by Maggie Knox
He stood on the driveway and lifted his hand as she pulled away; she lifted hers in return. On the radio, “2000 Miles” by the Pretenders was playing, and Cass knew that by the time Christmas day arrived, the distance between her and Miguel would be insurmountable.
14
Charlie
Sunday: 6 Days Until Christmas . . .
Starlight Peak
Staring up into the blue sky above her, Charlie felt immensely confused. A moment earlier she had paused at the trailhead marker, which showed the different hiking options on the Peak. Thanks to the early hour and the overnight snowfall, which made the evergreens look as though they were coated with icing sugar, her boot prints were the first on the trail. It had been a long time since Charlie had hiked Starlight Peak, particularly in the winter, and it only took fifty feet or so for her to realize she was overdressed.
So while she’d contemplated her route, she’d removed her coat and wrapped it around her waist, adjusting her sunglasses on top of her wool beanie as she considered which way to go. Straight up, she’d decided, because she was a touch short on time and needed to be back for the bakery’s opening.
But a second later all the air left her lungs in a whoosh as she was catapulted backward. Dazed and confused, the wind knocked out of her, she lay flat on her back in the deep snow, trying to figure out exactly what had happened. Her wool beanie had flown off her head, along with her sunglasses, and the snow was cold against her neck and scalp. Her chest constricted as she tried to take in a deep breath, and she gasped like a fish out of water.
“Bonnie, no!”
Charlie knew that voice. She tried to get up but was pinned. Bonnie was now relentlessly, and exuberantly, licking Charlie’s cheeks, and she wanted to laugh as she used her arms to try and shield her face, but she could barely get a breath in.
“Cass! Are you hurt?” Jake grabbed Bonnie’s collar and pulled her off Charlie, quickly fastening the leash and then tying it to a nearby tree. He told Bonnie to sit and she did so, plopping down obediently in the snow.
Jake turned his attention back to Charlie, kneeling beside her. “Don’t move too fast. Did you hit your head?”
He put a gloved hand under her head, the other cupping her shoulder. She knew there was no way she could really feel anything through the layers between them, but her skin warmed at his touch. He gazed intently into her eyes, checking her over. “I don’t think you lost consciousness.”
Charlie took a deep breath, felt her chest expand, her breathing almost back to normal. “I’m okay. The snow broke my fall.”
“Can you sit up?” Jake asked.
“I think so,” Charlie said. Now that her breath was back, she was totally fine. However, no need to spring up too quickly, as it was nice to have Jake so close again. Even though she knew it was probably best for them to keep their distance.
Charlie sat up and Jake kept a firm hand behind her back, murmuring, “Easy does it.” Bonnie strained to get closer to Charlie, but Jake gave her a short, stern, “Stay,” and she whined but sat back down.
“Don’t you worry about it, Bonnie. No damage done.” Charlie ran a hand over her head, feeling little icy clumps of snow that had balled into the strands of her hair. “This is getting embarrassing. How many times can I fall down or wipe out in your presence?”
“I’m the one who should be embarrassed. Of my goofball dog. Here, let me help you with that.” He took a glove off, gently removing some of the snow from her hair. Then he picked her hat up and, after shaking off the snow, put it back on her head, his hands lingering for a moment on the sides of her face before he tugged the hat down. Sitting back on his heels, he asked, “All good?”
She almost felt she couldn’t talk, but it had nothing to do with being winded. “Just a bit out of breath, but that might have more to do with the hiking than the Bonnie slam.”
Jake chuckled, then sighed as he looked over at Bonnie. “I’m so sorry, Cass. I let her off leash up here because it’s usually quiet this time of day, but . . .” His voice trailed, a hint of concern still on his face. “You really went down like a ton of bricks.”
