and, believe me, certainly not least, the kiss. This was a surprising factor on all counts. Still wondering how I pulled that off, but it was what topped off the assessment. A.k.a. sexy and somehow adorable.

Overall evaluation for not-date one: Madeline Sage is everything, and yet nothing, she appears to be. Madeline enjoys a stroll down memory lane. She is nostalgic from time to time. She has an excellent sense of humor and loves the chance to laugh. *Note to self: the chortle laugh is my favorite.* She is a fan of the classics. What she considered boring or dull, I noted, was simply archetypal Madeline. *Another note to self: google that word to make sure it means what I think it means.* She was a classic, herself. Like an incredible vanilla milkshake that’ll rock you to your core or a vintage song that makes you feel like dancing in the kitchen late at night. She hides what a kisser she is behind those kind eyes, little minx. Honorable mention: She has an ex that I would love to have five minutes outside with.

OVERALL: Madeline is the highest level of intriguing, and I am looking forward to my next assessment.

PS Also has an excellent backside.

Scientific peace out,

Coop

I couldn’t make it halfway through without busting out laughing alone in my kitchen. I took pictures of my screen, as if I would ever delete this email, and read it two more times. Classic. He was so stupidly charming, it honestly kind of annoyed me. No wonder he’d lived the life he had, with the experience he had. That amount of flirtation in one body was explosive. He needed a warning sign as much as I needed a security system that would alert me when my heart started beating a little too fast at the thought of him.

My life was too complicated for a relationship. I drilled that into my mind again as I walked to my car and sent a quick text to Cooper.

Me: That was entirely unnecessary but greatly appreciated. I’ll see you at nine.

His reply came instantly.

Cooper: absolutely necessary but glad you appreciated it see you guys soon

I smiled at that and set my phone in the empty cupholder. See? Friends. That was all. Simple, easy, no-strings friendship with a man who kissed like it was his job.

When I pulled up to my parents’ house, a tiny light-blue cottage with white shutters and award-deserving landscaping, Piper’s face was glued to the window. Her mouth was partially open, sticky fingers pressed to the glass and eyes squinting. Trying to see who I was, like the strangest little guard dog. Until I opened my door, waving an enthusiastic hello at her. Then she popped up like an eager meerkat and let out a squeal that I could hear from outside. “MayMay!”

Piper jiggled the locked knob, shrieking random syllables she liked to squish together until my mom came up behind her and opened the door. Tiny, fuzzy sock–covered feet came barreling out into the snow right toward me. I couldn’t even complain about it because every day this kid greeted me like I was coming home to a golden retriever with the zoomies, running circles around me and jumping up my legs.

I bent down, wrapping two arms around her body and lifting her to my hip. “Look at you!” I stuck a hand out and waved it above her head in a flat line. “Did you get taller since yesterday?”

Piper nodded before reaching toward the door again and letting her body go limp in my arms. “Cah-lee. Cah-lee.” She stretched out.

I chuckled and used her momentum to swing her back and forth as we reached the door. “Is Charlie inside?” I asked. Piper nodded with her entire body.

We popped inside, and I dusted the snow off my boots on the harsh mat. In the living room, I could hear my dad shuffling through TV stations in an attempt to find reruns of Family Feud. He liked to watch the ones he already knew the answers to and would pretend like it was the first time he’d seen it. Like some kind of genius.

My mom returned to the kitchen, humming and starting the coffee machine that she’d had—and hadn’t cleaned—for the last twenty years.

I announced my arrival. “Good morning.”

Mom turned to me. “Good morning. How was last night?”

The innuendo in her voice made my cheeks color. How obvious was I? “Good,” I said, keeping it short and sweet.

Mom hummed again, going back to her song. I looked around the kitchen and dining room for Charlie but found both to be empty. Mostly empty, anyway. My parents were “collectors.” Borderline hoarders was more like it. Everything held value to them, and they proudly displayed all things around their house.

Except for pictures of Will and Savannah.

