Chapter 25

It's been a few hours since we arrived at the cabin in the mountains, and we're already snuggled up on the couch like old people. Not that I'm mad about it. My days of partying are over either way. I just never thought I'd be on a weekend getaway with Bailey, or that she would actually agree.

She didn't even fight me on it, she just said yes. I'll admit things slightly changed between us after the New Year's Eve Party. She turned softer toward me, more relaxed even. I don't know if it's because I almost professed my love for her, or if it was helping her through her panic attack, or maybe even the way I fucked her, but she's different. That's the only way I can explain it.

"Maybe we should go outside for a little while before the sun goes down," I tell her, and she pauses the TV. "We still have a few hours left."

"And do what?" she asks, grabbing my hand and holding it between both of hers. It's little gestures like this one that make my heart clench in my chest. I don't know if she returns my feelings or if she loves me, but when she acts this way, it makes me feel delusional.

"I may have already brought some things to pass the time before I picked you up."

"You drove here before getting me?" Her outrage is evident by her gaping mouth. "Are you crazy? It's like a two-hour drive."

"It was worth it." I roll my eyes, "I didn't want to spoil anything for you."

"I like spoilers." She pouts, and the way her bottom lip dramatically sticks out is comical. I smirk as she exaggerates the gesture even more. "Where are we, anyway? Why won't you answer that question?"

"It's my secret spot," I offer. "This cabin is my mom and dad's. It was my gift to them when I got signed. As you can probably tell, we're in the mountains, so that partly answers your question. I just can't tell you where we are because no one is supposed to know about it." Not unless you are part of the family. "Unless you want to be my wife."

Bailey chokes, then hits her chest. Freaking drama queen. "Oh." I chuckle at how flustered she is, but it makes me wonder what it would be like to be married to her. To wake up every single morning with her by my side, make cinnamon rolls in the morning, drink wine, and watch The Summer I Turned Pretty or whatever other show she's obsessed with while eating chocolate cake. I could do that for the rest of my life. In fact, I'd gladly do it. "I definitely don't need to know, then."

Damn.

She's a savage.

I just laugh it off, not wanting to dwell on it right now when we have so many other fun things we could be doing. I don't want to spend my time crying; I want to enjoy it with her. Because I'm convinced that, sooner or later, if I spend enough time with her, making her laugh and treating her how she deserves…she'll have no choice but to fall in love with me.

I shrug. "Exactly." Getting up from the couch, I pull her up with me and smack her ass as I walk backward to get dressed in something other than sweatpants. "Now go put a snowsuit on."

"The one you bought me?" She wrinkles her nose. "We're not going snowboarding or some crazy shit, right? Because I hate to break it to you, but I would suck at that."

"Nah, baby." I grin. "We're staying right here."

"Then why put on a snowsuit?"

I laugh at her, and her face heats. Her wide green eyes flare in momentary annoyance at me, but I can tell she's over it quickly because she softens for me again. "Did you not see all that snow when we came in?"

"I'm not blind, Theo," she huffs. "Except why do you want me to go out there where it's cold as fuck?"

"To have some fun, Bailey," I tut. "Have you ever heard of it? Fun? Because I think I need to show you how to do it."

"Fine." Bailey stomps past me and into the bedroom, where I put our stuff. "But only so you leave me alone after this."

"I'll never leave you alone, my little sour patch kid," I call after her, and I can hear her laughing even though she pretended to be mad just a second ago.

After we both have our snowsuits on, I go to the mudroom and gather the supplies I brought with me, along with a snow shovel. As I grab the snow brick makers, the pang in my chest almost brings me to my knees. It's a pain so fresh you'd think I'm reliving her death all over again—my sister's—even though she's been dead for years. But that's the thing: grief is funny. Most days, I feel just fine, but when something reminds me of her, it's as if the pain renews itself in the cruelest of ways.

What I have planned with Bailey is something my sister and I used to do all the time when we were little, back when we went to the Canadian Rockies every single Christmas break. And I guess I want to share that with Bailey too, as well as a piece of my childhood, who I am at my core. I think she'd enjoy it, even if she's not one with the outdoors.

