Page 104 of Falling Like Snow

“All right,” his mom replies. “We’ll probably still be in here eating our weight in cookies.”

My mom’s laugh floats from the kitchen as I carefully grab my wrapped cake box and our coats, and we head outside into the softly falling snow.

“The taxi sign is back?” I ask, grinning at the folded pizza box on top of his car.

“Walking to this particular New York landmark wouldn’t exactly be quick, and we don’t have a subway. So a taxi is the only way to get there.” He opens the back door for me.

“Can I sit in front?” I ask, sticking out my bottom lip.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “If I get my taxi driver’s license revoked because of you…”

I laugh as he closes the back door and lets me in the front passenger seat instead. “Are taxi driver’s licenses a thing?”

“I have no idea.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Um, what are we doing here?” I ask when Asher parks the car in front of the Bramble Falls water tower seven minutes later.

He climbs out of the car and retrieves a small duffel bag from the trunk.

“We’ll do presents here,” he says.

I glance around the snowy field behind me. “O-kay…”

“No objections? No questions? Just ‘okay’?” he asks, a snowflake falling on his arched brow.

“I guess I’m learning to just trust you.”

“About time.”

I roll my eyes and get my box from the back seat. Asher turns, slinging the bag’s shoulder strap across his body, and marches through the snow over to the base of the water tower. He stops at the ladder.

“Wait. What are you doing?” I ask.

“We’re going up,” he says, nodding at the small platform attached to the cylindrical top of the tower.

“Uh, no?”

“What? Why not?” he asks.

“I’m carrying a box, which means I have one hand, and climbing metal in wet boots doesn’t seem like a smart idea.”

He sighs. “I knew you weren’t going to make this easy.”

“This thing is like a hundred feet high!” I point out.

“A hundred and thirty, actually.” He swings his bag around to his front and unzips it. “Put your box in here so you have two hands. We aren’t going to fall. We’re going to go carefully. You can go in front of me if it makes you feel better. Then I can catch you if you fall.”

I gently place the box into his duffel. “It’s… fragile, so be careful.”

“Got it,” he says, zipping the bag.

I grip the sides of the janky ladder. “Don’t let me die.”

He nods and positions his bag behind him. “If you die, I die, too.”

“Deal.”