Snow in Love by Aimee Friedman (1)

A sleepy Christmas song played on the speakers overhead as I finally stepped up to the next available rental car clerk. She didn’t even try to put a friendly smile on her face. I supposed a day like today would take the customer service out of anyone.

“Hi,” I said. “My flight was canceled. I need to rent a car.”

“Credit card and ID, please.”

I pulled out my license and slid it across the counter. “I don’t have a credit card.”

Well, technically I did. My parents had given me an emergency credit card but I knew if I used it now, a purchase text would flash on my mom’s cell phone screen. It would say something like: Amalie is in Denver when she should be in Italy—you know, that place she begged to go for an exchange year? The place you paid for her to go? The place she ran away from after four months instead of the scheduled nine because apparently she’s not as strong as she thought?

“Doesn’t the airline pay for my rental since they canceled my flight?” I asked the clerk.

She laughed, but when she realized I was serious, she added sadly, “Oh, honey, no. They don’t, not when it’s weather related.” She picked up my license and showed it to me as if I didn’t know what was on it. “But you can’t rent a car. You’re only seventeen.”

“Right … so I take it the airline won’t pay for a hotel either.” I had exactly nineteen dollars left after buying my plane ticket with the earnings from a side job I wasn’t supposed to have. I could feel the rolled-up wad of cash in my pocket, digging into my thigh as if mocking me about how little it would buy.

“Next!” the lady called over my head and then handed me back my license. “Good luck.”

Tears stung the back of my eyes as I gathered my things and walked away from the counter. Bing Crosby crooned overhead about snow and mistletoe, and for some reason that made me want to cry more. I had been in an airport or on a plane for the last sixteen hours. Denver was my second layover; I was only supposed to be here for forty-five minutes. Now, with the snowstorm, I’d already been here three times that long, and counting.

I tucked my wallet into my backpack and slung the bag onto my shoulder. I’d checked my suitcase back in Milan, and it now sat on a plane, apparently unable to be removed before the plane reached its destination. Hopefully, the weather would soon clear, and my suitcase and I would both fly that plane home to California.

I found an empty spot against the wall and slid down it until I sat on the floor. Would I be allowed to sleep in this rental car place? I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen. For the millionth time, I thought about texting my mom. But I wasn’t desperate enough yet. A text message wasn’t going to be how I told my mom I’d left the program in Milan early. I needed to show up on her doorstep in person and explain things. The magic of Christmas would save me from her wrath. She loved Christmas.

“Hey, I think I know you,” a voice said above me. The statement surprised me, because I knew nobody in Denver, Colorado.

I looked up to see Sawyer Harris: my high school’s senior class president, and winner of last year’s best smile award. He was staring at me, proving why he had absolutely deserved that award.

“Hey,” I managed after too long of a pause. “What are you doing here?”

“You know, just hanging out,” he said, his eyes sparkling with humor.

“Right, you’re stuck too.” Just put your foot in your mouth, Amalie, and wait for your brain to reinhabit your skull. I wasn’t even sure why I was acting so starstruck. I had never had a crush on Sawyer, unlike half the girls at school. Sure, he was cute and seemed nice, but he was completely out of my circle and I didn’t have the desire to change that.

He nodded. “The weather was great for snowboarding, not so great for leaving. You heading home for Christmas?”

“Yep. Yes.”

“You went somewhere for an exchange year or something, right?”

“How do you know that?” I blurted.

He flashed me the famous smile again. “Not too many people venture quite so far.”

It didn’t really answer my question, but I accepted it. “Yes … I ventured. Now I’m trying to get home. So, snowboarding? Here in Colorado? Or is this your layover?” There, finally some understandable words.

He pointed over his shoulder to nobody in particular. “Yeah, me and some friends were here snowboarding. You probably remember them from school. Logan Thompson and Wes Chan. Oh, and my older sister, Heather.”

I started to nod. I did remember Logan … sort of. Then I shook my head with a laugh. “Not really. Sorry. We were in completely different friend pools. I’m actually surprised you remember me.” Finally, my brain was all the way back. No more stumbling stupidly over words. I blamed it on being tired and frustrated. I would blame this day for everything if I needed to. It was completely ruining my life right now.

“Of course I remember you. Your voice is like …” He trailed off.

“A car without a muffler? Heralding angels? Your sentence could’ve gone either way.”

He laughed. “Sorry. It sounded cheesy in my head.”

A guy with spiky black hair and brown eyes came up behind Sawyer. “S … U … V,” the guy said, slapping Sawyer on the back with each letter. “With four-wheel drive. Let’s do this thing.”

Sawyer nodded down at me. “Wes, you remember …”

“Amalie,” I finished for him. So Sawyer didn’t remember me as well as he claimed.

“Amalie,” Sawyer said. “I was getting there.”

Right. I nodded a “hi” up at Wes. At this point I felt like it was too late to stand but my neck was starting to ache.

Wes shook his head. “Don’t remember you at all.”

“Don’t feel bad,” I said even though it was obvious he didn’t. “I don’t remember you either.”

“No?” Sawyer said to Wes. “She goes to high school with us.”

“Well, not this year,” I said. Although I was about to change that. I wanted to finish out senior year back home.

Sawyer added, “You’d remember her if she sang.”

“If she sang?” Wes frowned.

“I’m not going to sing,” I said, seeing exactly where this conversation was headed.

“Fine. But her voice is like …”

After several seconds I said, “One day you might finish that sentence.”

Sawyer laughed.

A tall and lanky guy with a crop of bright blond hair walked up, joining our group. “Let’s go,” he said to Sawyer and Wes. “We have a vehicle.”

“Logan, this is Amalie,” Sawyer said.

Logan nodded down to me.

“How did you guys get a car?” I asked. “The lady wouldn’t rent me one.”

“My sister,” Sawyer explained. “She’s twenty-one.”

“Oh, nice.”

Logan jerked his head toward the exit, and he and Wes left. I looked out the window, where snow was falling pretty heavily now. It was probably better that I didn’t get a car; I wouldn’t have felt confident driving in that.

“Be careful,” I said to Sawyer, who was lingering behind.

He followed my gaze out the window. “Right now, the worst of the storm is north of here and headed this way. We think we can beat it.”

“Utah’s not just as bad?” They’d have to drive through a lot of Utah on the way home.

“It’s a lot better than here. A day and half and we’ll be home.” He turned his phone toward me. Some weather app was open. It showed severe snow for the next four days in Denver. Then he swiped his finger across the screen and Utah weather appeared, with four days of only clouds. He shrugged. “All I know is that if I’m not home by Christmas my mom will kill me,” he said.

My chest was tighter than ever. “This storm is going to hang around for four days?” I could be stuck here through Christmas?

“You could come with us,” he said.

“What?”

“To Fresno. In the SUV. There’s room.”

“I’m sure your friends would love that.”

“They wouldn’t care. Trust me. And Heather would probably appreciate the company. She said something about our maturity level yesterday.”

You shouldn’t get in a car with someone you hardly know, I told myself. No matter how desperate you are. I didn’t even know three facts about this guy. “I think I’ll pass,” I said.

“Okay.” He gave me a small wave. “Hopefully you beat us home.” He spun around and walked away. I watched him join up outside with Wes and Logan, and a girl who must’ve been his sister. She had his same sandy-brown hair and expressive brown eyes. I watched as she tied her wavy hair back into a ponytail. My own long dark hair felt matted and messy from all the travel.

My gaze drifted to Sawyer, who laughed at something Logan said.

Okay. He liked to snowboard. That was a fact I knew about him.

I bit my lip and played with the strap on my backpack as the group moved toward the sliding doors that led to the parking garage.

Oh, and he won that award for his smile last year. Fact.

I laced my fingers together, then pulled them apart again. “His last name is Harris,” I whispered. I totally knew three facts about him. I jumped up.

“Sawyer, wait!”

“You look skeptical,” Sawyer said as everyone piled into the SUV.

“I am.”

He smiled. “A road trip can’t be harder than a year in Italy.”

I met his eyes and let out a little chuckle. He was right. The last four months had been hard.

Sawyer opened up the back of the SUV and threw in his large backpack. When I handed him mine he said, “Wow, you pack light.”

“My luggage is on the plane. They wouldn’t get it off for me.”

“Was your life in there?” he asked.

“Pretty much.”

He looked down at the jeans I was wearing and then my tee and hoodie. “You’re going to be cold.” He reached for his backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out a big ski jacket. “Here. You can use this.”

“Is this all you packed?” I asked. “Because there is no way anything else can fit in that bag if this was in there.”

I silently added low maintenance to facts I knew about Sawyer. Although maybe this meant he just never changed his clothes … or brushed his teeth.

“It has the ability to squeeze into small spaces.”

“Thanks.”

He slammed the hatch and opened the car door.

Heather, Sawyer’s sister, was driving and Wes had claimed shotgun. Logan sat on the middle bench, his backpack taking up a seat and his long legs stretched out onto the other.

“I’ll take the back,” I said. Maybe that would make them feel better when I was the only one not contributing money for this ride.

I climbed in and Sawyer followed after me, to the last row.

“I can sit back here by myself,” I said.

“Logan doesn’t share well, so I’d already claimed the back,” Sawyer explained.

I wasn’t sure if he was saying that to be nice, or if he really did claim the back (who claims the back?), but I didn’t feel like I could argue about it.

The second I was sitting down, with my seat belt on and my headrest adjusted, I knew quite definitely that I was not going to be good company. I was T-minus five minutes away from being dead to the world.

“Let’s beat this storm!” Wes said from the front.