It was like once he passed, Mom didn’t even want to pretend he existed. Last month, I tried to say we should do a two-year memorial dinner, and you would have thought that the ghost of my brother himself had burst into the room. Both of my parents turned as white as a sheet and quickly changed the subject to their upcoming medical appointments.

At first, I understood. The first week, month, even three months, I let them keep the silence. Let them sit in their bunker of a house and pretend nothing was wrong. Everybody grieves differently, I told myself. It’s not personal. I said that for the first year. But now we were just over two years since that terrible night, and still, neither of them so much as whispered his name.

I bounced Piper on my hip, a reminder of who I’d dedicated my life to. These two kids who Will had specifically left for me. I didn’t need outside validation. And I would repeat it until it was true.

“Where were you last night?” Charlie strolled in with a tiny purple line under his eye. He glared at me with crossed arms.

“With a friend.” That felt a lot more honest this time around.

“What time did you get home?”

“What time did you get off the Switch and go to sleep?” I countered.

He backed up a bit and frowned. “Hmm.”

“That’s what I thought.” I took a step with Piper and reached one hand down to mess up his hair. “Go get your bags. We gotta see Mr. Cooper today.” And I had to try my best to seem entirely normal in the process.

Charlie perked up at that, then raced to the guest room he’d claimed as his own.

“When do you plan on telling him?” Mom asked around the corner. I couldn’t see her face, but I could imagine it. The wince there, the flinch she always seemed to have in her eyes when she looked at me. It made me wonder how much of my brother she saw in me.

We didn’t look alike. Not at all, really. I had long brown hair with hazel highlights, whereas Will had my dad’s short blond hair and green eyes. He had a strong Greek nose—also from my dad—and thicker eyebrows. But for my whole life, I looked up to Will. Anything he did, I did too. Which was why I played soccer three years in a row, even though I hated it. Or why I followed him and his friends to the skate park when it actually scared me. I considered anything Will did to be the best thing in the world.

“Uh,” I hesitated. “Not for a while.”

Her sigh wasn’t held back and had some weight to it. “I am glad you are out there again. You need a man in your life.” I rolled my eyes, and she corrected herself quickly, as if she could see me through the wall. “For the children’s sake. S’not good for them to have no father figure.”

“Dad is a father figure.”

“No, he is their grandfather. It’s different,” she specified, and that was when I turned back around to the kitchen.

I was caught between a rock and a hard place here. Stuck on either end. If I told Charlie this elaborate lie, it would get his hopes up far too high. He loved Cooper, and, unfortunately for him, he had my sensitive heart. If I never told him, it would send red flags to my mom that something was off.

I was just going to have to wait until Cooper and I “broke up” for mutual reasons, then tell my mom we were just friends. That I was “too heartbroken” to be set up with anyone else. That alone ought to buy me a few months before I had numbers thrown my way again.

“How much money does he make?”

“Mom!” I hissed and lowered my voice. “I do not know, but I guarantee it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter if it’s a serious relationship. You can’t raise the kids on your sole income forever.”

I reminded her, “It wouldn’t be forever. I graduate next spring.”

She stayed silent after that. I wasn’t sure why, exactly, but I had this feeling that my mom assumed I was never going to get a job after graduation. She would never say it out loud, but anytime I mentioned how there were tons of local hospitals hiring, I saw her eye my dad and look away without an answer. We sat in uncomfortable silence until Charlie came barreling in with his boots halfway on.

“Ready.” He handed me Piper’s diaper bag, and I grabbed it with a smile. “Thanks, bud.”

The three of us said a quick goodbye to my mom, put on our shoes, and left.

When I dropped Charlie off at lessons and watched Cooper give him a bright smile and a quick high five, my heart leapt. And when Cooper looked over at me holding Piper, that sweet gaze darkened ever so slightly before turning back to normal. I drank him in from head to toe in that all-black skiing outfit and a badge dangling from his neck covered in stickers from the kids.

“Madeline.” He dipped his chin at me in a hello and scrunched his nose at the girl on my hip. “Half-Pint.”

Piper glared at him, no surprise there, and we watched him walk back to the group of kids. It took me a while to finally force myself back inside.