Everett
The cold air stings my face as the snowmobile roars beneath me, but I can’t stop smiling.
Last night’s tree lighting ceremony replays in my mind on an endless loop: Melody’s eyes reflecting the Christmas lights, her hand in mine, that moment when I thought maybe I could kiss her.
Last week, I was drowning in things to do; now I’m buzzing with excitement, especially after Gabe told me what happened with Melody.
Ahead of me, Gabe maneuvers his snowmobile around a cluster of pines. I follow his path. We’ve done this route hundreds of times since we were teenagers, back when my dad would let us borrow the snowmobiles if we promised to check the property lines.
“Keep up, Pine!” Gabe calls over his shoulder, accelerating.
I gun the engine; the machine leaps forward with a satisfying growl. For a moment, we’re sixteen again, racing through these woods without a care in the world beyond who’d reach the north ridge first. Before financials and family expectations. Before dad died. Before Gabe left for the city. Before Granny May got sick.
I catch up to him as we break through the tree line into a small clearing. He stops, pulling off his helmet, his breath clouding in front of him.
“You’re getting slow in your old age,” I tell him, cutting my engine.
“Says the guy who was eating my snow the whole way up.” He grins, the expression transforming his usually serious face.
The silence that follows is comfortable, the kind only possible with someone who’s known you since you still believed in Santa Claus. We survey the land spread below us, Perfect Pines in its winter glory.
“Miss this?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
Gabe nods, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Every damn day.”
“Then come back. I know that equity gig is killing you.”
He sighs, “It’s not that simple.”
“It could be.”
“Finn loves the city.”
“Does he?” I raise my eyebrows. “Because, as dramatic as he is about the snow and the cold, he hasn’t once mentioned missing the city. I think he secretly likes it here.
Gabe’s quiet, considering. “We’ve built a life there.”
“You could build one here. Especially now… with Melody.”
“When she was standing between us at the tree lighting—.”
“—Everything clicked into place,” I finish for him, remembering the sensation. Melody between us, Finn beside Gabe, the four of us together forming something more.
“What ifshedoesn’t want to stay?” Gabe asks. “Her life is in the city, too. Her job, her apartment—”
“A job she hates and an apartment she complained had no personality,” I interrupt. “Have you noticed that? She’ll talk about her boss, what an ass he is, but never about missing her place, her life there, or her family.”
“So what’s the plan?” Gabe asks.
“We help them fall in love with Snowflake Valley,” I say with a grin.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Gabe says, a smile spreading across his face.
“You bet I am.”
I smile, scanning the trees.
Perfect Pines has been in my family for three generations. My grandfather bought this land and planted the first Blue spruce trees over sixty years ago, my father expanded the operation by planting Balsam fir and Fraser fir saplings, and now it’s mine, one hundred acres of pine-covered heaven that’s more home than any building could ever be.