The others cheered their agreement.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Sawyer.

“Why?”

“I’ve been up for almost twenty-four hours.”

“Oh, is that what the slightly glazed look is in your eyes?”

“That or the drinks I stole from the bar cart on the last leg,” I said, my eyelids going heavy.

“Really?”

“No, it was a joke. I don’t mess with airport security. They’re like their own sovereign nation. A nation of tyranny and chaos.” I wasn’t sure what I was saying anymore. I was rambling.

“Tyranny and chaos? Aren’t those the opposite of each other?”

“I think you might be right. One is absolute rule, one is a lack of order. But somehow, the airport brings these two together and makes them coexist in complete and utter disharmony.”

He smiled. “You are tired.”

My eyes went to his bright smile. “I think you do brush your teeth.”

Now he laughed. “I have a feeling I could ask you anything right now and you’d tell me the truth. This could be trouble.”

I leaned my head against the window. “I am about to be in a huge amount of trouble.” At home, that was. And I had a day and a half to prepare for it.

Something smelled good. Like pine or soap or clean. It must’ve been the laundry detergent from the pillow I was sleeping on.

No, because I was on a seat, my legs on the floor, but the rest of my body twisted awkwardly across cold leather. In a car, I suddenly remembered. I felt wetness on my cheek and realized that was from me … drooling. My eyes flew open. I was lying on someone’s legs.

The events that led me here came back in a flash. I wiped at my cheek and sat up. The car glowed red from brake lights in front of us. Aside from that, it was dark. The day had passed to night with me asleep on Sawyer’s legs. The rest of the car was quiet, except for some news station Heather had on the radio. Wes and Logan were sleeping; maybe Sawyer was asleep too. Maybe he had no idea I had drooled on his leg for the last however many hours. I bit my lip and turned to check.

He wasn’t asleep.

“I’m sorry about your leg,” I said.

He gave me a half smile. “Wes once spit in my soda. That was worse.”

My mouth dropped open.

“I mean, way worse,” he said, backtracking. “That wasn’t a good comparison.”

I laughed. “It’s fine. I deserve it.” I nodded toward his leg. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”

Heather turned in her seat. “We’ve gone sixty miles in three hours.”

“What?” I asked. “That’s not good.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve been following this semi because it’s making really good tire tracks in the snow for me, but it’s slow going. And it’s ten o’clock and I’m about to die of boredom, so someone needs to entertain me before I fall asleep.”

“So about that one and a half days to get home …” Sawyer said.

“Is it too late to go back to the airport and wait it out?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” Heather said.

“I still stand by my claim that we will beat your airplane,” Sawyer told me. “We are actually moving.”

Heather let out a breath between her lips as if protesting that statement.

“Do you want me to drive, Heather?” Sawyer asked.

“Funny,” she said darkly.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he said.

“There is no way I’m going to let any seventeen-year-old drive this car. It is a rental. There is a snowstorm outside. You will wreck it, and I will have to pay thousands of dollars I don’t have because I let someone not allowed to drive, drive.”

Sawyer held up his hands. “I was just offering.”

“Even if you were allowed to drive, I wouldn’t let you. I saw how you drove that snowmobile this weekend. You were horrible. Not as bad as Wes, but I’d be crazy to trust you with my life.”

“Amalie can drive,” Sawyer said. “I bet she is an excellent driver.”

“Amalie, are you older than seventeen?” Heather asked me, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“No,” I said.

“Then my original statement still applies.” She reached down and turned up the radio. A story about the storm had just come on. “Shhh. Hold on.”

I turned to Sawyer. “You would place a bet on my driving skills when you know nothing about me?” I asked quietly.

“I know a few things about you.”

He didn’t even know my name before today, so I doubted it. “Like what?”

He started to answer and I interrupted with, “Aside from the singing thing.”

“And the Italy thing?” he reminded me.

“Right.” Those were two big public things that people had probably talked about at school.

“What are you guys saying back there?” Heather asked.

“We’re talking about how Amalie knows nothing about me,” Sawyer said.

“I can fix that. I know everything worth knowing about Sawyer.” Heather smacked Wes on the arm, waking him up. “We’re playing a game.”

“We are not playing a game,” Sawyer said.

Wes sat up from where he’d been sleeping against the window. He ran his hand through his already spiky black hair, making it spikier. He looked around in confusion before saying, “What?”

“I need entertainment so I don’t fall asleep,” Heather told him.

“What did you have in mind?” Wes asked in a flirty voice.

She put her hand up. “Not whatever you’re thinking. It’s time to share Sawyer facts.”

“What are those?” Wes asked.

“It is not time to share anything,” Sawyer said.

Heather ignored him. “We each say something true about Sawyer. Wake up Logan.”

Wes started throwing things at Logan: the rental car pamphlet, a sock, a beanie. Logan first kicked up one of his legs, as if that would stop the assault. When Wes didn’t give up, Logan’s blond head finally appeared above the seat, the only thing I saw at first, before he dragged the rest of his body into a sitting position.

“We’re sharing facts about Sawyer,” Wes said.

“Heather, if it’s facts you want, I have some fun ones about you,” Sawyer said.

I smiled. “That’s a good idea. I’m in a car with four strangers; I’d like to know about all of you.”

“Fine,” Heather said. “We can each share one fact about anyone in this car that is not ourselves.”

“I’ll start,” Wes said, raising his hand. “Sawyer once stole a pack of gum from a homeless man.”

I raised an eyebrow at Sawyer.

He immediately protested, “No, no, that’s not—”

“That’s exactly what happened,” Wes interrupted.

“And what about that time when Sawyer snowboarded in his underwear?” Logan chimed in.

“Um, what?” I asked.

“Those were both dares!” Sawyer exclaimed.

Logan nodded. “Sawyer never backs down from a dare. Another important fact.”

Wes held up his finger. “Except that one time—”

“We are supposed to be sharing facts about everyone in this car,” Sawyer said. “And I wouldn’t exactly call these things facts about me. They are events.”

Heather patted the steering wheel. “Sawyer likes spicy food.”

“There,” Sawyer said. “That’s better.”

“Sawyer once ate two of those really hot peppers and cried,” Wes said.

“And then vomited,” Logan added.

I laughed, but then put on a sympathetic face when I realized that probably wasn’t an appropriate reaction.

“Or remember when Sawyer laced Heather’s burger with hot Cheetos?” Wes asked with a grin.

“Events! These are events!” Sawyer cried. “And not even events. These are things you guys dared me to do. They probably say more about you than they do about me.”

“You laced my burger with hot Cheetos?” Heather asked. “When?”

“It didn’t faze you at all,” Wes said.

“Huh,” Heather muttered. “I knew I shouldn’t trust teenagers around my food.”

“Heather, you are four years older than us,” Sawyer said. “You were a teenager literally two years ago.”

“Sawyer is right,” Heather said. “I’d say these qualify more as stories than ‘getting to know a person’ facts. So dig a little deeper, boys.”

“About other people in this car,” Sawyer said, then added to me, “I’m really not as irresponsible as they’re making me seem.”

“Yes, Sawyer gets straight As,” Logan teased like this was a bad thing. “And he reads too much. For fun.”

“He once won a hot dog eating contest,” Wes said, unable, it seemed, to steer clear of events and focus on personality.

“That’s true,” Sawyer said as if this was the first thing said that he was proud of.

“Then he barfed,” Logan added.

“You seem to throw up a lot,” I said.

“I think it’s my choice in friends.”

“Yes, Sawyer is very loyal,” Heather said. “Regardless of how dumb his friends are.”

“So loyal that he’s had a crush on the same girl since the ninth grade,” Wes said.

“I think that means I’m pathetic,” Sawyer said. “Is it someone else’s turn yet? I have some facts. Wes once ate an entire tube of toothpaste and his mom made them pump his stomach. And Logan plays the guitar like Santana, despite his extra-long limbs, and can solve a Rubik’s Cube in two minutes. And Heather practically raised me.” That last one seemed to catch him off guard. Like he hadn’t meant to say it. He quickly added, “I mean, she’s like a second mom or whatever.”

Heather met his eyes in the rearview mirror and said incredulously, “You’ve had a crush on the same girl since the ninth grade?”

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“But what about Candice and Paige and what’s her name? That girl you dated sophomore year,” she said.

Lisa. He’d dated Lisa our sophomore year. I didn’t realize I’d remembered her name until that moment. I’d seen them holding hands around campus. I knew Candice too, but I didn’t know Sawyer had dated her. Maybe he’d dated her this year. Or maybe I hadn’t noticed. We ran in different circles, after all.

“Exactly,” Sawyer said. “Wes was exaggerating. Like he always does.”

“It’s called pining,” Wes said. “And your brother is very good at it. Add that to the list of personality traits.”

“Whatever,” Sawyer grumbled.

“And you’ve never told me about this?” Heather asked Sawyer. “No wonder nothing has happened. You’ve had these idiots giving you advice. It’s your lucky car trip, brother, you have two women in this car who are about to impart all their wisdom upon you. Right, Amalie?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“What have you done so far to win this girl’s heart?” Heather asked as we inched forward on the highway.

“A lot of pining,” Wes said. “And he talked to her at school a couple times, and at a party once.”

I laughed. “Have you asked her out?”

Sawyer shook his head. “I’m just supposed to march up to her and say, ‘do you want to go out with me?’”

“Yes,” I said. “If you can snowboard in your underwear, this shouldn’t be that hard. Wait … did this snowboarding event happen this last weekend?”

Wes whooped.

