“I know our history is... complicated. But I don’t want to be fake with you, Sadie.”
She was silent. Max held his breath until he couldn’t bear it any longer. “If you don’t feel—”
“I don’t want to be fake with you, either,” she said at the same time.
Max felt a weight lift off him. And then confusion set in again. “Wait, you know what I mean, right? Like, I can’t pretend to have feelings for you, because Ihavefeelings for you.”
She leaned in and whispered, “I have feelings for you, too, Max Brody, in case that wasn’t clear.”
—
This suit is ah-mazing.” Sadie held out her arms and turned around in a circle, the neon colors bright against the snow. She was wearing Maren Brody’s still-pristine, one-piece ski suit, which was white except for a neon-colored rainbow that cut across the top and wrapped around the back. It fit Sadie nearly perfectly, the white belt with the delicate gold buckle cinched around her small waist.
“Glad you like it,” Max said, laughing as he watched her spin around.She looks fine in everything she puts on. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her back inside (maybe they could save the sledding for tomorrow), to continue kissing her in front of the fire. She stuck out her tongue and caught a falling snowflake, her face lighting up with a smile when she looked at him. His heart felt like it stopped right then, being under her gaze like that. Knowing his feelings were reciprocated, and that they didn’t have to pretend anymore.
They were on the hill behind Max’s cabin, having hiked to the top, Max dragging the old wooden toboggan behind him. If you had asked him yesterday morning how he’d spend today, itwould not besledding with Sadie Hunter. And it would definitely not include what had happenedbeforethey went sledding. Every time he thought about the feel of her lips... well, he could barely concentrate on anything else.
Trying to stay focused on the task at hand, Max shifted the toboggan so it was perched at the crest of the hill, its front end wobbling slightly as it rested above the steep incline. He crouched, setting one gloved hand firmly on the wooden slats, the rope tight in his other hand. “Ladies first.”
Max had one heavy snow boot on the toboggan’s slats behind Sadie, the other still planted in the snow. “Once I jump on, it’s ‘go’ time.”
“I grew up in the Midwest,” Sadie replied. “I’m not exactly a sledding virgin. So stop talking and get on.”
“Yes, ma’am.” In one swift movement Max jumped on behind Sadie. One second the wooden slats creaked as the sled adjusted to the weight and movement, the next they were flying down the hill, carving a deeply grooved swath through the snow.
It was exhilarating, and not just because of the speed. Max had wrapped his arms around Sadie, and she leaned into him as though it was the most natural thing to do, a whiff of vanilla hitting his nose.
But then the sled hit an unseen bump in the terrain and they were suddenly airborne. Max didn’t travel far, sliding off the back and rolling once before the snow stopped him. But Sadie—much lighter than Max—wasn’t as lucky: she flew off the toboggan like a rag doll. The rainbow on her suit was a dizzying kaleidoscope as she tumbled over and over, finally restingfacedown in the snow about twenty feet from where Max was. The sled kept going another few feet before it caught an edge and flipped on its side.
“Sadie!” Max scrambled to his feet and raced down the hill toward her. He knelt beside her. Shewascrying, but not out of pain. “Are you... Wait, what’s happening?”
Sadie was laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath. “That... was... awesome!”
Max laughed, too, then sat beside her in the snow, relieved she wasn’t hurt.
“This is the most fun I’ve had in a while,” Sadie said.
Max reached out and reset her toque so it covered her ears.
He was just about to kiss her nose, which had reddened with the chill, when she said, “I know you don’t want to come back, Max. And being here, well, I can’t say I blame you. But you need to, okay?”
Max sighed. “Can we not do this right now?”
“When else?” Sadie asked, with a lilt of frustration. “I know it’s easy to ignore our ‘Nashville problem’ here, but—”
“I don’t have a Nashville problem,” Max retorted. He grabbed a handful of snow, formed it into a ball, and then tossed it down the hill. A second later it disappeared into the white abyss.
“You do,” Sadie said. “Wedo. It’s almost Christmas. We have to record our song. We’re on contract. You know what Cruz is like. A lot rests on what we do next. Careers depend on us, Max, and not just our own.”
If only he had the guts to tell her preciselywhatthe issue was: that he was terrified of going back, because he finally feltlike himself again. Sure, he wasn’t making music the way he’d hoped, but cabin life and Fox’s Corners suited him. Here no one gave a shit about his celebrity, and he got calls not for a silly autograph but to help dig out a stuck-in-the-ditch truck. The thought of being back in Nashville took all those good feelings, scrunched them into a tight ball, and set them on fire. If only he and Sadie could stay here indefinitely.
“I’ll think about it,” he finally replied, saying none of what he really should.
She gaped at him. “Do you have any idea...?”
“Don’t blow a gasket, Sadie.” Max stood then, brushing snow from his pants. He immediately regretted his tone. Why did he have to go and ruin what had been one of the most amazing days of his life? It took two to tango, he reminded himself. But now he had a new problem. Max’s romantic feelings toward Sadie were in direct competition with his irritated ones, and he had to pick a side within himself. He opted to call a truce, putting out his hand as an offering to help her up from the snow. But Sadie angrily stood and stomped past him, ignoring his outstretched hand. He watched her slip and slide up the hill, muttering to herself as she did.
“Sadie, stop. Please.”
