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Maddie is having trouble with the zipper on her jacket, so Brent steps forward to help her. She doesn’t realize he’s there and lifts her head just as he moves in close. Her skull collides with his nose.
She gasps. “Crap! I’m sorry!”
“Language!” Jolie hisses.
Brent groans in pain, and I lean in, hoping for blood, but there’s none. He blinks as if he’s trying not to wince, and then he laughs.
“I’m totally fine. Sorry, that’s what I get for trying to be chivalrous.”
Yes, exactly. Lesson learned. Don’t go near her.
“Maddie, I like your hat,” I say.
It’s the red beanie I bought her two Christmases ago. She frowns and reaches up to touch it as if only now realizing that. With a sharp tug, she yanks it off.
“You know, this actually won’t keep me warm enough out on the mountain. Hold on, I’m going to go grab my other one.”
Brent looks at me, and I swear there’s pity in his gaze.
Save it.
“You know what? I forgot my gloves.”
I turn back and head down the hallway after Maddie with my gloves safely tucked in my pocket.
She’s in her room, riffling through her suitcase. The red beanie is on the floor at her feet.
“I have a hat if you need to borrow one.”
My voice makes her jump, but she tries to play it off with a subtle shrug. “It’s fine. I can just…” She shoves clothes aside and groans with annoyance. “It’s in here…somewhere.” Then she whips out a black hat lined with faux fur. “Aha!”
She gives me a big fake smile, positions it on her head, and steps on the red beanie on her way back to the door, which I’m currently leaning against.
I don’t move out of her way.
I narrow my eyes down at her, trying to take a pickaxe to the hard shell she’s surrounding herself with.
“Maddie.”
Her name said in earnest is a plea.
Meet my eyes and let’s work through this. Meet my eyes and tell me what I did wrong.
“Uh-huh?”
Her voice comes out too high-pitched.
“Why are you doing this?”
Her delicate brow arches. “Doing what? Coming back here for my hat? Like I said, the red one—”
“You haven’t even said hello to me.”
“Oh.” She laughs. “Hello.”
Then she brushes by before I can stop her and hurries down the hall.
So this is the name of the game: avoidance.
Let’s see how long it lasts.Chapter TwelveMaddie“Hi Aiden!”
“Welcome back, Aiden!”
“You’re looking very healthy, Aiden!”
Those are all the things I could have said when I first saw him walk into my sister’s house. Instead, I looked up as he strolled in, his dark hair dusted with a light sprinkling of snow, and every ounce of courage I’ve been building up for the last few weeks flew right out the door.
I wasn’t expecting my feelings for him to come rushing back like a tidal wave.
The truth is, it wasn’t easy to move on from him. In fact, it’s proved so difficult, I still haven’t succeeded.
The time since he left for New York has felt like a boring, sad independent film that I’m tired of watching. One day bleeds into the next.
Day 1 without Aiden: wallowed in self-pity.
Day 15 without Aiden: smelled the t-shirt I stole from his closet before the movers came and took all his stuff. No, the irony was not lost on me. I was now one of the sad girls stealing his things in the hopes of hanging on to him for that much longer.
Day 26 without Aiden: attended Stephanie and Elliot’s wedding on my own, barely made it through the ceremony without losing it, left early.
Day 95 without Aiden: walked past our favorite Thai restaurant and started crying so hard on the sidewalk that a stranger asked if I needed them to call someone on my behalf.
Day 234 without Aiden: snooped on social media trying to decipher if the girl who tagged him in a photo was just a friend or something more.
I’ve since stopped counting the days since he moved away in a pitiful attempt to pick up the pieces of my life, but now I see that it was all in vain. Count, don’t count, pretend to move on—whatever. The fact is, Aiden will always feel like home.
This time apart shouldn’t have changed him all that much, but it’s like I forgot the effect he has on me. His tall, lean body sheathed in jeans and a blue sweater. His easygoing, smooth confidence. His sculpted cheekbones and matching pair of dimples.
He could break my heart with a single word.
WRONG.
He used to be capable of that, but not anymore.
I’ve changed too. A lot.
I just have to keep telling myself that until it rings true.
As a group, we stroll down the heated sidewalks on our way to the gondola. James and Jolie are telling us about Vail and all the different walking trails and shops we should visit while we’re in town. I’m actually happy for the distraction. I can halfway convince myself I’m focused on what they’re talking about instead of giving in to the urge to glance in front of me.
