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Since he’d been gone, Aria felt like she had PTED—Post-Traumatic Ezra Disorder. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. She’d written him tons of emails, but Ezra hadn’t responded. Had he moved on to someone else? What about all those things he’d said about how amazing she was and how he’d never met anyone like her? What if she never got over him? What if she never kissed another guy again? She’d had other boyfriends before—her first was a guy named Hallbjorn Gunterson in Iceland and she even dated Sean Ackard, a Typical Rosewood Boy, last semester. But she’d never felt about anyone the way she felt about Ezra.
After a quick pit stop where Byron picked up some snacks and made a phone call, they pulled into a turnoff with a big sign that said BEAR CLAW. Byron gunned the engine up the long driveway, and the lodge came into view. It wasn’t a lodge at all, but a behemoth stone mansion. The grounds were covered in glittering, pristine snow. A gondola carried skiers to the top of the mountain. There were more wooden signs pointing to a spa, indoor tennis courts, a gym, the ski rental shop, an ice-skating rink, and dog-sledding tours.
Aria’s mouth dropped open. Mike’s did, too. “I am so going snowboarding this afternoon,” he said.
“Why didn’t you tell us how nice this place was?” Aria gushed. She’d been positive the Bear Claw Lodge was going to have outdoor plumbing, raccoons living in the rafters, and a creepy caretaker à la The Shining.
“I thought we should go somewhere special for the Solstice this year. You kids deserve it.” Byron swung the car into the round driveway. Several valets approached, pretending not to notice the Subaru’s cracked taillight, the duct tape that held the passenger-side mirror in place, or the many stickers Aria and Mike had affixed to the back bumper. They didn’t say anything about the Yule log, either, cheerfully loading it onto the luggage cart with the rest of the family’s bags.
Aria stepped out of the car and stretched her shoulders, suddenly filled with optimism. The air smelled so fresh, and all of the guests were ruddy-cheeked and smiling. A big, beautiful Christmas tree stood in the front window. She could pretend it was all her own. Maybe she’d even learn how to ski.
A footstep sounded behind her, and she twisted around. A figure slipped behind the building, as though whoever it was didn’t want to be seen. Aria’s thoughts instantly darted to A, who had stalked her for months. But she was just being paranoid. A—Mona—was gone.
“I have another surprise for you.” Byron pointed toward the lodge entrance. “Want to see what it is?”
Aria and Mike followed him through the double doors into a cozy, wood-paneled lobby. People wearing Fair Isle sweaters rested by the fire. A kind, grandmotherly woman waved at Aria from behind the front desk. “Maybe the surprise is something awesome like tobogganing,” Aria whispered to her brother. “Or a helicopter ride over the mountains.”
“Or maybe it’s actual presents this year,” Mike said back, his eyes glittering. “I’m dying for an iPad. Or one of those sick four-wheelers like Noel Kahn has.”
Byron stopped halfway into the lobby and pointed. “Look!”
Aria followed his gaze to the bar. A man and a woman sat with their backs to them, drinking Bloody Marys. Two college-age boys wearing ski goggles like headbands finished the last of their Heinekens. A thin college-age girl in tight jeans and an oversized black sweater slumped on a stool in the corner, drinking a ginger ale. When she turned and revealed her slightly swollen belly, Aria’s heart dropped to her feet. No. This couldn’t be happening.
“Hey!” Meredith’s eyes lit up, and she slid off the stool. “I’m so happy to see you!” She ran up to the family, bypassed Aria and Mike completely, and gave Byron a long kiss.
A Yule log–sized lump formed in Aria’s throat. So much for quality time with just her dad and Mike.
Chapter 2
Snug as Four Bugs in a Rug
As the sun sank lower in the sky and an ethereal violet mist gathered over the mountains, Aria, Mike, Byron, and Meredith sat around a large square table in the lodge dining room. A harpist in a ball gown played soothing Christmas carols. Families to their left and right glugged red wine and eggnog, exchanged presents, and joked about Christmas memories of the past. And what were the Montgomerys talking about?
Puking.
“I can’t believe how fast the vomit urge comes on,” Meredith was saying, taking a tiny sip of ginger ale. There was a beautiful vegetable entrée of eggplant, mushrooms, broccoli, and quinoa before her, but she hadn’t dared take a single bite. “It’s like, one second, I’m totally fine, and the next—bam! I’m hugging the toilet or pulling over to the side of the road to throw up. I’ve even puked into a paper cup at the mall.”
“Sweet.” Mike leaned forward on his elbows. “Is it, like, projectile?”
“Sometimes,” Meredith said, clutching her head wearily.
Um, we’re eating? Aria wanted to say, staring down at the ravioli the waiter had served her. It sort of looked like puke now, too.
“You poor thing.” Byron pushed a lock of hair off of Meredith’s forehead. “There are some amazing Solstice healing rituals that might help, though. I brought a lot of calming herbs with me, too.”
Meredith cupped her hands around her glass. “I can’t wait to celebrate the Solstice. It just sounds so magical and spiritual.”
“We’re so thrilled to have you here, too. Aren’t we, Aria?” Byron peered pointedly at her.
