• • •
I climb out of bed, careful not to wake Theo or Miles. Cautiously entering the kitchen, I’m not sure what I’ll find.
But everything seems normal. Aside from the missing holly garland that the twins haven’t yet put up in the kitchen, everything looks exactly like it did when we left only five days from now. Or is it two days ago? Who the hell knows.
Ricky shuffles in just after I do. His salt-and-pepper hair is tidy up front but a holy mess in the back. His eyes are still squinty, but he beams so brightly at me it causes an actual ache in my chest. I give myself a second to celebrate that I’m really here, in this kitchen. I thought I’d lost this.
“Maelyn Jones,” he says hoarsely, “you and me are two peas in a pod.”
Inside, I am glowing, waiting.
He sits down with a groan. “We both wake up with the sun.”
Ahhhhh. There it is.
“You know the worst thing in the world would be never hearing you say that again?” I kiss the top of his head and then pour him a cup of coffee in his favorite reindeer mug.
“Why would you even worry about that?”
I don’t answer. Hard to explain, Ricky.
But the thought lands again, heavier now, like a stone in a river: I thought I’d lost this. I thought I would never have this moment again with Ricky, in this kitchen, and here I am. Does he have any idea what a gift this place is to all of us? The cabin makes me more than happy, it makes me feel grounded. Am I getting a chance to keep them from selling?
He takes a long sip and sets his mug down. “How’re you feeling this morning, Noodle?”
Me? How I’m feeling is suddenly the least of my worries. With clarity about a possible purpose comes an exhilaration so profound it can only mean that I’m on the right track. After all, the ceiling didn’t fall and the floor didn’t open up to send me back to the plane.
“I’m fine.” I lean back against the counter. I’m smiling at Ricky over my coffee, but my thoughts are a cyclone of recollecting, plan making, playing it cool. “Better than ever, actually.”
I turn to the sound of feet on the stairs to see a sleep-rumpled Benny peeking around the corner. He holds a finger up to his mouth and motions for me to come toward him. A glance over my shoulder shows Ricky happily sipping his coffee and already at least three cookies deep into the shortbread tin, so I push off the counter and quietly make my way into the hall.
With a hand on each shoulder, Benny bends at the knees, peering into my eyes.
I wait for an explanation. None comes. “Yes?”
“Just looking.”
“For?”
“Not sure. Trying to remember the signs of a concussion.”
I roll my eyes and pull him up. His cardigan is shockingly soft. “Is this cashmere?”
He stares down at it like he doesn’t remember putting it on. “Maybe?” He looks back up at me. “Focus, Mae.”
Blinking my eyes, I remember why we’re here. “Do you remember our conversation last night?”
“Yes?”
I exhale, relieved. “Okay,” I say, mentally working this out. “We’re doing this over again, but I’m the only one who realizes it. I haven’t been sent back, so I must be doing something right?”
“Is there another explanation?”
I chew on my lip. “That I’m crazy? That this is all random? That I’m actually in a coma in a hospital in Salt Lake?”
“I don’t like any of those options,” he admits.
“Uh, yeah,” I scoff, grinning wryly. “I’m not wild about them, either.”
“I’m here,” he reasons. “I mean—I’m real. I’m in this with you, and so it can’t just be happening to you, right?”
A thought occurs to me: “Quick. Tell me something I wouldn’t possibly know about you—other than your stash of mushrooms, too obvious. Just in case I reboot all over again.”
“You know about the mushrooms?”
“Benny.”
He frowns as he thinks. And then he leans in and whispers a rushed string of words.
When he pulls back, I stare at him. “Benny.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I know.”
I shudder. “I meant something like, ‘My first dog’s name was Lady.’ Not like, ‘I lived a strange double life as a nude waiter in Arizona.’ ”
He shrugs. “It’s the first thing that came to mind.”
Closing my eyes, I shake my head to clear the image.
“Do we tell the others?” Benny asks. “I mean, this whole situation is pretty wild. Maybe one of them has experienced this before and managed to get to the other side of it? Maybe you’re right, and this place really is magic.”
“I like your thinking, but I might have a better idea. I mean, Ricky and Lisa deciding to sell the cabin was the catalyst for my whole wish in the first place. Do you think it’s possible we’re supposed to convince them to keep it? Maybe if we all pitch in and show them what it means to us?”
He looks past me to where Ricky is cuddling his coffee. “Never hurts to try, I suppose.”
“Everyone is always complaining about all the traditions,” I whisper, “but Ricky really does so much for us. What if we’re all just very gung-ho about things? What if we offer to help with the upkeep? Repairs?”
“You think you can get everyone on board?” he asks.
I look out the window and grimace. Today’s tradition was once about building snowmen, but then younger Mae apparently asked why we couldn’t build snowgirls, and then tiny Miles came along and asked why he couldn’t build a snow monkey. Now, December 21 is Snow Creature Day, and that seems to work for everyone.
That is, unless it’s terrible outside. Ricky doesn’t adjust the itinerary for inclement weather, and we’ve all grown so competitive about this activity that we’re usually out there for a good two or three hours before we’ve picked a winner. A glance out the window reveals an intimidating gray-blue sky. Thick, daggerlike icicles hang menacingly from the eaves. There’s no way we’ll get a complaint-free group out there today.
I gulp as I look back at him. “I’ll try.”
Benny sucks in a breath between his teeth. “Man, changing the future, though. Like, have you ever heard of the butterfly effect? What if you change one tiny thing and something terrible happens?”
“Listen,” I say, “if the universe wants to drop a cursed ring in my lap that I’m supposed to throw into a lava-filled mountain, I’m all for it. But right now this is all I’ve got.”
• • •
I follow Benny into the kitchen just as the back door opens. Andrew steps inside and brings with him a sharp streak of ice-cold air, as well as a shot of adrenaline straight into my heart.
I shout out a bright “Hey!”
In my head, I’ve said it with easy composure, James Dean leaning against the doorframe. In reality, I’ve hollered it with odd aggression, and everyone else flinches.
Benny puts a calming hand on my back.
Andrew pulls out an earbud and grins at me, unfazed because he is a magical creature. “Hey yourself.”
He’s shivering, wearing a down jacket, scarf, gloves, and a blanket as a shawl. This human tangle of hot + adorable is usually hidden in the audio tech booth during shows at Red Rocks but should absolutely be onstage for everyone to enjoy.