“You see what I’ve been dealing with?” Heather asked me.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“This is different than a stupid dare,” Sawyer said. “This is …”

“The risk of rejection?” Heather offered.

“For starters.”

“I think most girls just want a guy who is straightforward and honest,” I said.

“But,” Heather said, “if that’s too hard for my apparently wimpy brother, there’s nothing wrong with easing into it. A few casual conversations.”

“It’s not like I see her all the time,” Sawyer argued. “And now it’s winter break.”

“That’s it!” I said, shaking his shoulder. “Christmas.”

“What about Christmas?”

“Get her a gift. Take it to her. I know that’s more than a casual conversation but it’s less than asking her out. It’s just an ‘I’ve been thinking about you.’”

“‘For the last three years,’” Wes added. “‘Please don’t find me creepy.’”

I waved off Wes. “Don’t listen to him. It’s cute. It’s thoughtful. She’ll like it.”

“I agree,” Heather said. “It’s innocent enough that you can talk your way out of it if it’s obvious she doesn’t like you back, and forward enough that you’ll be able to tell if she does.”

Sawyer nodded slowly. “I guess I can try that. And for the record, I have not been thinking about her for the last three years. Just occasionally, when I see her.”

Wes cleared his throat as if about to protest but didn’t.

“Good,” Logan said. “That’s solved. Now, we’ve been in here for four hours. Can we make a pit stop? Or I might have to pee out the window.”

Heather grunted. “I have no doubt you would, but yes, I’ll stop at the next gas station.”

“We’ve gone eighty miles,” Heather said when she pulled into a parking space at the gas station. “Over a thousand to go.”

When I climbed out of the car and the cold air bit at my cheeks, I reached back inside and grabbed Sawyer’s ski jacket.

“Italy’s a lot warmer than this?” Sawyer asked as we walked into the well-lit and nearly empty food mart.

A clerk stood at the counter and glared at us as the doors opened, like we had just filled his store with piles of snow.

My mind wandered back to walking the streets of Milan: the amazing architecture, the art, the food, the sun on my face. “It is warmer,” I answered, feeling a wave of sadness. I would miss it there. But not enough to want to go back.

Logan ran straight for the bathroom and the rest of us headed toward the food aisle. On the way, Heather was distracted by the souvenir aisle. She held up a Breckenridge, Colorado, T-shirt.

“Maybe you should buy your crush some gas station gifts,” she said to Sawyer with a smirk. “It might be all you have time to get before Christmas.”

I started to laugh but then said, “Wait, that’s not a bad idea!” I glanced at Sawyer. “It can be like a little story of your journey. You get something at each stop. Then you can tell her all about your trip home.”

Heather put her hand on her heart. “Your journey to her.”

“I sense you are both now mocking me,” Sawyer said.

“You just now sensed that?” Wes asked.

“We’re not mocking you,” I said, holding up a snow globe of Denver and giving it a shake. “Well, not a lot.”

“I vote for this fake gold medal.” Wes held it up. “It’s like you’re saying, you won … me.”

Sawyer cursed us all under his breath but then walked farther into the souvenir aisle.

I tried not to laugh and put the snow globe back on the shelf. I watched as the tiny white flakes settled around the buildings. “My dad used to bring me home snow globes from wherever he went,” I said to Heather, who was digging through a basket of pins.

“Oh yeah? What does your dad do?” Heather asked.

“Ag stuff. He teaches farming seminars. What does your dad do?”

“He’s a pilot. It’s actually how we got to fly to Colorado. And how we knew that we’d all be trapped at the airport for days.”

I ran my hand over another snow globe. “I better find the bathroom before we go.”

When I came out of the bathroom, I searched for some food that was cheap, yet filling. If this trip was going to take us more than a couple days, I needed to conserve my money. I found a pastry and the cheapest bottle of water and made my way to the register.

Sawyer’s stuff was being bagged and Wes, Logan, and Heather were getting ready to head out.

“What did you end up getting?” I asked Sawyer.

“None of you deserve to know that because of all your mocking,” he said loudly for everyone to hear. He swiped the bag off the counter, gave me a wink, and followed the others out the door.

The thought of picking up cheesy Christmas gifts at each of our stops sounded so fun to me that I wished I had more money. As it was, I was going home empty-handed. It would be the first year in a while that I hadn’t gotten my parents or younger brother something for Christmas. I felt terrible. I would be showing up present-less, having left my exchange year early. My family might be happy to see me for a minute, but then I’d probably end up ruining Christmas.

I took my bag and walked outside. Wes was holding a big garbage can lid and pointing to a snowy hill behind the gas station.

“What’s going on?” I asked as Sawyer grabbed the lid and took off running.

“Some sort of dare,” Heather said with a sigh.

The two of us stood and watched as Sawyer stretched out across the garbage can lid and slid down the hill of snow headfirst. Logan and Wes whooped.

“Good for you!” Heather shouted. “Now come on!”

“We should stop for the night,” Sawyer said.

It was one in the morning, and it was obvious that Heather was having trouble staying awake. She’d downed a Mountain Dew after we left the gas station but she was fading fast.

The snow was coming down harder than before and we’d been following another semi for the last three hours. The truck had colorful lights strung along its tailgate, which seemed to be telling me that this was how I was going to spend my Christmas.

“The whole point of leaving the airport was to get ahead of the storm,” Heather said. “If we stop now, we might as well have stayed. The snow will catch up with us.”

Sawyer was staring at his phone and since he didn’t argue with her, I assumed what Heather had said was right—we needed to keep going. “Amalie agreed to sing us some songs to keep you awake, then,” he finally said.

My heart seemed to stop in my chest even though I knew he was kidding. I managed to cough out a little laugh, hoping that would be enough to get the subject dropped.

“That’s right!” Heather exclaimed. “You said something about being a singer earlier.”

I had? I guess I’d mentioned it when I was talking to Sawyer.

“And Italy,” Heather said. “Is that why you were in Italy? For singing?”

The answer to that question was yes. My voice had been my ticket to Italy; I’d been accepted to a school for developing singers.

“It was just one of those exchange programs. Lots of people do them,” I said as my answer. I hadn’t even told my parents that I’d left, let alone why I’d left. I wasn’t telling this car first.

“When do you have to go back?” Sawyer asked. He was digging through his bag from the gas station. He pulled out a package of trail mix and opened it.

“Back?” I asked.

He nodded, his mouth full of mixed nuts. “For the rest of your exchange year. You’re just home for the holidays, right?”

“Oh … um … I don’t remember the exact date.” What was the exact date of never?

“If I can change the radio station, I will sing anything you want, Heather,” Wes said.

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Heather asked.

Wes switched the station away from the news and started singing Pearl Jam at the top of his lungs. Heather joined in on the chorus and soon the whole car was singing badly, even though no one but Wes knew the lyrics.

I mouthed along, hoping Sawyer wouldn’t call me out.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t sing at all now. It was only when people were paying attention that my throat seemed to freeze up, as cold as the air outside. Back in Italy, I had seen the school doctor and the school therapist and had analyzed myself extensively. It came down to the pressure of being away from home and the intense competition of the program.

I had thought I was stronger than that. My whole future, the one I’d dreamt of for the last five years, was gone. Who would hire an opera singer who couldn’t hold up under pressure?

As the morning sun crept over the mountains, we pulled into Grand Junction, Colorado. We still had nine hundred miles to go, but according to Sawyer’s weather app, we’d passed the worst of the storm.

“Let’s stop here for six hours,” Heather said. “We’ll leave after lunch. You can all find something to do because I am sleeping in this car alone.”

“You want us to find something to do for six hours?” Sawyer asked.

“Did you sleep last night, Sawyer?”

“Yes, Heather,” he said, humbled. We had all taken turns sleeping the night before. Except Heather. She deserved six hours of sleep alone in a car.

She drove into a parking lot in a small downtown area, parked, and turned off the car. “Come wake me up at noon.” When none of us moved she added, “Run along and play, children.”

I pulled on Sawyer’s ski jacket, and we followed Logan and Wes out of the car. Snow crunched beneath our feet but nothing was falling from the sky at the moment.

The locks on the SUV clunked into place. When we all glanced back at Heather, she just waved and reclined her seat.

“Okay,” Sawyer said, turning a full circle. “What should we do?”

Wes pointed. “Diner. Breakfast.”

Nobody objected—except for the thirteen dollars and change in my pocket and the nineteen hours (assuming there was perfect weather and zero stops) it would take to get home from here. The guys just trudged forward. I lingered behind.

Sawyer turned and walked backward. “You coming?”

“I’ll meet up with you guys later. I’m just going to look around.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

Starving. “I’m okay.” I wondered if there was a grocery store somewhere close. My money would go further there.

Sawyer shrugged and caught up with the others. I pulled out my phone and searched for a nearby grocery store. The closest one was over three miles away. Not helpful. My next search was for a McDonald’s. I could get two Egg McMuffins for three bucks. My phone showed me that was even farther.

I looked one way down the street and then the other, then zipped up my overly large jacket. I’d find something.

The store windows were decorated for the holidays, with colorful scenes painted on the glass or wintertime displays. Christmas music drifted out of doors as people entered and exited. I found myself humming familiar tunes as I walked.

My Converse were not made for snow. They were made for airports and airplanes and Italy and … Fresno. By the time I’d walked several blocks, my socks were soaked through, but no good food options had presented themselves. This was a place full of specialty shops and boutiques, small candy stores, and ice cream parlors. It wasn’t a place for a budget-conscious tourist.

I turned around and headed back toward the diner. I could find something cheap to eat there. On my way, I noticed a small shop full of Christmas decorations. I couldn’t help myself; I stepped inside.