“I’m not sure how to take that,” she said, laughing. She went to stand and Jake quickly stood as well, holding her firmly by her hands until he was sure she was steady. They both glanced at Bonnie now, who was making a ruckus as she rolled in the snow on her back, the leash getting tangled. Charlie went over and unwound the leash, then rubbed Bonnie’s belly. “You’re a good girl, Bonnie. I forgive you.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” Jake said. “Just before we left this morning she ate six bagels off the counter.”
“Oh, Bonnie! A girl after my own carb-loving heart.” Charlie and Jake exchanged a smile. But then everything that had happened two nights ago at the bakery surfaced in Charlie’s mind—the kiss, Brett showing up, the photos of Jake’s ex, the custody situation. The cold seeped back in, and she shivered.
“Well, I guess I should keep going,” Charlie said, handing Bonnie’s leash to Jake. She rubbed her arms a few times to expel the chill. “I need to get back to the bakery before opening.” She looked up the trail, wanting to escape the suddenly awkward moment but also wishing she had a reason not to.
“Right. Of course.” Jake cleared his throat, now looking everywhere but at Charlie. She wondered what he was thinking, if he was going over that night in his mind like she was. Remembering how their bodies molded together perfectly, like they were made for each other. A warm flush crept up her neck and into her face; she was glad her cheeks were already rosy from the cold.
“Okay, well. Take care.” Jake smiled, but now it seemed forced.
“I will. Thanks. Same to you.” Charlie nearly groaned at her formality. She longed to press herself against him, to feel his arms around her again, to . . .
“Cass? All good?” Jake ducked his head, looking into her eyes.
“Yes! I’m good,” she said as brightly as she could. “Enjoy your hike.” She gave a quick wave and then started up the trail but only took a few steps before it was clear they both had planned the same route; she and Jake practically banged into each other.
“Oh, sorry,” Jake said. “We’ll go this way.” He pointed to the more meandering trail, tugging Bonnie to follow him, even though the dog clearly wanted to go the other way.
“No, you go ahead. I’ll, uh, go this way.” Charlie went to step around Bonnie and Jake, but then he moved at the same time and they were suddenly in front of each other again. Close enough that Charlie could see the snowflakes landing on Jake’s amber eyelashes. Her legs quivered, which she told herself was because of the wind’s chill.
Jake laughed. “Since we can’t seem to stop running into each other, how about some company? We may hold you back, though. Bonnie is more into the, ah, experience of the hike versus the exercise.” They both watched the dog as she ran back and forth in front of them, stopping to sniff at the base of a tree or eat a mouthful of snow or bark at a squirrel.
“Sounds good to me,” Charlie replied, feeling at once nervous and happy to have this time with Jake. Even though she understood that as soon as they came down from the trails things would have to go back to the way they had been before.
* * *
• • •
The trail steepened quickly, and the snow crunched underfoot with each step, their breath leaving frosty wisps. She was glad it was Sunday, and that the bakery opened a touch later. It meant she had plenty of time to hike with Jake, get back for a shower, and then relieve Walter, who had practically pushed her out the door that morning.
“Cass, you know what you always tell me about the dough,” Walter had said, watching Charlie mismeasure the icing sugar for the cinnamon bun glaze—for the second time. She was restless and clumsy, and some of the powdery sugar tipped over the edge of the measuring cup, and Walter was clearly exasperated.
“Hmm? What?” Charlie had been focused on the icing sugar, double-checking the amount, and taking a deep breath to try and steady her hands.
Walter then adopted a serious tone. “ ‘The dough always knows.’ ”
She had stopped measuring and looked over at him. “ ‘The dough always knows’?”
He had given her a critical look, then shrugged. “Look, you’re clearly somewhere else. So why not do yourself—and the dough—a favor and go get some fresh air? We’re on track for opening, and I already started the Live.Li. You can just shut it off when you’re back.”
Charlie found Cass’s hiking boots in the closet and was dressed and out the door a few minutes later. She hadn’t expected to run into anyone, let alone Jake, on the trails, but was glad she had. It gave her an opportunity to clear the air, maybe set things right with Jake before she had to go back to L.A. She was lost in thought for the last part of the hike, but Jake didn’t comment on her quietness, though she saw him glance over at her a few times.
