I watch him, the quiet awe in his voice making my eyes water.
“That was the moment,” he whispers. “The moment I knew.”
“That you loved being on ice?” I ask softly.
“Yeah. My entire life and future changed that day.”
I don’t say anything, letting his words settle between us.
“Tell me about your favorite memory growing up,” he asks after a while.
“Probably my summer holidays in Spain.”
“With your mother’s side of the family?”
“Yeah.” I smile at the memories that flood my mind. Hot, endless days in the sun, the scent of citrus in the garden, saltwater in my hair, my abuela’s voice calling me and my cousins in for dinner every evening.
“I’d spend a month with them every summer. My abuela often took me to the market in the mornings, letting me use my Spanish with the locals, discussing ordinary things such as the weather and dinner plans. I played soccer with the neighborhood kids until I was all sweaty and gross before taking a dip in the water. Their summer house is right by the Mediterranean Sea, so it was easy. I remember thinking those days felt endless and how summer would last forever…” I trail off, getting emotional all of a sudden.
Rasmus notices and sets his free hand on mine. “Sounds nice,” he says reassuringly.
“It really was.”
We fall into silence. We’re lost in our pasts, which are made up of these tiny fragments in time. We come from such differentworlds and childhoods, but somehow, sitting in this car with him, trading memories in the middle of the state of New York, it doesn’t feel so impossible to see us finding the middle ground.
20
YOU’RE SO OUT OF HIS LEAGUE
RASMUS
We pull up to the cabin after five, the sky shifting from pale gray to deep indigo. Haisley stretches the moment I park, having napped some of the drive.
“I expected something smaller when you said a cabin. But it’s more like a second home,” she says dreamily, admiring the place. “I can’t wait to see the inside.”
I chuckle, climbing out and grabbing our bags from the back. “It’s nothing fancy, but it does the job.”
The air bites at us as we make our way up the steps, our boots crunching against the frosted wood. I unlock the door and push it open, flipping on the light as she slips past me, curiosity pulling her deeper inside.
Her eyes roam the place—the old timber beams, the stone fireplace, the kitchen tucked into the open living space—and her expression softens. “This is so cozy. I love it.”
“I’m glad. You’re one of the few people to see it.”
“Really? I’m honored,” her voice quiets as she takes in the space again. “There’s something calming about it.”
I set her bag down near the door, noticing the way her fingers graze the back of the couch as she walks past. “Yeah, it’s always been my escape. My life can be overwhelming. But here, it’s different.”
“I can tell. This place has a soul to it, you know?”
The comment makes me smile, because she’s right. “Definitely. Let me show you the bedrooms upstairs. We both have our own.”
She meets my eyes for a beat before looking away, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Lead the way.”
I gesture toward the stairs, feeling a little nervous under her gaze. It’s strange, showing someone else the space that has only ever been mine. But something about the way she looks at this place, how she appreciates the little details, makes it feel right.
We settle in after the tour. I throw a couple of logs into the woodstove and get the fire going on the fireplace as well while she unpacks the snacks and drinks from the car. The place warms up, filling with the scent of burning pine.
After the dinner I cooked for us, Haisley sinks into the couch with a soft sigh, curling her legs under a blanket. Her head rests against the back, her golden hair spilling over the cushions. The exhaustion is unmistakable, worrying me a bit.