Once I've gathered all the supplies, I wait for Bailey by the front door. It only takes her two minutes to join me, and when she does, she raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me as she glances between the snow shovel and my face. Curiosity must get the best of her, though. Seeing as she's staring at the snow brick makers with a little glint in her eye, and now I don't know if this is a surprise at all. Maybe she's done this before, and this won't be our special thing anymore. I don't know, maybe?—

"What are those for?" she asks, curiosity dripping from her voice. Suddenly, I'm not worried anymore.

"You'll see." I smile, "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be to freeze my ass off."

I have to give it to her; it really is cold as fuck out here. To be exact, it's seven degrees Fahrenheit. However, we're bundled up with our base layers, a snowsuit, wool socks, snow gloves, and a balaclava with even a beanie over it. I guess you could say we're a little dramatic, but I didn't want her to feel embarrassed for getting cold easily, even if I'm cooking myself in all this shit.

We exit the cabin and go to the back where the yard is supposed to be, but instead, there are just mountains of snow. It's perfect to build a foundation with the shovel, and then we will build the walls together once that's done. I put all the supplies on the snow and turn toward Bailey, who's just standing there watching me closely. Even with the balaclava, I can see the way her cheeks are red underneath it, and she's shifting from foot to foot. I need to get her moving, working, so she doesn't feel as cold.

"Okay, so now, will you tell me what we're doing?" She takes a step toward me, then another. Once she makes it to where I'm standing, she wraps her arms around my waist and looks up at me. It feels so intimate that my body immediately warms to her touch, even at the low temperature.

"We," I gesture toward the supplies, trying to keep my grin from splitting my face. "Are making a snow castle."

Bailey looks confused for a moment, and just when I think she's going to call me stupid and reject the idea, she says, "I don't know how to do that. Will you at least show me?"

My heart skips a beat, "Of course, baby. That was the plan all along." I pull away from her embrace and bend down to pick up the shovel. "My sister and I used to do this when she was—" I gulp, "alive."

"This was your thing with her?" she asks with furrowed brows. "We don't have to do this. I don't want to steal your special moments with her."

"That's why I'm doing this, Bailey." I grin at her, fighting the tears that want to make their way out of my eyes. I don't know why I feel so emotional. It's just a fucking snow castle. "Because you're special to me. She would approve of this."

I pause for a moment to take her in, watching her stance widen and her eyes squint as she smiles, but when she doesn't say anything back, I just continue.

"Now," I dig my shovel into the snow, "I'm going to build the foundation. See that snow? I'm gonna make walls with it."

"Oh, this is good, Bob the Builder," she jabs. "I didn't know hockey players could also be handy."

I gasp. "Are you making fun of me?" It's actually funny, though untrue. "My dad taught me a lot, and I actually am handy, thank you."

"I was just making fun of you." She grimaces. "But maybe it was a bad joke?"

"No, baby," I tell her reassuringly. "I didn't take it seriously; I'm just messing around with you."

Lifting the shovel, I pick it up and throw the snow over my shoulder, then do that over and over until I have some walls built. They're thigh-deep for me, perfect to build on top of them. If I made the walls too low then the bricks probably wouldn't hold. But I have my secret ingredient to keep them frozen for longer—cold water. So I head back to the house, leaving Bailey standing there looking at my masterpiece to get a pail of cold water. When I return and set it down next to her, her brows climb all the way to her hairline.

"Alright, Bailey girl." I hand her a snow brick maker, "It's your turn to help."

"Is this just like building a sandcastle?" she asks skeptically.

"Yep, except this is wet and way colder," I joke, though it's definitely the truth. Filling the brick maker with the snow, I pat it down until it's packed in and show it to her. "Here," I lift it up and take it to the foundation wall, where I set the brick maker on top, and the perfectly shaped brick lands on the wall. "That's how you do it."

Bailey grins, shaking her head. "That's easy enough."

We get to work after that, stacking the bricks until we've shaped the structure into an almost castle, but it's taking way longer than I remember it ever taking. Maybe it has something to do with when I was thirteen, time didn't hold any meaning, or maybe there were more hands on deck.

My dad would sometimes join us when we didn't mind it, but I know he felt special when we let him. Now, though? I don't mind the work. In fact, it's going to make it even sweeter when we finish and have a whole damn castle. What we're going to do in there, I don't know. Probably absolutely nothing if the way Bailey is shaking is any indication. I don't know how she hasn't turned into a popsicle yet.

