Page 135 of Gunnar

He pulls me in and kisses me, hard enough to make me laugh against his mouth. I only found out yesterday, and I’m not yet tired of being congratulated.

“Did you happen to come top of the class too?”

“I sure did.”

His gaze lingers on me, proud and a little amused.

He drove me to the exam himself and booked us into a hotel the night before so I’d actually sleep.

“That was enough to convince him to come?”

“Well, he did say can’t we just have a beer at home? I told him I’d buy him one in town when we’re done.”

He snorts. “That’s the Orson I know.”

At last, Torin appears in the doorway.

“Come on,” he says over his shoulder. “It’s a store, not a firing squad.”

No answer.

Torin steps back inside. “You’ve been in worse places than a lighting aisle. Get a grip.”

There’s a low, unimpressed sound from somewhere deeper in the lodge.

Torin reappears, backing out this time, one hand braced on the doorframe, the other gesturing like he’s physically pulling someone along.

“Fifteen minutes,” he adds. “We’re in, we’re out. You can glare at everyone on the way through. You’ll love it.”

A shape moves behind him.

Torin grins. “And here he is.”

Orson steps out, shoulders set, scowling at the truck like it’s personally offended him.

“This is a waste of time,” he says. “Why do we need more stuff?”

I plant my hands on my hips. “Because I want it.”

He looks at me, unmoved.

“And because you’re getting a beer after.”

He works his jaw. “Two.”

“Two,” I agree.

He considers that, then jerks his chin toward the truck.

“Fine.”

We pull away from the lodge, the track opening out ahead of us, green now where it used to be white.

I rest my elbow on the window and watch the mountain roll past.

“So beautiful,” I murmur.

I’ve loved winter at the lodge, all cozy indoors with the blizzards blowing outside, but spring feels different. Lighter. Full of possibility.