Page 70 of Falling Like Snow

Micah must notice me glance at my best friend because he says, “We can all go together.”

Relief washes over me. “Yeah, all right. Let’s do it,” I say, even though I’m not even sure if I have to work the event yet.

Micah grins at me. “ ’Kay. Can’t wait,” he says, then pivots and skates off toward his friends.

Asher stands and silently brushes the snow off his pants.

“You want to join girls’ night and watch You’ve Got Mail with us?” I ask when we finally make it to the bench.

He unlaces his skates. “I think I’ll pass. It was a long week. I’m tired.”

We slip our feet into our boots. Asher gets the thermos of hot chocolate out of his bag and hands me a container of white and light blue snowflake-shaped sprinkles.

“Thank you,” I say, pouring some directly into my mouth. “For all of this.”

He passes me the plastic thermos cap of chocolate deliciousness. “You’ve already thanked me.”

“And I will continue to do so. This is seriously amazing,” I say. “I can’t believe you made a taxi.”

“I did all this work and you’re most impressed by the taxi sign on my car? It was made out of an empty pizza box from Cheesylicious, and the duct tape is most likely going to ruin the paint job.”

“Well, maybe if you’d built me a walker to push around on the ice, I’d be most impressed by that…” Asher groans, and I bump my shoulder into him. “I’m kidding! I am thoroughly impressed by every single detail of the night. In fact, I think we need a picture. We are making new December memories, after all.”

Asher sips straight from the thermos, then he smiles at me, the sincerity of it lighting up my insides. “I think you’re right.”

He takes out his phone and snaps a picture of us holding up our drinks and making silly faces.

We finish our hot chocolate, and I polish off the sprinkles as we watch the hockey guys pass the puck around for a bit. Then Asher drives me home.

Outside my house, I open my car door. “I’m sorry the night was cut short by the hockey team showing up.”

“Yeah, me too,” he says. “I was having a pretty okay time being your personal crash mat.”

I laugh. “Thank you for that. Again.” He nods once and looks out at the street stretched in front of us, his face pensive. “You sure you don’t want to come in?”

He turns back to me. Light from a garland-wrapped lamppost shines through the windshield, highlighting the contours of his face as silence lingers between us. Then he gently raps his knuckle on the steering wheel, snapping out of his thoughts, and smiles. “Nah, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I study him and the way his eyes seem to say something I can’t read. I hate that he won’t tell me what he’s thinking.

“Naturally,” I say, stepping out onto the street.

“Good night, Sloane.”

“Yeah. Night.”

I close the car door, and Asher drives off, his taillights fading into the distance.

Chapter Eighteen

“Emergency!” I yell, slamming the front door closed.

Mom jumps off the couch and comes running, Aunt Annie and Ellis following close behind.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asks, eyes wild with panic. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I yank my boots off with both hands, not bothering to untie them.

“Sloane! Do I need to call 911?” Mom asks.