Page 2 of Avalanche (Endless Winter #3)

I look at the phone in my hands. The clock on the screen stares back at me alongside mom’s unanswered texts.

It’ll be late there, past the twins’ bedtime.

Mom will be curled up reading a book in her favorite lounger.

Dad will be watching TV or still at work, pouring over some case file in his home office.

I could call her. Not to video chat with the twins. Not to ask her about her latest pickleball score or talk to Dad about his case.

I could talk. Not about them, but about me .

I could tell her about Lily and the guys. Tell her I think I might be falling in love. No, not think. I know it. Maybe I’m already in love. Have been for a while now. Tell her that I might not be coming home for summer this time. That I’m going to be selfish for once.

My pulse ratchets up at the thought. I swipe at my screen, bringing up our last conversation.

A row of unanswered texts from her, with occasional short replies from me, spanning the past couple weeks.

It’s probably the longest I’ve ever gone without calling home, I realize, and for some reason, there’s a burst of pride at the thought alongside the expected twinge of guilt.

My thumb presses dial. Mom answers on the first ring.

“Seth! You called!”

There’s a rustling sound and then, more muffled, “Pete—no, turn that off, it’s only the news. No one wants to watch that. It’s Seth. Your son, remember?”

Dad makes some response that I don’t catch. I can’t help but smile, a real smile that has my cheeks hurting.

Mom must take her hand off the receiver, because there’s another loud crackle and then, “How are you doing? You’ve been busy right? I think that’s what your last text said—something about it being the busy season right now? I hope you’re eating enough…”

“Hey Mom, Dad. Yeah, I’m good.”

I rub at my throat, my feet moving without any real thought, taking me from the kitchen to the hallway, then back to the living room again.

“Work has been insane,” I continue, the words a rambling rush.

Sound to fill the space while I work up the courage to tell her what I really want to say.

“No one’s had a day off since Christmas.

But it should calm down in a week or so, apparently.

Once all the kids go back to school. I’ve had it easier than the other guys—they’re all working until like seven each night. ”

“The other guys? Those are your roommates, right? I think you said you had five of them?”

“Yep. Five.” I clear my throat. “Four guys and one girl. Lily.”

I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to stop the squeezing feeling in my chest, the breathless constriction strangling my lungs. My hand trembles, fingers flexing around my phone.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to tell you.

My roommates. We’re… um… well…” I plaster on a smile, even though she can’t see it.

Like maybe if I smile it will be enough to chase away the pure terror that’s risen up at the thought of telling my parents about this.

Telling them about the girl I’ve fallen for and the guys who feel like family.

About this incredible, terrifying thing growing between the six of us. About our plans for the off-season.

“I met someone.”

“So, New Zealand.” Dad’s voice is full of careful cheerfulness, but I can hear papers rusting in the background—the familiar sound of him nervously flipping through a case file or some notebook.

“That sounds like an adventure.” He clears his throat, then adds with sheepishness that always precedes a dad joke: “If you need help filling out the paperwork for a work visa, I know a good lawyer.”

I snort out a laugh, shaking my head. “Seriously?” I plop down on the couch, my legs suddenly feeling weak. “I tell you I’m dating five people and your response is to offer to help me fill out paperwork?”

I smile into the empty silence of the living room, an almost frantic explosion of joy burning behind my ribs. My eyes sting and I swipe at them with the back of my hand, then pull my knees up to my chest.

“Well.” Another cleared throat. “I mean, you’re happy, right? And these people, they’re good people?”

I nod furiously in response then let out a croaked: “Yeah.”

“Well, that’s all that matters.”

I bite my lower lip, brow dipping at the sound of sniffles coming over the line.

“Are you… is Mom crying?”

Mom lets out a choked sound, some inarticulate response to my question. I scrub at my face, not sure whether to be worried or laugh.

“I’m just so happy,” she cries. There’s a loud rustling noise, then a muffled: “No, it’s my turn to have the phone, Pete.”

“It’s on speaker dear, you don’t need to hold it… Oh, fine.”

Mom gives another loud sniffle, then, voice noticeably louder: “After you broke up with Claudia I thought that was it. We’d never have grandkids.

She told us you were asexual. And you know, you’d just make such a good dad.

