I’d always loved winter. I loved the sky—that endless white that merged seamlessly into the snow-covered ground. I loved the laughter and the cozy fires and the steam of hot chocolate rising up to meet red noses. I loved lips—chapped from smiling, dusted with crumbs from cookies. I loved the music and the bells and the slush that squished beneath your boots as you walked.

Of course, that was before. Before everything went wrong.

Now, as I stared out of the large, floor-to-ceiling-windows in the break room all I could see was a sky that seemed more gray than white. The residual snow piled in mounds, dirty and hard, in the parking lot—the never-ending freeze kept them frozen and permanent. The wind was cruel and biting, and each new snow storm brought with it an ache that didn’t leave your toes, fingers, or ears, until long after you’d warmed yourself back up. Every time I looked outside I felt lonely; I felt the loss of last year just as strongly now as I had on that day—the day the warmth and pleasantness of Christmas took its last breath on a hospital bed. The day wreaths and snowflakes and carols turned into symbols of loss rather than joy. The day he—

“Uh, hello?”

The voice startled me out of my reverie. I looked away from the window to my new boss who was standing in the doorway of the break room. I wondered how long he’d been standing there watching me. Then I pondered how long I’d been absent-mindedly stirring his coffee. My cheeks flushed and all of a sudden I felt like I was a teenager all over again; my stomach flipped as I looked at him. Like it always had.

His stern gray eyes glared at me from beneath thick, furrowed brows. His jaw was clenched in annoyance as he walked over to the sink towards me, so he was standing directly in front of me, blocking any chance to escape.

“If I had time to come and get my coffee myself, I wouldn’t need someone else to do it.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said, hastily removing the spoon. It hit the counter with an awkward clang and a spray of coffee splattered on its white surface. “Shit.”

He looked at me with a fierce scorn as I handed over the mug with an apologetic smile.

“I’m not paying you to daydream,” he said curtly, taking a sip. He met the drink with a grimace. “It’s cold.”

“I’ll make a fresh pot,” I offered quickly.

“Don’t bother,” he said icily, turning towards the door. “Just be thankful I don’t fire you.”

After he left the room, my shoulders slumped, the tension draining away. I wet the sponge and wiped the coffee off the counter and gathered myself. My heart was racing, and I held my chest for several moments before I felt my turbulent emotions settle.

Outside the window, it had started snowing. I concentrated on the chunky flakes as they fell, calming me.

It was only my second day on the job, and already it felt like it had been an eternity. It’s just temporary, I reassured myself before ringing out the sponge and returning to my desk. I can do this. I can survive a few more weeks with him as my boss.

* * *

At the end of the day, I braved the cold of the parking lot and climbed into my old blue Jeep Cherokee. The door squeaked when I opened it. My face still stung from the wind outside, my hands felt stiff and freezing even in their gloves. It was the coldest winter we’d ever had. I breathed into my hands and rubbed them together before shivering and starting the engine. It made a long choking noise before it roared to life. It was an old car, and it needed quite a bit of maintenance. The heater had broken months ago.

With my breath coming out in white puffs, I pulled my hat tighter around my ears and caught a glance of myself in the rearview mirror. My hair hung wispy and flat around my face. I looked tired and worn out. It didn’t help of course that my emotions were run ragged just being in the same building as him.

For a second I paused, staring at myself. It was amazing how much a person can change in a year and how the unexpected can through you for a loop. How loneliness and responsibility do more to age someone than wrinkles or white hair ever could. I readjusted the mirror, put the car into drive, and started home.

At dinner, when Liv asked me about my day, I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. And there was no way I was going to tell her about him, or how it felt like my chest had reignited the moment I’d seen him.

“It was fine. The usual. Boring office work,” I lied.

She saw right through it. “I didn’t think it could be worse than yesterday?”

“Don’t worry about it; it was fine,” I said again. “It’s only temporary.”

“You—we don’t need this. You don’t sleep as it is; you hardly eat. You shouldn’t have quit your job at the bookshop.” I sighed and looked at my still full plate of food.

“It’s not the job,” I continued, though I felt guilty for lying to her. My sister and I shared everything normally. “It’s just a hard time of year. You know that.”

I saw her eyes lower to the table. She didn’t like to talk about Dad. She shook her head like she was trying to get rid of a fly. “If you’d just let me help. I could get a job then you could quit this one and go back to work part-time at the bookshop. Then you wouldn’t be so mopey all the time.”

“No. We’ve already talked about this. I need to work full-time, and there’s no way I’m letting you work. You need to focus on school, get good grades. Besides this pays more. We need the money.”

She sat back in her chair, and her wild, curly blonde hair fell on her face. She huffed it away and stared moodily at the wall, her lower lip stuck out like it used to when she was little.

“You’re not the boss of me, you know,” she said. I let her say this, but we both knew I was the closest thing she had to a parent, even if we didn’t verbally acknowledge it. It was us against the world.

I reached out and ruffled her hair. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I promise. Let’s change the subject, how was your day?” I flashed her my most convincing smile, but she still seemed less than pacified.

I had been so excited to get the job. I’d been looking for work for weeks when the temp agency called. I remember answering the phone—looking at the pile of overdue medical bills and mortgage statements—finally feeling a piece of the giant weight on my chest start to lift as the agent told me they’d found me something.

But now, the weight felt doubled.

I found it darkly funny. I didn’t understand why my new boss hated me so much. Yesterday, my first day, I could’ve sworn I saw a flash of recognition cross his face, and yet he seemed to have a personal vendetta against me.

I’d said hello and then, nothing, just contempt. And that dark, moody stare he threw my way whenever I saw him. Of course, I couldn’t tell Liv about it. She was my sister and best friend, and the age difference had never gotten in the way of our closeness. I wanted to talk to her more than anything, but I knew if I told her she’d storm into the building ready to take out the man who’d caused my misery. I didn’t want her to worry; she was young; it wasn’t fair to put any of the stress I felt on her. She had always been quick to act, loyal to a fault, just like Dad had been.

Secretly though, I wished I could afford to quit the job. Those severe gray eyes—always glaring—haunted me. No matter what I did, I couldn’t please him, and I had to come to terms with that.

“Are you not going to eat?” Liv asked.

I’d been staring at my food with a faraway look. For the millionth time that day I’d been lost in thought.

I shook my head and slid my plate across the too small table and took my glass to the sink. I packed away the leftovers then squeezed her tight around the shoulders before going to bed. She was the best person in the world. We were in this together but the less she knew, the better. I could handle the job for a few weeks, being around him, practically torturing my heart every single day. I could do it for her. I had to.