The warm air made my numb cheeks sting. The smell of cinnamon and pine and oranges filled the entire shop, and an intense bout of homesickness nearly knocked me off my feet. This was what Christmas smelled like in our home. My mom would simmer cinnamon sticks and sliced oranges on the stove, and the scent seeped into every corner of the house. We always got a freshly cut pine tree that we’d decorate together the day after Thanksgiving. Every year, we’d each pick out one new ornament to add to the tree.

This was the first year I’d missed that. I walked slowly around the store, taking everything in. I wanted to pick out an ornament, give it to my mom for Christmas, but the cheapest one I could find was fifteen dollars.

The woman behind the counter smiled at me as I passed her. “Can I help you find anything?” she asked.

“Just looking. It smells so good in here.”

“Thank you.” She pointed to a bin of square envelopes by the register. “They’re little potpourri packs. Five dollars each if you’re interested.”

I picked one up and smelled it, again hit by a wave of nostalgia. “Five dollars.” I ran my hand over the pocket of my jeans, bit my lip, and then nodded. “Sure. I’ll take one.” My mom would love this because it represented tradition. She’d see I’d been paying attention.

“Is that all? I’m not trying to rush you out of here or anything.”

“That’s all.”

“Great.” She rang me up and handed me the bag.

A little fir tree sat by the register and as I was about to leave, an ornament caught my eye. A silver bird.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” the lady asked.

“Gorgeous.” My mom used to call me her songbird when I was little. I hadn’t remembered that in a while. I nodded at the lady behind the counter. “Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas.”

I reached the door just as the guys burst into the store with a gust of cold air and laughter.

“Amalie,” Sawyer said when he saw me. “Hey.”

Wes and Logan waved but continued into the store.

“Hi. How was breakfast?” I asked Sawyer.

“Too much food.”

My stomach let out a little gurgle that only I heard.

“Oh, speaking of.” He thrust a small Styrofoam box toward me. “You want my leftovers? I’m not sick or anything.”

“Thank you, I was just about to look for something to eat.”

“I saved you, then.”

“For sure.” He had no idea just how much.

I found a bench outside, next to a large bike made of iron that was bolted to the ground. I opened the small box to see what Sawyer had ordered for breakfast: eggs and bacon. I was glad nobody was around to see me eat it with my fingers.

My still-wet socks were beginning to turn my toes into icicles when the guys came out of the store.

“It’s not exactly a bike for riding,” Sawyer was saying.

“That’s why it’s a dare,” Wes responded as if this was obvious.

Sawyer circled the bicycle. The wheels were taller than he was. He gave it a shake to ensure it was securely bolted. “Fine.” He handed the couple bags that he was holding to Logan.

“Are you always the daree and never the darer?” I asked Sawyer.

“It seems that way,” he said.

“Oh, please,” Wes said. “Don’t fall for his ‘poor me’ act. He’s dished out just as much as he’s taken.”

Sawyer laughed, planted his foot on an iron spoke, and swung his leg up and over the seat. “There,” he said. “Done.”

“Not yet,” Wes said. “Say it.”

“You guys are jerks, you know that?” Sawyer said.

“Say it.”

He let out a huge sigh, then yelled, “Look at me, I’m a little boy on a big bike!”

A couple who had been walking by turned and scowled at him. I could feel my own face heating up even though Sawyer didn’t seem embarrassed at all.

The memory of my last time standing on the stage at school in Milan washed over me. My throat tightened, like it thought I was going to try to sing and it was once again refusing me. I clenched my teeth.

Sawyer jumped off the bike and plopped onto the bench next to me.

“I don’t know if I want to be seen with you,” I said through my tight throat.

“I understand.”

Wes pointed down the street. “I saw a candy store up there. Should we check it out?”

“Go ahead. I’ll catch up,” Sawyer said.

Logan handed Sawyer back his bags and the guys took off, kicking snow at each other the whole way down the street.

“You can say it,” Sawyer said.

“What?”

“We’re immature.”

“As long as you know.”

Sawyer studied my face for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” My expression must’ve shown my unwanted memory.

“What did you buy?” he asked, nodding toward the bag on my lap.

“Christmas.”

“You bought Christmas? That sucks for the rest of us.”

“It really does.” I opened the bag and held it out to him. “Smell.”

“Smell?”

“I dare you,” I said in a deep-voiced impersonation of Wes.

“Ouch.” Sawyer grabbed at his chest. “But you know me, I can’t turn one of those down.” He leaned over the bag and took a whiff. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “That is Christmas.”

I smiled. “What about you? What did you buy?”

“I bought a scarf for my mom and another gift for you-know-who.”

“Your crush?”

“Yep.”

I felt a prickle of curiosity. “Wait, do I know her?” I asked.

“She goes to our school,” he said.

“The one I haven’t been to since June?”

“Yes, that one.”

But I’d been going there for the three years before that. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What’s her name?”

He let out a single laugh. “I’m not telling you that. I have to save some face in case she rejects me.”

Who might Sawyer like? I tried to picture some of the girls on the periphery of his friend group. Maybe Lani? I had once seen them talking in the cafeteria and she was beautiful.

“Oh.” Sawyer reached into his bag. “And I bought these.” He pulled out a pair of socks and handed them to me.

“You bought these for me?”

“Converse aren’t great in the snow.”

“You’re very observant. I’ll add that to the list of facts I’ve learned about you.” And thoughtful. He was definitely thoughtful.

“What about you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“It hasn’t escaped my notice that the only person we learned facts about in the car yesterday was me. So you owe me a few facts about yourself.”

I smiled and shook my head. “You had the advantage of other people listing facts about you. It’s much harder to think of interesting facts about myself on the spot like this.”

“Okay, fair enough. How about you tell me when you think of some?”

“Deal.”

“How was your nap?” Sawyer asked his sister as we pulled back onto the freeway.

“Better than nothing,” Heather answered. “The important thing is that the snow stayed away.”

“We’re not supposed to have any more snow now,” Sawyer said, checking his weather app. “We already beat it.”

“I hope so.”

“Sawyer,” Heather said an hour later. “What do you call white stuff that falls down from the sky?”

I peered out the window. We’d made it through a red rocky canyon and into Utah when the flakes started floating down. Soft at first, harmless, and then whipping around the car like they wanted to carry us off the road.

“I have no service right now,” Sawyer replied with a straight face. “I’m not sure what that stuff is without the internet to tell me.”

“Very funny,” Heather said. “Add a couple more hours to the trip, people.”

“We’re never getting home,” Wes said. “We’re going to have to become one with nature and live amongst the rocks.”

“Can you all keep it down?” Logan said. “I’m trying to nap.”

This set off a series of screams from Heather and Wes.

“Did you call your parents at our last stop?” Sawyer asked me in the chaos.

“No. I’m surprising them.”

“They don’t know you’re coming home for Christmas?”

“Oh, is that what a surprise means? Never mind.”

He smiled. “And you haven’t seen each other in four months?”

“No.”

“Are you excited?”

I was both excited and terrified. “Beyond.”

“Are you surprising your friends too?”

“Nobody knows I’m coming.”

“What was the school in Italy like?”

“It was really cool. There were people from all over the world and we met in this really old building with hand-painted tile floors and mosaics on the walls.” I paused. “And it was … much harder than I thought it would be.”

“Wait, do you speak Italian?” Sawyer asked.

“I thought I did. But then I showed up there and learned very quickly that I don’t speak it well. Some of the classes were in English though, so that was nice.”

“How did you learn Italian?” Sawyer asked. “Our school doesn’t offer it as a language choice.”

“I wanted to be an opera singer. Most operas are in Italian.”

“Wanted to be?”

“Want to be,” I corrected hurriedly. “So when I was ten, my parents found a private tutor and I’ve been taking lessons ever since.”

“Wow. And you didn’t think that was an interesting fact you could share?”

“I told you I would share the facts as they came to me.”

“True, but if the fact that you speak a second language isn’t just sitting there waiting to be bragged about, I’m not sure that you know yourself at all.”

I sort of agreed with that statement—I wasn’t sure I did know myself, and maybe it had taken me going to Italy to realize it. “I told you, I don’t speak it that well. It’s not a bragging point.”

“It is. Put that one on the list of things you share in the first five minutes of talking about yourself.” He held up a clear plastic bag that he had filled in the candy store earlier, when we’d joined up with Logan and Wes. “Another fact, almost equally as interesting would be: What is your favorite candy?” He tilted the bag toward me.

“I take it yours is anything gummy.”

“Lucky guess.”

I pulled out a green-and-white gummy worm from the sea of gummy bodies. “I’m actually more of a salty person.”

“Interesting.”

“Is it?”

He smiled. “For sure.”

“Speaking of random interesting facts, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything,” he said in a faux serious voice.

“How does a junior win one of those back-of-the-yearbook awards? I thought those were reserved for seniors.”

“Is that even a real question? Have you seen my smile?” He put it on full display for me.

I laughed.

Logan, who must’ve been listening in on our conversation from where he was laid out on the seat in front of us, raised his hand. “He can thank me for that award.”

“It was a dare,” Sawyer said. “Wes dared Logan to put someone’s name on the ballot and apparently there is not a good vetting process because my name got through to the voting round. But my smile did the rest, Logan.”

“Of course it was a dare,” I said.

“See,” Heather said. “You’re learning.”

“I think Heather and Amalie are jealous of the dare stories we have,” Wes said thoughtfully. “You need some stories of your own. I have a dare for you, Heather.”

She glanced at him once, waiting for the challenge.

