Page 54 of Falling Like Snow

She’s trying to turn my mood around, and honestly, it’s my own fault for soliciting advice. She’s just being a mom. So I bury my annoyance at her implication and ignore the voice in my head whispering reminders that things between Asher and me are different.

“If we ever decide to get married, I’ll introduce you,” I tell her.

“You’re sixteen,” she says. “No talk of marriage, please.”

“Then no talk of meeting him.”

She steps away from the ladder and crosses her arms over her chest. “As the mayor of Bramble Falls, I insist.”

“As the mayor’s daughter, I deny your request.”

“You suck,” she says, pouting.

I laugh. “You raised me.”

“I did a shit job.”

She grabs two strings of lights from the crate and hands me one.

“Save the ladder-climbing for Coop and Sterling and tackle the bushes first instead?” I ask.

“Yes. Your teenage defiance has exhausted me. I only have the energy for bushes now.”

“Sounds like you’re getting old.”

“Shaddup.” She loops her strand of lights around a bush. Then she looks at me with a wistful sigh. “Hockey, huh? Dad would have loved that.”

The unexpected comment drifts between us like snow, filling me with yearning for what should be—and the hope that she’ll say more about him. But she doesn’t. And as we work to change the silent, suddenly desolate woods into a winter oasis, I wonder what Dad would have thought of Micah.

Me: Break into the school with me.

Hanns: I don’t even like to go to school when I have to. You think I’m going to break in on the weekend? No thank you.

Hanns: This sounds like an adventure for Asher or Preeti to join you on.

Me: well, it’s not. Preeti would NEVER, and Asher’s too busy for me today.

Me: Come onnnnn

Me: I need to borrow some stuff. Don’t make me do it alone.

Hanns: Wait. We’re robbing them?

Hanns: Why didn’t you say so? I’m in.

Me: smh

Chapter Fifteen

When I return to Rudolph Ranch later that evening, stars cling to the inky sky like a coat of diamond dust. Across the field, Mom spots me as I stand at the car, loading the utility wagon I found in our garage.

“You’re here early,” she says when I meet her on my way to the woods.

“Yeah. Got some stuff to set up.”

“Oh?” She cranes her neck, peeking at the wagon behind me. “What do you have there?”

“Music stands,” I tell her.