Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Silence settles between us. The last few years flash through my mind. How we first got together. All the changes in our relationship since Logan graduated from Briar. When he played for Boston’s farm team, I thought that schedule was hectic. Now he’s in the pros, and this schedule is a thousand times more intense.
I reach up to stroke his chiseled jaw. “There’s nobody else I’d rather freeze to death with than you.”
His chest vibrates from laughter. “Right back atcha, gorgeous.”
5:13 a.m.
I’m jolted awake by the sound of honking. Logan nudges me off him and reaches for the door.
“I think they’re here,” he says.
I fly into a sitting position. “It’s about time! They’re like eighteen hours late.”
“Two,” he corrects, grinning at me.
“In blizzard years, that’s eighteen.”
“Drama queen.” He chuckles and hops out of the car before I can take offense.
I zip up my jacket and follow him outside, where my heart immediately does a happy flip. Two beams of light break the pitch-black night. Or morning, rather.
I glimpse a shadowy figure, and then a male voice wafts toward us from the top of the slope.
“You folks called for assistance?”
10
Logan
After a quick stop at a gas station to refuel, and a text to the B&B owners that we’re on our way, Grace and I are back on the road. It’s completely deserted this morning. I suspect everyone is still in bed after whatever exciting New Year’s Eve party and will all wake up nursing unbearable hangovers.
Grace and I aren’t hungover, but we look it. Spending the night shivering and crammed in the back seat of a car does that to you. Yet despite my bleary eyes and sore body, it was one of the best nights of my life. Ringing in the New Year with Grace, a bottle of champagne, and a pact to eat each other.
I snicker at the memory.
“What’s so funny?” she says from the passenger side.
“Last night.” I offer a wry grin. “I was just thinking how much fun it was.”
“Fun? We almost died.”
“We didn’t almost die.” I spot a sign for our bed-and-breakfast up ahead and flick the turn signal. “We had an adventure.”
The advice Garrett gave me last week was spot-on. Spend as much time together as you can, go on adventures, and make memories. Last night may not have gone as planned, but we still had a blast.
“I have a better pact for us,” I announce.
Grace huffs. “Better than cannibalism? Yeah, I doubt it, sweetheart.”
A laugh pops out. “Trust me, sweetheart, it’s way better.”
“All right, hit me.”
“This is the pact.” I gesture between us.
“What do you mean?”
My tone softens. “You and me. The pact is that we spend as much time together as humanly possible. We don’t let our busy schedules control our relationship. If there’s no time, we make time.” I’m startled to hear my voice crack. “Hockey doesn’t matter. School, work. None of it matters if you and I are struggling. If we aren’t connecting.”
I’m equally startled to see tears well up in my girlfriend’s eyes.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It’s okay.” She wipes her cheeks. “It’s just…you’re right. The rest of it doesn’t matter. Yes, we have responsibilities to school and work, but we also have a responsibility to ourselves and our happiness. I’m not happy when we’re apart.”
“Me neither,” I say hoarsely. “That’s why we need to stick to the pact. You and me matter. I think the moment one of us feels unhappy in the relationship, or if we feel like the distance and time apart is affecting us negatively, then at the first available opportunity, we oughta do something like this.”
“Get stuck in a blizzard?” she teases.
“Go on an adventure,” I correct. “So what do you say—deal?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Deal.”
Snow crunches beneath our tires as I drive down the narrow lane that leads to the B&B. It snowed a ton last night, painting the entire landscape white. It’s beautiful. And so is the woman sitting beside me.
“We made it,” I say, slowing to a stop in front of the quaint two-story structure. I turn to give Grace a triumphant smile.
The front door of the B&B swings open to reveal a couple in their late fifties. They’re bundled up in parkas and scarves, the woman holding two huge mugs with steam rising from the top.
“John and Grace?” the man calls as we get out of the car.
“That’s us,” I call back.
“We’re so sorry for the early arrival,” Grace apologizes.
The woman dismisses that. “Oh, hush, don’t be sorry! We’re just happy you made it here in one piece. That blizzard last night! Good grief, it was a bad one!” She thrusts out the two mugs. “Some hot tea. I thought you’d need it.”
“Thank you.” A grateful Grace accepts one of the mugs.
I take the other, welcoming the cloud of steam that warms my face.