That night, news footage shows a candle-light vigil at the lodge and the search team still on the mountain, long after the sun has set. “Crews will continue to search until everyone is accounted for. At last count, there are twelve people missing. Officials say—”
“Twelve? Omigod.” I clap my hand over my mouth and Dad squeezes me closer to his side. We’re on the couch, our half-eaten pizza growing cold on the coffee table.
“—may cancel the Eldora Dash, the annual race scheduled for the end of the month. But right now the focus is on locating the missing skiers.”
“Did she say?”
Dad presses a kiss to my head. “Don’t worry about that now.”
“But—” A ski competition is silly compared to what’s happening. I know that. But I want this so bad and I’ve worked so hard.
We watch the news until they switch to a more uplifting story, then Dad puts on a movie and I fall into a restless sleep on the couch. I dream that I’m with Reece, buried under ten feet of snow, then that I’m the one trying to dig him out and no matter how deep I go, I can’t get to him. When Dad finally sends me to my room I’m an exhausted, sweaty mess.
A text from Blake came while I was sleeping. Still nothing.
:((
Still on for tomorrow?
Yeah, noon at the brewery.
Night.
I start to write xoxo, then delete it. “Ahh, screw it.” xoxo. I press send before I can change my mind. Time stops until my phone finally dings.
<3
I hug my phone to my chest, glad that no one can see my goofy smile. It feels wrong to be happy when Reece is buried on the side of the mountain, fighting for his life, but I chalk it up to appreciating things more in the face of tragedy. Or something like that.
I stay up later than I mean to, not wanting to go to bed until there’s been news. The unknown is almost worse than knowing. My brain won’t stop running through everything that could be happening, and the longer I don’t hear anything, the more I come to terms with the idea that Reece might be dead.
The next morning, I drag myself out of bed early to head to the brewery with Dad, and there’s still no news about Reece. We set our bagels and coffee on a table near the bar, and I make a mental checklist of what needs to be done while we eat. He claims he needs my feminine touch for the opening.
I nod at a stack of boxes pushed up against the bar. “Glasses?”
“They came in yesterday.”
I wipe my hands on my jeans and rip the tape off a box. The looping, whimsical Calliope Brewery logo is etched on one side. “Dad, they’re gorgeous.”
He smiles, and his eyes glaze over to a faraway place. “I’ve always liked that logo.”
The story is it was inspired by my large, loopy handwriting from when I was a child—prettied up, of course—and Mom insisted that if they were naming the brewery after me, it may as well have my mark. “She’d be proud of you.”
He looks at his hands, the smile lingering. “I was going to say the same thing to you.”
We sit in silence, both lost in our memories of Mom, when the door opens.
Dad turns, wiping his eyes. “We’re not—oh.”
Blake’s standing in the half open door.
I glance at the clock over the bar. It’s not even nine. “I thought we were meeting at noon?”
He shrugs and steps inside, sealing the cold air outside. “You said you were getting things set up so I thought, I don’t know, maybe I could help?”
The uncertainty on his face makes him even more adorable.
I look at Dad, who frowns. “Sorry, you need to be twenty-one to come in here.” Blake pauses, and Dad laughs. “Come on in. Who am I to turn down free labor?”
Blake relaxes and slips out of his coat. “Where do I start?”
Dad puts us to work filling the shelves behind the bar with the tear-inducing glasses while he does something in the office.
“Thank you for coming.”
Blake turns a glass so the logo is facing out, then slides another next to it. “I had ulterior motives.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Well, I wanted to see you, but I’ve been curious about this place, too. And,” he looks over his shoulder toward the office, “I figure it doesn’t hurt to let your dad see what a swell guy I am.”
I snort. “Swell?”
He pushes his hair out of his face. “You know, clean-cut, straight-laced. All that stuff.”
I take in his hair that’s tousled so perfectly I want to run my fingers through it and laugh again. “I don’t think that’s how I’d describe you.”
“Oh yeah? How would you describe me?” He rests his forearm on the edge of the top shelf and I want to tuck myself into the space beneath his arm.
“Let’s just say clean-cut and straight-laced isn’t it.”
He reaches for a strand of my hair and twists it around his finger. “Now I’m really curious.”
Sexy. Funny. Mischievous. “Well, you’re not so bad to look at, and you’re pretty funny most of the time. And I guess you’re fun to be with.”
He moves closer. “You guess?”
I look up at him through my lashes. “From what I’ve seen so far.”
His lids grow heavy and he trails his finger along my cheekbone, sending shivers down my back. I’m closing my eyes to kiss him when a drawer shuts in the back room. I jump away just as Dad emerges from his office.
“Those glasses look great! Blake, how are you at moving tables? Cally doesn’t seem to think the way I’ve arranged them has the right flow.”
Blake crosses his arms and puffs out his chest. “Just tell me where you want me.”