“I dare you to let me drive.”

Heather laughed long and loud. When she stopped, she said, “The difference between me and you guys is that I don’t need to prove myself in some weird way. I can just say no.”

Wes threw a piece of candy at her—something small and red. “You’re no fun.”

“If it hadn’t been for me, none of your parents would’ve let you go on this trip,” Heather protested. “So I disagree. I am the most fun.”

Sawyer whispered just loud enough for only me to hear. “I dare you to throw this gummy worm at the back of Wes’s head.”

Without a second thought, I grabbed the gummy worm and flung it at Wes. It hit him right in the temple, then landed on the center console.

“Sawyer, keep your candy to yourself.” Wes picked up the gummy worm and ate it.

“That was Amalie,” Sawyer said.

“Yeah right.”

Sawyer looked at me as if I should fess up and I just gave him a shrug and a smile. It was a stupid, easy dare, but I had a feeling that Sawyer didn’t think I would do it. But I had. And there was something very freeing about that.

“It is the twenty-fourth of December, I declare only Christmas music to be sung or played from here on out.” Heather changed the station as the clock on the dash clicked over to 12:01 a.m. Mariah Carey’s voice rang out.

“Am I the only one awake?” Heather asked.

“Nope. I’m up,” I said.

I waited for Sawyer to chime in that he was awake as well, but he said nothing. I glanced over to find him leaning his head against the window, his eyes closed.

“Just us, huh?” Heather said.

“Apparently.”

“Have we all scared you yet?” Heather asked. “I know you weren’t planning on more than a day with a bunch of strangers.”

We passed a sign that said ten miles to Beaver, Utah. The last eight hours had only taken us another three hundred miles.

“I just spent a semester with a bunch of strangers, so this is nothing.”

“They weren’t strangers the entire semester though, right?” Heather asked.

“I got to know my roommate. She was nice.” I would actually miss her. “But with a language barrier and the competitive nature of the school, a lot of times I felt very much …”

“Alone?”

“Yes.” I swallowed hard.

Heather glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Why was it so competitive?” she asked.

“Because we were literally competing for parts in showcases,” I explained. “Scouts would come from different colleges to hear us. Scholarships were on the line.” I twisted my hands in my lap, remembering. “I just needed to step away from it all, to see if it would help.”

“Help with what?”

“Everything.” But most of all my voice. My ability to perform.

“And how’s it going so far? Your step away from it all?”

I considered this question. “Well, it would help if we weren’t running away from snowstorms, but aside from that, it’s actually been surprisingly … fun.”

Heather laughed. “My brother has that effect on a lot of people. He’s good at getting people out of their comfort zones, but in a comforting way.”

“I can see that.” That was the perfect way to describe him.

“It’s because he’s been there.”

“Been where?” I asked.

“Inside of himself, wound tight, needing to let go of things he couldn’t control.”

“Is that where you think I am?” I asked.

“Isn’t it?”

She could tell this from the front seat of a car, overhearing snippets of conversation? Or was I the picture of uptight? The picture of fear?

A peppy rendition of “Jingle Bells” came on the radio, startling me. At that same moment, Heather gasped. The car seemed to hydroplane across the road, sliding sideways before gaining traction again. I caught my breath, my heart pounding. None of the boys had woken up.

“That’s it,” Heather said firmly. “We’re stopping for the night. It’s way too icy out here.”

Heather found the first motel she could, and headed into the lobby to ask about vacancies. The rest of the car had woken when we’d pulled to a stop in the parking lot.

I sat nervously fidgeting for a while before I whispered, “Sawyer?”

He leaned closer. “Yeah?”

“I can’t pitch in for the motel. I have like seven dollars to my name. I can pay you back later though.”

“What? Oh. Don’t worry about it. Look at this place.” He gestured outside the window. “It’s probably fifty bucks a night, tops.”

“Thank you.”

I could tell he wanted to ask me questions about my money situation but then Heather opened the car door, waved a key card, and said, “One room, two beds, one couch. We will deal with this like adults.”

“But there’s only one adult here,” Wes said. “How are we supposed to do that?”

She chose to ignore him. “Everyone needs to schedule time for a shower because this car is getting ripe. We’ll leave as soon as the sun heats up the road a bit.”

She really was like a mini-mom.

We all piled out of the car and everyone gathered their luggage. I only had my backpack, which had next to nothing in it. Why had I packed all my toiletries in my check-on bag? I didn’t even have a change of clothes.

Heather directed us up a set of stairs and she unlocked a door at the top. The room was so cold I could see my breath.

“I’ll get the heat going,” Sawyer said, finding the wall unit.

Heather flung her bag on the closest bed and looked at me. “Are you okay sharing with me or do you want the couch?”

“I’m okay sharing.”

She went to the desk, grabbed a pen, and drew a grid on the top sheet of a pad of paper. “Fifteen-minute showers. Fifteen more minutes hanging out in the bathroom. Then your time is up. I get the first one so I can sleep after.”

It was nearly one a.m. Which meant the last shift would be from three to three thirty. That was the shift I would take since I wasn’t even paying for this.

Heather shut herself in the bathroom and Wes turned on the television. “We are not watching a weather channel,” he preemptively said. “We are watching something festive.”

“Festive?” Logan said. “What are you, ninety?”

Wes flipped through the channels until he came to a Claymation cartoon about a snowman.

“I’ll be right back,” Sawyer said.

“Are you checking to see if this place has a pool and a hot tub?” Wes asked.

“I’m going to see if they have a gift shop.” He pulled the door shut behind him.

This wasn’t exactly a five-star hotel. He’d be lucky to find a tube of toothpaste or a roll of Mentos.

I set my backpack on the bed and unzipped it, hoping to magically find the items that I knew I’d packed in my suitcase. My suitcase, still sitting on a plane. Or possibly already landed in Fresno.

The only thing in my backpack was a book I’d already read on the first leg of the trip, a pack of gum, a pair of headphones, and my passport. I made a mental note to always pack one change of clothes in my carry-on from now on.

The heater groaned menacingly but continued to putter out warm air. Ten minutes later, Sawyer knocked at the door.

Wes jumped off the bed, stood in front of the door, and called through it, “What’s the secret password?”

“If you don’t let me in, I’ll shave your eyebrows in your sleep.”

“Nope. It’s only three words,” Wes said.

“It’s cold out here.”

“That was four.”

I stepped forward, pushed Wes out of the way, and unlocked the door.

Sawyer wrapped me in a cold hug, trapping my arms at my sides. “This girl is the only nice one in this room. Thank you, Amalie.”

I laughed. “You’re cold. Stop stealing my heat.”

He immediately released me. And when he did, I noticed he held a small paper bag.

“You found what you were looking for?” I asked.

“Yes.” He took the bag to his backpack and tucked it away in one of the side pockets.

“You know,” I said. “As your mentor and the person who gave you the idea to give your crush gifts, I think I should probably have final gift approval to make sure you are picking out appropriate things.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Logan said.

“At this point,” Sawyer said, “it’s too late. These gifts are going to be between me and her.”

A tinge of disappointment settled in my chest and I wasn’t sure why.

“Oh!” Sawyer said, pulling something from his back pocket. “But I did get you this. You said all your toiletries were on the plane.” He held a packaged purple toothbrush in his hand.

I closed my eyes in gratitude. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s really for all our sakes,” Wes said.

This time I didn’t need to be dared. I took off my shoe and chucked it at Wes.

Sawyer was the second to last to shower. When he came out of the bathroom in a long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair wet, a trail of steam followed him. He’d only taken twenty minutes in there. Everyone else was asleep. The room was dark except for a single light on the desk, which was clicked onto its lowest setting.

I moved to take over the bathroom when Sawyer stopped me. “I left a clean T-shirt on the counter. If you want it, it’s yours. I left some other toiletries in there as well. You’re welcome to use them.”

“I don’t need to steal your stuff,” I protested.

“Please do. I doubt we’ll be stopping again for another shower before we make it home.”

“Thank you.”

“For getting you into this mess?” he asked.

“For being so nice.” I held up my packaged toothbrush and slipped past him into the bathroom.

Everything was … wet. Like four other people had been using it for the last two hours. There was a single dry towel left and I was grateful for that.

I took my time in the shower, letting the heat relax all the tense muscles in my neck and back. When I was out, I brushed my teeth for much longer than the recommended two minutes. Then I pulled on Sawyer’s T-shirt. It smelled clean, and it was big enough on me to double as a nightgown. When I went back into the room, the small light on the desk was now off but I saw a glowing light coming from inside the closet.

I walked over to the closet and saw that the door was cracked open and someone was sitting inside.

I slid the door open a little farther. Sawyer sat against the wall, several pillows behind him, reading a book by the light of his phone.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

He looked up. “I took that late nap in the car, and I didn’t want to disturb anyone.”

I glanced over my shoulder at all the sleeping forms: Heather on one of the two beds, Logan on the floor, and Wes on the couch.

I looked back at Sawyer. He tugged a pillow out from behind his back, set it against the wall next to him, and scooted over a bit. It was his offer to join him. So I did. I stepped into the closet, slid the door closed behind me, and sat down next to him. It wasn’t a huge closet, barely enough room for the two of us, side by side. Overhead two hangers formed another pair.

“Do you often read in closets?” I asked.

Sawyer grinned. “Surprisingly, this is my first time. You?”

“I can’t say that I have. But I have sat in a closet before.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes it’s the only place for privacy.”

“As I’ve learned tonight.”

“Until I interrupted you.” He probably just wanted a minute alone. He’d been stuck in the back seat of a car with me nearly continuously for the last thirty-six hours. I moved to leave. “Sorry.”

