“Forget it,” she said.
I pouted. “But I was really looking forward to my fifty-year plan.”
That finally got her lips to turn up. “Wow, I know you’re desperate to change the subject if I’ve got you begging to talk about plans.”
“Please. Give me direction.”
She laughed at that. “You know, you might think you’re above goals, but you have them too. Like getting through high school to move out here. That was a goal.”
“I guess.”
“And snowboarding, mountain biking, whatever the hell else you do. You intentionally learned those skills. You set a goal and you met it. Those are goals, believe it or not, Oliver.”
I frowned. “I’d hardly equate picking up a snowboard to a retirement plan.”
“You bought a house.” She tapped her nose as if she got me. “You might want people to think you’re some carefree nomad, but you’re responsible. You can follow through on things.”
I sighed, letting her think she had me figured out. The truth was, even though I hadn’t put much thought into the things she mentioned, I had made them happen. I wasn’t so much financially responsible as I was cheap. I’d always lived well below my means. Buying a house? It made sense to me. I never intended to settle there; I just figured it’d be cheaper in the short term, and I could rent it out whenever I moved on. Which, of course, I was doing now. I guess now that I thought about it, Iwasfollowing through on a plan.
“Now what’s next?” she asked.
“Next?” I repeated.
“Ski season is ending soon, meaning lessons will be over. You already told Bev you weren’t going back to Denver, so what’s next? Are you—are you planning to stay in Key Ridge?”
Did I detect a hint of hopefulness under Frankie’s nonchalant tone? The thought of her hoping I’d stay had my ego practically bursting at the seams.
“I haven’t thought about it,” I admitted truthfully.
“Seriously?” She blinked a few times, as if not planning the future was a foreign concept to her. “It’s only a few weeks away.”
I shrugged. “Right. I have plenty of time to figure it out.”
“What do you want to do?” she pressed.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, mulling it over. “Maybe hit up a different mountain town. Maybe travel. I’m not sure. Something will work out. It always does.”
She sat back in her chair. “What must it be like to have that kind of blind confidence that things will always go your way?”
“It’s not blind confidence if it’s always worked that way in the past.”
“Let me get this straight—your only plans are to maybe drift around the state of Colorado?—”
“Or another state. I heard Montana is cool.”
She sighed. “What is it like in that head of yours?”
“Exhilarating?” I offered.
She picked up the maple syrup and drizzled it onto her pancakes before taking a fork and knife to them. I took a few pieces of bacon off my own plate and shoved them into my mouth.
The rest of the breakfast went by without any additional hard-hitting questions.
I made one last futile attempt to get Frankie to snowshoe back to the car, but she told me to give her the keys and she’d meet me there. The shuttle drove us the whole way. I stretched out my tired limbs next to her. Our knees bumped with each rattle of the tires against the rocky, icy service road. She kept sneaking glances at me. I met them every time, but she tore her gaze away immediately.
The drive back to her place was uneventful too. It mostly consisted of us arguing over which radio station was better. I claimed the country station was actually quite catchy, but she kept switching it back to some oldies one. Frankly, neither was great, but the argument had us both laughing.
When I finally pulled into Giles and Mattie’s driveway, I didn’t want the morning to be over. I figured I’d go snowboarding after I dropped her off. Since I didn’t have any lessons, it was a good time to get out and do the terrain park or some of the more advanced runs. Some of the lifties hadeven asked if I wanted to meet up. But when I glanced over at Frankie, I realized if she asked me to do anything—watch some silly rom-com, or walk Main Street, stop by the lodge even—I’d do it. Even if that meant being under the light of her probing questions. I wasn’t ready for my time with her to end. But I had already spent hours with her. I had no reason to ask for more.