I press my hands to my cheeks. Dad doesn’t seem to realize what he almost interrupted but I still feel like we were caught with our tongues down each other’s throat. Blake smiles so his dimple shows and I swat his arm. “You’re not helping,” I whisper.
Blake leads me out from behind the bar and stands with his hands on his hips, surveying the room. “What are you thinking?”
Tables. He means the tables. I weave through the tables to the front door, then turn and face them. “You want to create a path that sucks people to the bar.”
Dad smirks. “I thought my excellent beer would do that.”
“Well, yeah, but you want people to feel welcomed, like the brewery’s giving them a hug from the minute they walk in.” They both raise their brows and I wave a hand at them. “Come on, you know what I mean. Haven’t you been to a place where, from the moment you step inside, you feel comfortable? Like you want to settle in and never leave?”
They nod half-heartedly.
“This space here,” I wave at the large opening near the front door, “this is too open. People come out because they want to be a part of the action, so put them in the middle of it as soon as they step inside.” I touch my finger to my lip. “Although if you do that, then you don’t have a place for people to stand while they’re waiting for a table.”
“What about here?” Blake points at two tables wedged against a wooden support pole. “This is prime leaning space.” I tilt my head at Blake, and he shrugs. “We had the same problem at the restaurant until we rearranged the tables.”
Dad rubs a hand over his jaw. “That makes sense. I’ve been to places where you have nowhere to wait.”
I nod. “You feel like you’re in the way and by the time you get to your table, you’re in a bad mood. Or at least I am.”
Dad rests his hand on the beam. “I wonder if it’s too late to add a ledge for glasses.” He grabs a notebook off the table with our bagels. “Remind me to increase your allowance.” He scribbles a note and nods. “What else you got?”
I walk them through the rest of the brewery, channeling my inner HGTV and pointing out details that will make Calliope stand out. “The artwork seems a little high. Maybe lower it so it’s eye level?” I glance at Dad and he’s still writing, so I take that as approval. “The bookcase with games should be closer to the area with couches, and you need hooks under the bar and on the ends of the booths.”
Blake tilts his head. “Hooks?”
“For purses and coats. I will never forget these ladies who sat near us last winter going crazy because the tables had hooks and they didn’t have to rest their purse on the table or the floor.”
Dad nods. “Got it.”
I turn in a circle. “And I think that’s it.”
Dad gives me hug. “It sounds like I need to make another trip to the hardware store. Can you two handle the other things while I’m gone?”
My stomach flips. More time alone with Blake. “Sure, Dad.”
He grabs his keys off the table and points a finger at me as he walks out the door.
“Yeah, yeah.” I face the bookcase. “Let’s start with the games. It makes sense to have them by the couches, right?” I look up at Blake just as his head dips toward mine. His arms slip around me and I melt against his body as his lips move over mine, sending my nerve endings on fire. I reach for his hair, tangling my fingers behind his head and pulling him closer. He tightens his grip and takes a step forward, moving us toward the couches. I pause when the back of my legs hit leather. “The store isn’t far away.”
His normally bright eyes are dark, and his lips are swollen from our kiss. We’re both breathing heavily and I want to fall back onto the couch and lose myself in him, but Dad won’t be long. I press another kiss to his mouth then slide away from him.
He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “Bookcase. Right.”
I smile at him and we burst out laughing.
We’ve got the boxes of games rearranged and are in the middle of a fierce game of Jenga when Dad returns. “Don’t worry, Blake’s about to lose, then we’ll get back to work.” I slide a piece from near the bottom and place it at the top. The tower wobbles, but doesn’t fall, and I smirk at Blake.
I expect a teasing comment from Dad, but he’s watching us from the doorway, his face pale.
My stomach twists. “What?”
“You haven’t heard the news?”
The avalanche. I’ve been so preoccupied with Blake and setting up that I didn’t think to check. I shake my head. “Did they find everyone?”
Dad nods.
Blake’s voice cracks. “Are they alive?”
“They rescued nine people, but three people died.”
I lean back and the Jenga pieces scatter. “Omigod.”
“Who?”
Dad clears his throat. “A married couple and,” he pauses, watching me. “And a boy from your school. They’ve already released the names of the victims.”
Blake stiffens next to me. “Was it Reece?”
Dad nods and a wave of nausea sweeps through me. Reece can’t be dead. He’s so full of life and energy and— “Are they sure?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.”
We sit in silence, each lost in our thoughts, the only sounds the furnace kicking on and the tick of the clock over the bar. This doesn’t feel real. Kids my age aren’t supposed to die, especially not on the side of a mountain. Driving, sure. But the mountain is my safe place and now I don’t know what to think.
I rest my head in my hands, my eyes burning for a boy I barely knew. But while I might not have known Reece very well, I know what this will do to his family. And so does Blake. I lean closer so our shoulders touch. “You okay?”