He grabbed my hand. “Stay.”

I did. He kept hold of my hand, staring at it. My heart picked up speed and my cheeks warmed. Then I chastised myself. I didn’t want to be a Candice or a Lisa or whoever else his sister mentioned that he’d dated, all the while thinking about his crush. Sawyer needed to let things play out with his crush before any other girl stood a chance. I gently took my hand back and adjusted the pillow behind me.

“When was the last time you sought refuge in a closet?” he asked.

I swallowed the lump that rose up in my throat at the memory. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

I swallowed a couple more times. Here in this closet, in the middle of the night, memories swirling in my brain, I felt like I needed to talk. Get a bit of this out before I had to face my parents. “I dropped out of the program.”

I don’t know how I expected him to react—a gasp, a look of disappointment, a shocked grunt—but he just nodded slowly, like he somehow already knew this.

“Why?” he asked.

“I couldn’t handle the pressure.”

“The girl who can sing in front of a packed stadium at a football game couldn’t handle pressure?”

“You saw that?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, is that the only time you’ve ever heard me sing? With horrible sound equipment on a windy night?”

“Yes, but it was really good. Amazing.”

I let out a scoffing sound.

“Until I have another performance to compare it to, I stand by my claim,” he said.

I looked down. “That’s the point, you won’t. I can’t sing anymore.”

“You can’t sing anymore?”

“Well, no … I mean, I can, just not in front of people, not when it matters.”

“It only matters if people are listening?” he asked.

“For what I want to do, yes.”

“Maybe …” He stopped and shook his head.

“What?” I asked. “Finish.”

“Maybe if it started mattering when it was just for you again, then the rest would …”

“Would what? Just fall into place? The rest wouldn’t matter? You’re right, you’ve cured me.” I could hear the anger in my voice. I was the one who asked him to finish his sentence and I was mad. The fact of the matter was that he was right. I had stopped appreciating music. I had forgotten why I loved it in the first place. It had become all about scoring a part. I still couldn’t conjure up the feelings of joy I once had when only thinking about a piece of music. I leaned forward, burying my face in my knees.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right, I don’t know anything about anything.”

“I’m not mad at you,” I said. “I’m mad at myself.” And that was true.

“Maybe being home will help,” he said.

I felt his hand tentatively touch my back, like he wanted to comfort me but wasn’t sure how I would react. He really was a nice guy. If his crush rejected him, I was going to be so sad for him. He deserved the girl he wanted and she’d be lucky to have him.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” I said. “Home.”

“And your parents? Are they going to be upset?”

“Yes. But after that. After the blowup, after the ‘you have to get a job and pay us back your tuition’ talk, then I’ll be home.” My shoulders relaxed a degree with just the thought. I was starting to believe that I would be fine once I was back in my familiar routines and surroundings.

Sawyer was quiet for a moment, then said, “If you ever need someone to practice singing in front of, I volunteer.”

I turned my head so my cheek now rested on my knees and I could see him. “I might take you up on that if only to erase the last time you heard me from your ears. No wonder you couldn’t think of an adjective to describe it before.”

He met my eyes. “Gorgeous, perfect, heavenly.”

If my face went red one more time, it was going to completely give away the fact that I’d joined the Sawyer fan club. I was developing a crush on this guy. And he had a backpack full of evidence that his heart was already taken. “Heavenly?” I repeated, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Better than ‘angelic.’”

“Barely.”

He smiled, and then his face went serious. “You’ll figure things out, Amalie. Sometimes you just have to let go for a little while.”

I suddenly remembered what his sister had said in the car—about Sawyer understanding my situation. “Are you speaking from experience?” I asked.

“Long story that I’ve let go of.” He gave me a smirk. “But it has to do with emotionally absent parents.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged.

“If you ever need to share that long story, I’m a pretty good listener,” I said.

“I’ll listen to your songs and you’ll listen to my sob stories? I think I got the better end of the deal, but I like this idea.”

“Although, your new girlfriend might end up being the jealous type.”

“True. She might be. That is, if this whole gift plan of yours works.”

“It will,” I assured him.

“I hope you’re right,” he said.

I hoped I was wrong, but I knew that was a very selfish thing to hope for, so I quickly made the opposite wish.

“Arizona has never looked so good,” Logan said the next afternoon, still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from getting a good night’s sleep on the motel room floor.

We were now nine hours from home. It was Christmas Eve. We’d make it to Fresno by Christmas. This thought made me happy.

“I know,” Heather said. “It’s so pretty and orange and dry.”

Sawyer was asleep on my lap, his jacket beneath his head. We’d been up most of the night talking in that closet. I was trying my hardest not to move so he wouldn’t wake up. I had been staring at him for the last hour and decided he was very pretty and that I was acting very creepy. Now I was trying not to stare at him. Instead, I was gently playing with his hair, which might have also been creepy, but I couldn’t stop—his hair was wavy and soft.

“What about you, Amalie?” Heather asked.

“What?” Had they been talking to me?

“Any Christmas Eve traditions?” She met my eyes in the rearview mirror and I could see that she was smiling. She knew. She could tell that I was crushing on her brother. I tried to put a casual expression on my face instead of the doe-eyed look that was surely there a moment ago.

“Um. Yes, we all exchange pajama gifts, and then we sleep in them that night,” I said, feeling another pang of homesickness.

“That’s fun,” Heather said.

“What about you guys?” I asked.

“We exchange one gift, nothing specific though,” she said. “And we eat lots of sugar.”

“We do too.” I smiled at the thought of my mom’s Christmas cookies.

“We talk about past Christmas failures in an epic passive-aggressive showdown,” Wes chimed in.

Heather shoved his shoulder. “Oh, come on. You have the best parents in the world.”

“I don’t know about the world, but they are pretty good.”

“We go up to Shaver Lake and tube,” Logan said. “I’m kind of glad I’m missing that right now because I’m so done with snow.”

“I actually wouldn’t mind a white Christmas,” I said.

Everyone in the car groaned.

Sawyer stirred and I froze. His eyes fluttered open and he sat up with a stretch.

“Did I drool on you?” he asked, looking at my jeans. “Because that would be mortifying.” He ran his hands through his hair and then over his face.

“Funny,” I said.

“Amalie was just wishing for the impossible,” Heather said.

“What’s impossible?” he scoffed, as if he could grant any wish.

“Snow in Fresno.”

“Oh, yeah, you might want to make a different Christmas wish.”

I met his eyes. “I’m working on that.”

“Logan, you have the bladder of a three-year-old,” Heather said as she pulled off the freeway.

“I drink a lot of water. It’s good for you. You all should learn from my example.”

“‘Mesquite, Nevada,’” Wes read a roadside sign out loud.

Heather parked in a gas station. “Don’t touch any of the slot machines here, you underage children,” she said, opening her door and jumping out.

When she shut the door, Wes turned and said, “Logan, I dare you to play one of the slot machines in the gas station.”

“Why?” Logan asked. “If I win, I can’t collect the money.”

“Just to make Heather mad.”

Logan seemed to think about this reasoning for a moment, then said, “Okay.” Then he and Wes both hopped out of the car.

I laughed and glanced at Sawyer as we climbed out of the SUV. “So Wes actually dares Logan sometimes too.”

“Wes dares whoever’s name comes into his head first.”

The air outside was warmer than it had been for the last several days. It felt good.

“Will you help me pick out a gift at this stop?” Sawyer asked, climbing out behind me.

“Yeah … sure,” I said, trying to sound good-natured about it. Don’t be jealous, I reminded myself.

The gas station store was decked out for the holidays. Colored lights were strung up and a lopsided Christmas tree was painted on the glass door. Inside, Logan was standing at the single slot machine by the front window. Wes was watching him, laughing, and Heather was giving them both her best “mom” look.

Sawyer and I wandered over to the souvenir aisle. Right away I saw a small stuffed blue bird and picked it up.

“You think I should get her that?” Sawyer asked.

“Oh.” I turned the bird to face him. “No, my mom used to call me her songbird and I keep seeing reminders of it.” I sat the bird back on the shelf.

A burst of laughter came from the front of the store and I guessed Logan had completed his dare. Then Logan streaked past us, heading toward the restrooms.

I picked up a replica of a gaming token. “You should get her this for sure,” I told Sawyer. “It represents this stop the best. Then you can tell her all about Wes’s dare to Logan.”

Sawyer nodded. “Okay.”

I kept studying the shelves, moving down the aisle. At one point, I happened to glance up and see Wes pointing at something and raising his eyebrows at Sawyer who stood next to me. Sawyer shook his head “no” several times. I pretended not to see, turning over more items on the shelves. When Sawyer turned his attention back to the shelves, I looked to where Wes had been pointing. A sprig of some sort of plant hung down from the ceiling above us. It took me a moment to realize it was mistletoe. My heart seemed to stop and then beat double time.

“Amalie,” Wes said.

“Wes, don’t,” Sawyer warned. He didn’t know I’d seen it.

“You and Sawyer are standing under mistletoe,” Wes continued, undeterred. “If you believe in Christmas at all, you must fulfill the age-old tradition.”

Seconds ago, Sawyer had looked annoyed, but when I glanced his way now, he just put on a patient smile. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Amalie,” Wes said. “I dare you.”

My heart still wanted to beat out of my chest but I tried to play cool and turned to Sawyer with a shrug. “In the spirit of Christmas?”

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“I know. You don’t either.”

“It’s not that, it’s just …”

His crush. I knew why he didn’t want to.