I mean, when you’re ready. We’re not rushing you. But you’ll be thirty soon…”

I stare in horrified silence at the wall of beer cans, my cheeks burning at my mom’s words.

“This Lily, does she want to have kids?” Mom asks.

Then, before I can even start to contemplate an answer: “I’ll be the best grandma.

I promise. I’ve started knitting—well, I knit a scarf the other day, but I’m going to try a sweater next.

Are you planning on bringing her to Canada for a visit?

You could come before you go to New Zealand, you know.

We’ll pay for it. For all of you guys. No, don’t give me that look, Pete, it’s just six plane tickets.

This is the future mother of our grandchildren. I’m meeting her.”

“Mom,” I groan, dropping my forehead to my knees.

“Penelope,” Dad chides.

“Mom,” I say again, mind racing as I think of what I can possibly say in response to Mom’s outburst. “I’m twenty-one. That’s not even close to thirty.”

“We had you when I was twenty-five,” Mom argues.

“Lily is twenty. And we’ve only just started dating. I haven’t even asked her about kids yet.”

“Well,” Mom sniffs haughtily, “you should probably ask her about it. And it’s never too early to start trying.”

“It’s definitely too early to start trying.

” I shake my head, horrified at just the thought of having this conversation with Lily.

Or worse, at Lily overhearing any of the craziness spewing out of my mom’s mouth.

“And you’re not meeting her. Not even on video chat.

Not unless you promise not to ask her about kids. ”

“But…”

“And that goes for the rest of the guys, Mom. I’m serious.”

There’s a long, reluctant silence on the other end. I can just imagine Mom’s petulant glare as Dad gives her one of his smug, knowing looks.

“Fine,” Mom sighs. “I won’t say anything about grandkids. Yet.”

There is a decidedly ominous tone to that last word ‘yet’.

“So.” Dad clears his throat. “I’ve been looking up this town in New Zealand you mentioned and it’s on Google Maps. Did you know it lets you zoom in and see pictures in 3D of different places? It’s like you’re walking around. So neat. Well, how do you say the name of the town—Wanaka? Is that right?”

“Um, yeah.” I let out a breath, relieved for the change of subject. “That’s it.”

“It looks like there’s a nice lake there. And some good cafes. This one has a lot of five-star reviews. Oh, and look honey—” I presume he’s talking to my mom, not to me “—there’s a cute little playground by the lakefront. It has a dinosaur slide. The kids would love that, don’t you think?”

I let my attention drift as Mom and Dad get distracted delving into the magical world of Google Maps, learning more about the place that I’ll be moving to than even I know.

A smile curves my lips, excitement curling low in my stomach as the sound of their voices quells all the uncertainties that have been whispering in my head.

This is real.

What I have with Lily and the guys, our plan to find a place together in New Zealand for the off-season, and a potential future together beyond that…

it’s all real. Mom and Dad don’t need me—they aren’t sitting at home wondering when I’m coming back to help them with the twins.

They’re planning a trip to come visit me and contemplating the possibility of grandchildren.

Kids. Shit.

I hadn’t even thought about kids. In my most distant-looking imaginings, I’d thought about getting a dog. But having kids?

I close my eyes and try to imagine what that would be like.

A small human, crying and gurgling and throwing its little arms around erratically.

Eddie’s look of wide-eyed terror as he pondered how to hold it or attempted to deal with a leaking diaper.

Liam waiting impatiently for it to grow big enough to put it on a snowboard.

Antoine teaching it insults in French. Matty wearing one of those baby carrier things and glaring at anyone who stepped too near him.

And Lily. Sweet, wonderful Lily.

I bet she’d be a good mom.

“Seth, honey? Did you hear what I said?”

I blink and the image fades, leaving with it a lingering sense of longing and confusion.

“What?” I ask stupidly.

Mom laughs, a light, carefree sound that has my chest aching. There had been so many years when that sound had only been a memory. It’s hard to believe she’s better now. That things are better now. That she really doesn’t need me anymore.

“I’m really happy for you.” I can hear the smile in her words, can practically taste her tears from across the line, can feel the warmth of her from a thousand miles away. “That’s all. We both are.” Another sniffle. “Really happy for you. You deserve this.”