Turned out six bagels provided excellent hiking fuel, and Bonnie was still running circles around Charlie and Jake when the two decided to take a moment of rest at the top of the trail. The view of Starlight Peak was beautiful, the town nestled into the space between the snow-capped forest and hills. Hiking had been a big part of the twins’ lives growing up, their mom an avid outdoorswoman who had them on the trails basically as soon as they could walk. Charlie had a pair of hiking shoes in L.A., and though it was one of her favorite pastimes, she realized it had been well over a month since she had been up in the hills. She was so busy with the show it left little time for much else, particularly exercise, except for an occasional surf or run along the beach.
“I’ve missed this,” she said, taking in the view.
“Yeah, I guess you don’t have much time for hiking, with the bakery and everything.” Jake nodded, his eyes sweeping over the same peaks and valleys. The sun was now fully up, and it still snowed lightly, which made the sky sparkle in front of them. “Bonnie and I try to do this climb a few times a week. It’s good for her to have some time off leash.”
“I know how she feels. Work can be all-consuming. It’s hard to remember there’s more to life than the show.”
“ ‘The show’?”
“Oh, I just meant, like, work can be a sort of circus show . . . You know?” Charlie sipped her water, hoping Jake didn’t notice she was flustered.
“I can only imagine.” Jake took a canvas pouch from his small backpack and opened the sides until it formed a square-shaped bowl. “Things can get intense at the fire station, but I get days off. Which seems like a tough thing to manage when you own a bakery.”
“It’s hard to take a break,” Charlie said, thinking of Cass and how this was the longest she’d ever been away from the bakery. She wondered if her twin was missing her regular routines in Starlight Peak. “There’s always more to do.”
Jake nodded. “Especially when you love what you do.”
“I do love it.” Charlie, of course, meant her career in L.A., but between the familiarity of home, the bakery’s comforting predictability, and being here at the top of the peak with Jake and Bonnie, breathing in the fresh winter air . . . she could almost imagine an alternate reality. Here in Starlight Peak, with Jake.
Jake poured water into the bowl, and Bonnie eagerly came over and sniffed, clearly hoping for something delicious. But rather than have a drink of the water, she started to eat mouthfuls of snow from right beside the bowl. They both laughed, and Jake shook his head.
“I’m still adjusting to this one,” he said, patting Bonnie on the back while she licked at the snow. “Cody was a puppy when we got him, so I trained him from the start.”
At Jake saying “we” Charlie’s stomach clenched as she thought of the beautiful woman in the photos on Jake’s camera.
“Cody was your dog before Bonnie?”
“Well, I guess he’s my dog still, technically,” Jake replied, capping his water and sticking it back into his pack. “But he lives with my ex. It wouldn’t have been fair to drag him here.” His mouth twisted like he’d eaten something sour, and suddenly Charlie realized what Faye had meant about the “custody” situation. It was about Cody the German shepherd.
“Cody looked like a real sweetheart. Especially with that one floppy ear,” Charlie said. “I don’t know the circumstances, but that must have been so hard. To leave him behind.”
Jake squinted in the sunshine, and then made a snowball to throw for Bonnie, who delightedly chased it, barking as she did. “It was. It is, I guess.” He threw another snowball. “But it’s not all bad,” he added. Charlie flushed at his words, and at the way he flashed her a smile when he said them.
Jake was just about to throw yet another snowball for Bonnie when he turned toward her. “Hang on . . . How do you know Cody had one floppy ear?”
Charlie started to stutter out a reply, then held up her hands. “Okay, full disclosure. I may have taken a peek at your photos before I brought the camera back. I wasn’t prying, I promise. I just . . . I saw the pictures you took of the bakery, of me, and I scrolled back a bit too far. Sorry. I know it’s really none of my business.”
“I’m glad you liked the pictures, Cass.” Charlie felt the flush rising up her neck to her face.