“How about on the cheek?” I suggested. I presented my cheek for him.

“Okay.”

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the dare that Wes had issued, maybe it was some stupid belief that if Sawyer and I kissed, some miracle would occur. But as Sawyer leaned toward me, I turned to face him at the last second. Our lips met. It was a quick peck and he pulled away quickly, his cheeks going red for once. Wes cheered.

As far as first kisses went, it wasn’t one that was going to change Sawyer’s mind about anything. It was too short and unexpected. Plus, he’d pulled away, like I was poison. I forced a laugh, hoping Sawyer wasn’t mad at me.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He put his arm around me and kissed me again, on the cheek this time. “Don’t be. You’re sweet.”

Sweet? Great, I’d gotten two kisses today. One real one, and the other the kiss of death.

Wes joined us in our aisle. “My turn?” he asked.

“Sure.” I stepped away, leaving Wes and Sawyer under the mistletoe.

Sawyer puckered up for Wes and got punched in the shoulder instead.

Sawyer took the fake coin up to the register, where the man told him no short of twenty times that it wasn’t real and was just a novelty and wouldn’t work on anything.

I kept browsing and noticed a stack of ninety-nine-cent bookmarks. I looked through the stack, picked one out, along with a bottle of water and a banana, then joined Sawyer at the checkout stand.

“What game are you going to use that coin on first?” I asked Sawyer.

“No,” the man said again. “It’s not real.” He repeated this ten more times and Sawyer narrowed his eyes at me. I bumped his hip with mine. When Sawyer left, I slid the bookmark I’d been hiding onto the counter with my other things and asked for a bag.

As we all walked back to the car, purchases in hand, I couldn’t help but think this had been the most fun I’d had in a long time.

“We have to stop on the Strip,” Sawyer said. “Amalie just told me that she’s never been.”

“You’ve never been to the Las Vegas Strip?” Heather asked me as she drove.

“No.”

“You’ve been to Italy but not Vegas,” Sawyer said shaking his head.

I looked outside. The sun was low in the sky, reflecting off the tall metallic buildings in the distance like some sort of siren call.

“Plus,” Wes said. “We can hit up a buffet for dinner.”

“We don’t have time for a tourist stop, children,” Heather said. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

The guys all erupted in various forms of begging.

“We have to at least see the Mirage volcano. It spews real lava!” Logan exclaimed.

“Okay, okay,” Heather said at last. “We’ll get food at a buffet and stop by two hotels. Make them count.”

Our first stop was in front of the Mirage hotel, to see the big volcano. I wasn’t sure what the point of it was, but it was large and there were tons of people looking at it. Then we had a cheap buffet dinner at another hotel, and Sawyer kindly paid for me. Now the five of us stood in front of the Bellagio hotel, waiting for the fountains to start. Apparently every fifteen minutes a song played in time with a water show.

“I think we should go to Fremont Street if we only get to stop at two places,” Wes said. “It’s way cooler than this.”

Sawyer held up his hand. “No. Amalie will like this one better.”

“Fremont Street isn’t even really on the Strip,” Heather pointed out. “We’re not going there tonight. We still have a six-hour drive home and Mom is already mad that we’re so late.”

“We can leave,” I said.

“No, we’re here. This is about to start,” Heather said, nodding toward the fountains. “If you like music, you’ll like this.”

The palm trees that surrounded us were lit up with green-and-white lights and the Bellagio loomed behind the expanse of water. Logan and Wes wandered off to the right, probably settling a dare of some sort, and I glanced over to Sawyer.

“I feel like I’ve kept you from having fun with your friends the last several days,” I told him. “Go ahead. I’m okay here.”

“What? Oh, no.” Sawyer shook his head. “I’ve been having fun. I got to hang out with them all weekend.”

I was about to respond when the first notes of “O Holy Night” rang out. My mouth clamped shut and my chest expanded. The fountain began spraying—two shoots of water, four, then a wave—all lit up white. My eyes watered as I held them open, unblinking, as the show continued. This was my song. I’d sung it in a Christmas program at the local theater a year ago. I loved this song. It made my heart soar.

All around us, the commotion seemed to pause, and everyone watched and listened.

This was why I loved music. Not because it brought me attention or won me praise or earned me spots in a showcase, but because it could affect emotions. It could speak to a person’s soul. It spoke to my soul.

The music built and so did the water, spraying a hundred, two hundred, three hundred feet into the air, probably higher. Goose bumps broke out all along my arms as the music hit its crescendo. And then it was over. The music stopped, the water collapsed back into the pool until it sat like glass, smooth and shiny.

I waited for the encore, but all was still. I was gripping the sleeve of Sawyer’s shirt and hadn’t even realized it. I let go.

People started walking again, moving around me. My cheeks were wet and I quickly wiped the tears away. Heather no longer stood at my side; I wondered when she had left.

Sawyer still hadn’t said anything. Had I completely embarrassed myself? I finally looked at him. “Thank you. That was …”

“Heavenly?” he asked.

I laughed. “I was thinking angelic.”

“I knew you’d like it.”

“I did. I loved it.”

“Me too,” he said. We were looking at each other now, neither of us making a motion to move.

“We should probably go. It’s Christmas Eve,” I said.

“Yes, we probably should.” He broke eye contact first and looked around for the others. They were up ahead, walking toward the hotel across the street where we’d valeted the car.

“Oh, you forgot to get a gift at this stop,” I told Sawyer, secretly happy. Maybe I had distracted him. Maybe he was thinking about me more than her at this point.

“I got something at that place we stopped for the buffet.”

“Oh … good.” Of course he had.

“Hey, guys!” Sawyer called, quickening his pace. “Wait up!”

It was after midnight when Heather pulled up in front of my house. Christmas morning.

“Thanks so much for letting me crash, everyone,” I said, looking around the car. “And, Heather, thank you for driving.”

“Of course,” Heather replied, turning in her seat. She gave me a warm, genuine smile. “It was great to meet you, Amalie. Come visit me and Sawyer sometime during break. We need a road trip reunion.”

“I’d love that,” I said, meaning it.

“Maybe Sawyer’s crush can join us,” Heather added.

I smiled at Sawyer, who stuck his tongue at his sister. “Fingers crossed,” I said. I waved good-bye to Wes and Logan, who waved back. Then I hopped out of the car and heard Sawyer follow after me.

“I’ll walk you,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said as I retrieved my backpack.

“You have a key?” he asked.

“I’ll go in through the garage.” I slung my backpack over one shoulder and walked over to the keypad next to the garage door. I entered the code and the door rolled up noisily. I looked at Sawyer. “Thanks for everything.”

“Just don’t look up your flight info online and see that your plane beat us.”

“Did it?”

“No, of course not.” He gave me his famous smile, letting me know that the plane had, in fact, beaten us.

“Either way,” I said. “I’m glad I did this.”

“Me too.”

The sound of a car window rolling down preceded Wes yelling out, “Come on, Sawyer! It’s late.”

“Good luck,” I said. “Are you going to give her the gifts you picked out tomorrow? Or later today, I mean.”

Sawyer tilted his head to one side. “Do you think I should? It’s Christmas Day. Would I be disrupting family time?”

“I think you should. Just don’t spend all day there.”

“Okay, good advice.”

“I give great advice,” I said.

“Merry Christmas, Amalie.”

“I got you something, by the way,” I added, my heartbeat quickening.

Sawyer frowned. “You got me something? For what?”

“I mean, it’s not much but your sister said your family always exchanges gifts on Christmas Eve and I saw this at our Mesquite stop and I don’t have a lot of money so I couldn’t get you something bigger or better or—”

“Amalie.”

I stopped.

He held out his hands. “Are you going to give me my super-cheap gift that needed a million disclaimers?”

I pulled the bookmark out of my back pocket and put it in his hands. Sawyer was quiet as he studied it. The bookmark had a picture of a bird on it, which I selfishly hoped would make him think of me every time he used it. Beneath the bird in scrolling script was the Aristophanes quote: By words the mind is winged. “Because you like to read …”

Before he could say anything, I pulled him into a hug. I closed my eyes, my chin on his shoulder. I wasn’t sure if I imagined it or not but it felt like he quickly kissed my temple.

“Merry Christmas,” I whispered. Then I rushed into the garage and through the door leading to the house. Once I was inside, I pressed my back against the wall and tried to listen for a shutting car door or an engine driving away. I couldn’t hear anything, but when I cracked open the door and looked, the SUV was gone. I let out a pent-up breath and pushed the button to close the garage door. Then I gathered up my courage to face being home.

The hallway was dark, but I could see lights from the Christmas tree glowing from the living room. That holiday smell I’d come to love assaulted all my senses and I almost cried. But I kept quiet. It would be disorienting and probably not productive to wake my parents up tonight.

I crept up to my brother’s room on the second floor. His room was right next to mine. He was only two years younger than I was, and we were close, but apparently not close enough for me to confide in him during the last several months in Italy. I stopped at his doorway, ready to knock, but I changed my mind. I needed sleep.

The first thing that woke me was the smell of bacon. I knew that my dad, the morning person, was up first to cook us a big breakfast before we filled our stomachs with sugary treats. I sat up in my bed. I hadn’t gotten enough sleep but I was immediately awake.

But I waited. I waited until I heard my mom and dad talking in the kitchen. I waited until I heard plates and cups being pulled out of cupboards and my brother’s door open and shut. And then I waited another five minutes before I slowly walked down the stairs.

When I arrived in the kitchen my family was eating. My brother saw me first and started choking on orange juice. While my dad was patting his back, my mom noticed me. She dropped her fork.

“Merry Christmas,” I said.

