“Onlysister,” Max replied. “And of course I want to see you, but Christmas isn’t for another couple of weeks.”
“It’s eleven days away, Maximillian,” Becca said. “Speaking of Christmas, how’s Sadie?”
“Not your best segue, Becks.” Max sighed. “Why are you asking about Sadie?”
“Because she’s your girlfriend?”
“Okay, did Bobbi call you? Don’t bother, I know she did. And she never should have—”
Becca cut him off. “You’ve gone AWOL, Max. You won’t even answer texts anymore apparently? So you can hardly blame me, and Bobbi, for worrying. Seriously, baby brother, what are you doing? It’s been eleven months.”
“I’m coming home soon,” Max replied. “Leave it be, please.”
There was a pause, then Becca said, “Fine. But stop ignoring the people who care about you.”
They hung up and Max shoved his phone back into his pocket, raising his eyes skyward and taking a deep breath, a few errant snowflakes tickling his nose as he did.
A truck pulled up—“Fox’s Autobody” printed on its side—towing a beige sedan with a dinged-in front fender. Marty Fox stepped out of the driver’s side, a shock of white hair poking out from below his well-worn woolen toque, which Max had knit for him many Christmases ago.
“Hey, Marty!” Max called out. He started to make his way toward the truck when he was stopped in his tracks. There was someone else sitting in the passenger seat. She was trying to gather her belongings, so he couldn’t see her face, but he would recognize Sadie Hunter anywhere.
Seeing her, Max felt like time was moving through a vat of molasses. He could not comprehend what was happening, or why (how?) Sadie was here, in Fox’s Corners.
“Max, what serendipitous timing!” Marty held open the passenger-side door. “I have your girl, Sadie, here. She told me she was on her way to visit for a few days, and a snowbank got in her way.”
“What? Is she okay?” Max tripped over an ice chunk in hishaste to get to the truck, still feeling disoriented by Sadie’s sudden appearance. He caught himself before he landed flat on his face.
Sadie stepped out of the truck and thanked Marty. She still hadn’t acknowledged Max, or even looked his way yet.
“No worries at all, young lady, I’m just glad I was there at the right time.” He shut the door, rubbed his bare, well-calloused hands together. “Those damn rental car companies at the airport should know better than to send someone up the mountain in a car like that.”
He clapped a hand against Max’s upper arm. “Nice to see you, Max. I was wondering if you’d headed back home.”
“Not yet,” Max replied, staring at Sadie. His breath hitched. Goddamn, he was powerless against her. A strong wave of something moved through him—and he realized it was longing, with a tinge of regret. He hadmissedher. There was no denying it.
Now Sadie stared right back at him, her expression difficult to read. When they didn’t speak, or immediately embrace, Marty glanced curiously between them.
Then Marty said, “Well, I’ll leave you to it, kids. Sadie, don’t worry about your rental car, that’s what insurance is for, and I’ll take a look besides.”
Now Max glanced at the beige sedan, with the bent fender, then quickly back at Sadie. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He looked her over, wanting to see for himself that she wasn’t hurt. She seemed unscathed. She looked as beautiful as ever. It had been so long since he’d seen her, he was struggling to think clearly.
Sadie looked away first. “It was a slow slide into some snow.I’m fine. The rental car, maybe not so much. But luckily Marty came along after it happened.”
Max noticed how she was dressed: too lightly for the weather, in ankle boots that were no match for the deep snow, and a toque with the embroidered words “Kiss Me in Calgary” on her head.
As though reading his mind, Sadie smiled sheepishly, tugging the toque lower. “I got this from the airport.”
Max merely nodded.
Sadie walked over to him, close enough that he could smell the familiar scent of vanilla. His chest constricted.
“I knew you were here,” she said. “But I didn’t expect to find youright here.”
“Why areyouhere?” Max asked, raising his goggles on top of his head. His eyes were not playing tricks on him. Sadie Hunter was in Fox’s Corners.
“What happened to your face?” she asked, instead of answering his question.
He ran his fingers over his short, coarse beard, which had come in in a light reddish tone versus the dark brown hair on his head. “You don’t like it?”