He shakes his head. When he speaks, his voice is thick. “Everything about Cody is playing in a loop in my head. When he fell, being at the hospital, the funeral—“ He stops abruptly and I rest my hand on his. Sometimes words can’t make things better.
After a while Dad moves to my side and rests a hand on my shoulder. “You know I’m here if you need me. Both of you.”
I nod, and look at Blake. His face is pale and his eyes shine with unshed tears. I squeeze his hand as my phone dings with a text.
It’s Mike. Have you heard?
Yeah. I can’t believe it.
Everyone’s going to school.
Now?
Yeah. It’s some sort of vigil.
“Everyone’s at the school.”
Blake faces me, his expression unreadable.
Dad clears his throat. “You should go be with your friends. I can finish up here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Be home in time for dinner.”
I nod, feeling numb. I slip into my coat on autopilot and Dad pulls me into a hug.
“Are you gonna be okay?”
I tuck my face against his shirt. “I don’t know. I feel helpless.”
“I’m here if you want to talk.”
“Thanks Dad.” I step away and Blake holds out a hand to Dad.
“Thanks for letting me help today, sir.”
“You’re thanking me for letting you work?” Dad smiles at me. “Okay, maybe I’m starting to like him.”
I try to roll my eyes but give up mid-roll. My heart’s not in it.
Dad gives me another hug at the door and whispers, “At the very least, I can see why you like him. He seems like a good kid.”
Blake’s parked in front, but I hesitate in front of his Jeep, not ready to leave just yet. “Can we walk a little?”
We wander through downtown hand in hand, not talking, but taking comfort in each other’s presence. I stop near a sculpture of a frog.
“Reece is the first person I’ve known who’s died since my mom. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
Blake pushes a pile of snow with his toe. “I don’t think we’re supposed to know.”
It’s not an answer, but knowing he feels as helpless as I do makes me feel less alone and I’m grateful that we have each other. He doesn’t mention his brother again but he has to be thinking about him.
When I’m so cold I can’t feel my face, we head back to his Jeep and drive to school. With death so strongly on my mind, I can’t help but think of Mom and the way she died. Blake’s motions are effortless—step on the clutch while he shifts, turn the wheel with one hand—like he doesn’t have to think about how to make the vehicle move. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that.
He turns into the school parking lot. Dozens of cars are parked near the main entrance. I spot Mike—on crutches—and head her way.
I give her a hug. “Is it broken?”
“Torn ligament. I might need surgery but they won’t know for sure until the swelling goes down.”
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have made you go on that run.”
She adjusts her grip on the crutches. “It’s not your fault. I was doing fine until the mountain exploded.”
I smile. “Yeah, you were.”
A girl carrying a cardboard box stops next to us and hands us each a candle. Mike’s gaze falls to the ground. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Did you know him well?”
“He and Evan are pretty tight so he was pretty much always there.” She bites the corner of her lip and closes her eyes. “I can’t even imagine what he’s going through.”
Blake puts his arm around my shoulder. “Is he here?”
“Yeah, but I haven’t seen him.”
People continue to arrive, filling in the sidewalks and grass in front of the school, but the candles aren’t lit until Evan makes his way through the crowd. He looks exhausted as he climbs onto the low wall along the main sidewalk and looks out over the crowd. He starts to talk, then closes his eyes. Pressing his hand to his throat, he tries again. His voice is hoarse but he holds his candle out for everyone to see. “Reece was my best friend. Anyone who knew him... loved him.” His voice cracks. “It won’t—it won’t be the same without him. He just made everything... better.” He lowers his head and the people closest to him touch his arms in an attempt to console him. When he lifts his head again, tears stream down his face. “I can’t believe I’ll never see him again.” He jumps off the wall and is engulfed in a group hug.
Tears burn my eyes and I lean into Blake’s body. He tightens his grip.
Mike’s eyes haven’t left Evan. I expect to see tears when she turns around, but she’s scowling. “I can’t believe those bitches are acting like they care.”
I crane my neck to see who she’s talking about, but I know who she means before I see them. Of course the Bunnies are front and center. Forget that Evan’s made it clear he doesn’t like them—they’ve got their arms wrapped around him as if their world is collapsing, too.
Blake shuffles toward Mike, keeping me tucked against his side, and I wrap an arm around her. She tucks her head into my shoulder and her body shakes.
Other people stand on the wall and share their memories of Reece, and soon everyone around us is sniffling. Even Blake. I touch his cheek and his eyes meet mine. I search for the right words but nothing is right. Kids our age shouldn’t die.
A hand grazes my arm that’s holding Mike.
Evan.
His normally bright eyes are red and swollen, and he looks like he’ll never smile again. I gently push Mike toward him and they hold each other, sobs wracking their bodies. I nudge Blake away and rest my head on his chest, lost in thoughts of death and loss and how just when you think you have life figured out, something happens that rips it all to shreds.