It feels like hours have passed by the time we're done with the snow castle, and the sun is beginning to set. The chill in the air is even more potent, and now I'm even starting to shiver. I'd bet anything we're almost at negative temperatures if we're not already there. But even still, we plop down in the snow and admire our masterpiece for just a moment. It's definitely not perfect or shaped like a castle, but I wasn't expecting that since it's Bailey's first time, and I wanted to see where she would lead us.

"It's beautiful," I whisper with a smirk, and Bailey throws herself back in the snow and cackles.

"Stop, asshole." She grins at me, her eyes squinting in a way that makes my chest tighter. Mostly because it means she's giving me her most genuine smile. "I know it sucks."

"Actually," I reply, "It doesn't suck at all. Much better than my first time."

"That's because I had your help."

"Maybe," I shrug. "But I'd say you're a natural."

I don't see it when she does it; she's sneaky. Suddenly, a ball of snow lands right on my face, and I shriek. She gets up and begins to run around the side of the cabin, where she's trying to reach the front door before I catch her. But once on my feet, I'm too fast for her, and I grab her by the waist and haul her over my shoulder.

"Gotcha!" I yell with a grin. "Now, let's go get you warmed up."

"Let me down, Theo," she jokes, tapping my ass with her hand as I continue to walk us to the front door of the A-frame cabin, the exterior a black and dark brown that always reminds me of the one in Canada. "Or don't. I have a nice view."

"It's pretty up here, isn't it?"

"I was talking about your ass."

I snort, "Of course you were."

The day isn't over though, and now that the sun is setting I want to introduce her to another tradition. One that we had year after year ever since we built these castles. When I was fourteen years old, my mom taught us how to make her Maple Taffy recipe and told us how she wouldn't be around to make it for us forever. I'm glad I didn't fight her on it because it's moments like these that I'm grateful for the close-knit relationship I have with my parents. Even to this day.

I put Bailey down as we cross the threshold, and we immediately take off our snow boots. Hitting them against the door frame—something my mom despises but is not here to see—I get the snow off, put them inside, and then close the front door. Warmth greets us, yet it's not enough for Bailey. I can still see her shivering as she takes off the wet snowsuit and takes it over to the laundry room, so I busy myself by turning on the electric fireplace and then joining her.

"I have another surprise for you," I tell her as I take off my snowsuit and hang it up on one of the hooks behind the door right next to hers.

"Another?" She smiles at me, dimples popping on her cheeks—ones that drive me to the brink of insanity from how cute they are. "What else could you possibly have to show me?"

"Well, this one you eat." I grin.

"Okay, I can get down with that."

"It's going to be quick, too," I tell her, "I just need some more snow."

"You're going to eat fucking snow?"

"Hey, don't knock it ‘till you try it." I laugh as we get to the kitchen, and I begin to pull out the maple syrup, a glass measuring cup, and other utensils. "Watch this for me." Pouring the maple syrup into the measuring cup, I put it in the microwave for a few minutes and step toward the front door. "Don't let it burn!"

In hindsight, going outside without shoes and only a glass bowl was probably a terrible idea. In fact, I know it is when my toes start burning as I walk a few feet into the yard. I push through, putting a small mountain of snow in the glass bowl, and then return to the house.

Fuck, now it really is cold.

"It's not burned," Bailey calls out as soon as I close the front door behind me.

"Thank you for watching it!"

I make it to the kitchen just in time for the microwave to announce that the heating is done. Putting the bowl of snow on the counter, I grab mittens and take the maple syrup out of the microwave. Technically, I should've boiled it on the stove, but this way is quicker. And I'm lazy, whatever. My mom doesn't have to find out this is what I've resorted to.

"So now, I pour the maple syrup over the snow like so." I show Bailey, pouring a few lines of syrup over the white powder and it immediately hardens. "Then you grab a stick," I motion to the wooden sticks next to me, "and you roll it until it's wrapped around it."

Bailey grabs a stick and does as I directed, then brings the Taffy to her mouth, moaning as she eats it. "Wow." She beams. "This is so good. Who knew you had it in you?"

"Oh, shut up," I mumble.

Cupping my cheek, she simply smiles. "Thank you so much for today, and for bringing me here."

Hauling her into me with both hands around her waist, I lean down and take her lips with mine. The kiss is soft, and I feel it all the way down to my toes. I pull away with effort and say, "Anything for you."

And that's the thing, though.

I actually mean it.