“I did,” she replied, managing to ignore for the moment that he still thought she was her sister. “And while I’m sure you miss Cody, Bonnie is as lovable as any dog I’ve ever met.”
“She really is.” Jake laughed at Bonnie as she frantically dug into the snow, trying to find the last snowball he’d thrown for her. “And Cody’s better off with Nadia, honestly. She always spoiled him.”
Nadia. His ex, with whom he shared a dog, but not a child. Definitely less complicated than she initially imagined. But then her mind went back to their kiss . . . How was she going to fix all of this?
Jake nudged her gently with his shoulder. “Hey, where did you go?”
“Just thinking about the bakery.” Specifically, about their kiss in the bakery. Charlie shook her head to bring herself back to the present. “I have a lot still to do this morning. Dough can only be patient for so long.”
“Then let’s head back, okay?” Jake said, and Charlie agreed. He called to Bonnie, and she came running, eager for whatever fun awaited her next. “Good girl,” he murmured, rubbing his gloved hand over her snow-dampened fur.
Bonnie was delighted, her tail wagging as she shimmied closer to Jake for more attention. Was it weird to be jealous of a dog? It was, of course, but Charlie wished she could be forthcoming with Jake, about who she was, and how she felt about him.
“After you.” She gestured to the trail, and before Jake could take a step forward, Bonnie raced ahead, leaving a flurry of flying snow in her wake as she barreled down the trail. They sprinted after the dog as quickly as their boots allowed on the snow-covered path.
* * *
• • •
There was snow on their cars when they got back to the small parking lot at the base of the hiking trails, and Jake made quick work of brushing off his truck and Charlie’s car before he put Bonnie in his truck. Then he turned back to Charlie.
She checked her watch, not sure what exactly to say. “I really need to—”
“Cass, I really need to—”
They smiled at each other, then both looked away. Jake let out a long breath. “Look, I need to apologize,” he said.
“For what?” Charlie asked, her teeth chattering with the cold. Jake reached over and tugged at the knotted sleeves of her jacket around her waist. He was so close to her that she almost felt like there wasn’t enough air between them to take a full breath. Untying the knot, Jake took the coat and then held it out for her.
“Thanks, that’s better.” She was less chilled now, because of the coat, but also because of Jake’s proximity. The
desire to just go ahead and kiss him already was intense, but she resisted. “And you don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“I shouldn’t have let things . . .” Jake began, pausing a moment before adding, “I should have respected the boundaries better, Cass, and I—”
Charlie interrupted him, desperately wanting to move past this gut-wrenching moment because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up this facade. “Again, you have nothing to be sorry for.” If anyone should be apologizing, it was Charlie. “How about we agree to just forget all about it, and move on?”
Jake looked surprised, and not in a good way, and Charlie immediately wanted to take back what she had said.
“Oh right. Sure thing,” he said, his face set in a frown.
“I’m sorry.” Charlie was flustered, hating that she had just hurt Jake and now wondering what he had been about to say before she interrupted him. “I just thought you meant—”
Jake took a small but meaningful step away from her then. “No worries. I completely understand. And probably for the best.”
“Probably for the best,” Charlie repeated. She offered Jake the warmest smile she could, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. “I hope we can be friends?”
“We already are friends, Cass,” Jake replied, his voice soft. “That won’t change.”
She nodded, tears welling up and taking her by surprise. To avoid Jake seeing how emotional she was, she bent down to retie one of her boot’s laces, glad for the temporary distraction.
“So, hey. It was nice running into you,” Jake said, now at the driver’s side door of his truck.
Charlie stamped her boots gently to rid the treads of snow, raising an eyebrow as she looked pointedly at Bonnie. The dog had her furry face pressed against the glass of the truck’s window, whining as she watched Charlie and Jake outside. “Quite literally.”
Jake laughed, but it was short and didn’t carry much joy. Charlie knew exactly how he felt.