What would we be talking about if he were here?
Would I feel happier?
Because, right not, I don’t feel happy at all.
CALEB
* * *
Four hours later,I come home to a dark condo. Summer’s car is gone, and Justin’s bedroom door is closed like he’s already gone to bed for the night. I didn’t intend to stay at Mountain Village, skiing, this late. I just wanted to stay late enough so I wouldn’t have to see Summer and Justin cuddle on the couch, kiss goodbye for the night, or interact at all. Because seeing is believing, and when I see Summer and Justin together, I believe that she’s really his girlfriend. When we’re alone, it’s easy to forget that fact.
I toss my keys on my dresser and plug in my cell phone on the nightstand—it ran out of battery a couple of hours ago. After I change my clothes and get ready for bed, I sit down on the edge of my mattress to glance at my phone.
Twelve missed text messages.
All from Summer.
I open up the app and start reading the first.
Summer:You should’ve come. We have plenty of dough here if you still want to stop by.
Summer:My mom requested a cookie for Donna O’Day. I think you’re going to like this one.
A picture of a tree-shaped cookie with green frosting and the letters DD written in white frosting show up next. I smile as I glance over the picture.
Summer:I also did my best deer rack for this cookie, but I don’t think it turned out very well.
There’s a picture of a circle cookie with antlers made out of white frosting. I never would’ve guessed a deer rack. It looks more like a spider web, but I smile because I can picture Summer leaning over the cookie, trying to make something for me.
Summer:I’m super proud of these ones.
Two bell cookies are in the next picture. One saysman’slaughter, and the other sayssonofagun. I smile again—or maybe I never stopped smiling.
Summer:I was going to bring you home some cookies if we had extra, but I lost track of time with this last batch.
There’s a picture of a pan of brownish-black cookies left unfrosted.
Summer:So I guess you’re not home. Actually, this is a cell phone. You could be home or anywhere and still see these messages.
Summer:You’re probably snowboarding or skiing. I don’t really know which one you like to do best.
And the last message was left eighteen minutes ago.
Summer:We missed you tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow for backcountry skiing.
I read through all the messages and study the pictures again before tucking my phone away.
My eyes stare into the darkness of my room as I lie back on my pillow. Summer texted me when she was with Justin.
Me.
twenty-seven
CALEB
I carvemy skis into the snow, sliding to a stop. Summer is right behind. She stabs her poles into the snow before pushing her goggles up. Huge flakes fall around us, landing on her pretty face and immediately melting into drops of water on her skin.
“Oh, my gosh!” Her chest heaves up and down from exertion. “I think I’m too out of shape for this.”