“Amalie?” Dad jumped out of his chair and crushed me in a hug. My mom and brother followed.

The happy reunion was soon interrupted with questions. Lots of questions. Some I had answers for, some I didn’t. It all came down to the final question. “So you’re dropping out?” It was asked by my mom and laced with lots of disappointment.

I thought her tone and her question would make me defensive, would make me unsure of myself again. But I didn’t waver this time.

“Yes, Mom.” I nodded. “I lost myself there. I was constantly comparing myself to everyone and it was all about the competition and was less and less about the music. I’ll get a job, I’ll pay back the money you spent on me. But I need to be here now. I need to rediscover everything I love about music. If this would’ve happened to me in college, it might’ve thrown me completely off course. But I have time and now I have this experience. I’m going to be okay.”

“You’re going to be okay?” Mom said.

I nodded, knowing it was true.

Mom burst into tears and hugged me again. “I missed you so much, Amalie. We all missed you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t realize what was going on.”

“I kept it from you.”

“Oh no!” she said, suddenly sounding horrified.

“What?” I asked.

“We mailed your Christmas! Your Christmas is in Italy now. We have nothing for you here.”

“Mom.” I took her by the shoulders. “You’re all here. That’s all I want.”

Apparently that’s exactly what every parent wants to hear because both she and my father hugged me again. Then we talked and caught up while we ate breakfast.

“How did you earn money to get home anyway?” Mom asked while I was scarfing down Dad’s delicious food. “I know that’s not a cheap plane ticket.”

“I gave voice lessons on the side for a couple months with some high school students in Milan,” I explained, blushing.

“Amalie, you know that’s not allowed,” Mom said.

“You’re right, I could’ve gotten kicked out.”

She gave a laugh/sigh.

“I know it’s super exciting that Amalie is home and everything,” Jonathan said, getting to his feet. “But unlike some people, I actually have presents to open. So …”

My mom smacked my brother’s arm playfully. “Jon, we haven’t seen your sister in months.”

“It’s fine, Mom.” I laughed. “Let the boy open his presents.”

“Oh, what,” Jonathan said. “You’re super old and mature now?”

“Super.”

We went into the living room and sat by the tree. I watched my brother open his gifts and it was nice. Fun, even. I glanced at my phone, not sure exactly what I was looking for. The only people that knew I was home—besides the people in this house—didn’t have my number.

Why hadn’t I given them my number?

A few hours later, my whole family was in the kitchen; Mom and I were putting wrapping paper in a garbage bag while Dad and Jonathan washed the dishes. Then the doorbell rang.

I looked at my brother and wiggled my eyebrows. “Is that your girlfriend?”

“We broke up.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, sis, why didn’t you tell me anything?” He smiled at me and went to answer the door.

A moment later, my brother came back in the room and said to me, “You’re back one minute and already more popular than me?”

“Someone is here for me?” My heart skipped a beat.

“Just someone delivering your luggage.”

I punched his arm several times while he laughed. I didn’t realize the airlines delivered luggage. And I had no idea they delivered on Christmas Day.

“Make sure you tip them,” my mom called as I headed toward the door. “I have some cash in my purse.”

I changed direction, grabbed a bill from Mom’s wallet, and then rushed to the door. “Sorry, I—” I stopped dead in my tracks. Sawyer stood at the door, my very large suitcase in front of him.

“Hi,” he said with a smile. “I thought you might want this.” He nodded toward my suitcase. “I see what you meant about your whole life being in here.”

“How did you … ?”

“I have connections at the airport.”

That’s right. His dad was a pilot. “Thank you. My mom said to tip you.” I held out the cash and he laughed but refused it.

I took the handle of my suitcase and wheeled it into the entryway, then gestured for him to come inside.

He glanced into the house behind me. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, come in.”

He stepped inside and shut the door. “I have something else for you,” he said. He pulled a box out from behind him that I hadn’t realized he was holding. It was shoebox size and wrapped in blue paper with silver bells on it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, surprised. “Were you feeling guilty that I got you a ninety-nine-cent gift and you got me nothing?”

“Yes, totally guilty.”

“Okay, I’m going to open this and then you’re going to tell me how your other gift-giving went today.” I led him to the front room off the entryway. The room we barely used because my mom liked to keep it clean for guests that rarely stopped by. I sat on the couch and Sawyer began looking at pictures on the wall.

I carefully peeled back the wrapping, then lifted the lid off the box. Inside were five small, individually wrapped gifts. I unwrapped the first one. It was a snow globe that said Breckinridge, Colorado, across the base. Inside was a little skier going down a hill. Had he picked something up at the first stop for me, too? The next present was the silver bird ornament from our second stop. I gasped and looked up. Sawyer was standing there, staring at me, a nervous expression on his face.

I was confused. He’d decided not to give these things to his crush but to me instead? When he didn’t say anything, I tentatively opened the next package. It was a pack of gum. I laughed a little. I knew he wouldn’t be able to find anything in that seedy motel lobby. I stopped and put the box on the couch next to me.

“Sawyer.”

“Amalie.” He swallowed hard and started again. “Amalie. I’ve been thinking about you for the last three years. Please don’t find me creepy,” he said, quoting Wes from the car.

My thoughts raced. Had Sawyer really been talking about me that whole time, or was he just being funny? “But—but you said you’d talked to your crush before and …”

“Once,” he said. “Last year, at Sarah Farnsworth’s graduation party. You were walking down the stairs into the backyard. I was standing in line to get a hamburger. I said, Hey, I almost wore my yellow sundress too. I’m glad I didn’t. You didn’t think I was very funny.”

My mind went back to that night, to his face and smile. I had thought he was just friendly with everyone. “I’d forgotten about that. I did think you were funny. I was just surprised you were talking to me.” I shook my head. “You’re right, that was you.”

“I know that was me. I see our school interactions were equally as memorable.”

“I remember we said hi a couple times in the hallway at school. But at the rental place, you didn’t even know my name.”

He laughed. “I knew your name, Amalie. You have to give a nervous guy a second to regain his cool. I hadn’t seen you in months and suddenly there you were, so chill and beautiful and I wanted you to drive home with us and my brain was working on how I could make that happen.”

I was reeling. I hadn’t expected this at all. “But when we stood under that mistletoe and I kissed you, you pulled away.”

“I didn’t want you to kiss me because of a dare.”

The dare had just been my excuse. I wanted to kiss him. “I’m sorry, I …” was overwhelmed and still processing everything.

“You said this gift thing might work,” Sawyer said, clasping his hands together. “Is it not working? Too much? I promise I haven’t been obsessing over you for three years.”

“No, I mean, it’s not that. I’m sorry I never …”

“Gave me the time of day?”

I laughed. “Yes? I thought you were in a different league.”

“I am. A lower one.”

“No.” Why was I still sitting down? Why was he still standing up? We seemed to both think this thought at the same time because I stood and he took a step toward me and then suddenly we were close. Face to face.

“Will you try again?” I asked.

“What?”

“Start over. Talk to me,” I said.

He inched a little closer. “Hey, Amalie. I almost wore my yellow sundress today too. I’m glad I didn’t.”

I laughed and hit his chest.

He put his hand over mine, holding me there. “Your turn. You’re supposed to say something back.”

I pushed up onto my toes and kissed him. This time he didn’t pull away quickly. He didn’t pull away at all. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. My hands found his shoulders and traveled to the nape of his neck before he smiled against my mouth and I was forced to pull away.

“You need to open the rest of my gifts,” he said.

“I’m kind of enjoying myself right here,” I said, but I went back to the couch anyway. This time he sat next to me, his hand on my lower back.

The next gift I knew because I helped him pick it out—the novelty token.

“Next time I’m in Vegas, I’m going to use this,” I said.

“It only works in Mesquite,” Sawyer said. “At least that’s what I think that guy told me.”

There was one more gift in the box. The one he’d picked out at our stop in Vegas. The one I was jealous that he had taken the effort to get when I didn’t realize it was for me. It was a T-shirt that said, I found my heart in Vegas. On the back it said, It belongs to Elvis.

“You weren’t supposed to look at the back,” he said.

I laughed and kissed him again.

“You must’ve given him a good tip,” Jonathan said, walking into the room.

I turned and stood, pulling Sawyer up with me. “Jonathan, Sawyer, Sawyer, my brother, Jonathan.”

“I know who you are,” Jonathan said to Sawyer. “You’re the school president or something, right?”

“Look at that,” Sawyer said, turning to me with a grin. “Even your brother knows me more than you did at the beginning of the week.”

“Anyway,” Jonathan said. “Amalie, Mom is requesting you sing us a Christmas song.”

I waited for my throat to tighten at that request. But it didn’t. I was home, with family … and with Sawyer. I may not have been able to sing to a crowd today or anytime soon, but I knew I could sing here, in this home.

I nodded. “Okay, tell her I’ll be right there.”

Jonathan left to deliver the message and I turned back to Sawyer.

“So, the last and only time you heard me sing was at a football game three years ago?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Wait … is that when …”

“I became instantly intrigued with you? Yes.”

My cheeks burned. “I now question your ability to discern good music. But come on, it’s time to wipe away the sound of horrible speakers from your ears.”

Sawyer’s face lit up. “I get to hear you sing?”

“Yes. And then tomorrow, I get to hear all your sob stories.”

“Again, not sure that is a fair trade-off, but I’m not arguing.” I started to drag him into the other room, but he pulled me back toward him and into his arms.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Do you know what I’m grateful for today?”

“What?” I asked, pressing my lips to his.

“Snow, and mistletoe.”