Without stopping to think about what I was doing, I fished my boots out of the closet and grabbed my coat. I jumped up and down on the steps, slamming my foot into one warm boot before hopping on the other foot to do the same. My gloves were still in my pockets. I tugged them on using my teeth. I ducked into the garage to get the shovel. Halfway around the block, I repeated the story I’d come up with along the way.

Why was I doing this? Was it better or worse than sitting in my room alone like a stalker watching her run around and play in the backyard? Snow usually meant icicle-cold practices with water-soaked pads, or being blinded on the field during a game, dreading going inside to the warmth—the only thing worse than losing the feeling in your fingers and toes was when it came back.

But there was no practice today. No game. Only Bay laughing and running around, panting and smiling and playing.

I slipped and slid on the sidewalks, rushing to make it around the block. No one was out yet to shovel or salt.

Their peals of laughter got louder the closer I got to the house. They hadn’t gone inside yet. I slowed my steps. I hadn’t missed them.

Molly’s car was parked on the street. The snow had built up on the slope of the driveway, so high she couldn’t park it.

I dropped my shovel to the ground, scraping to the concrete and flinging it aside. The two of them rushed around from the back of the house, rosy cheeked and panting.

They spotted me with the shovel and stopped.

“Dare, so nice to see you.” Molly pulled off her gloves and shoved them into her pockets.

“Hey, Dare.” The no-longer-wary way Bay said my name sent a tingle up my spine. She said it like we were friends, not newly-acquainted, barely-civil neighbors.

“I have a shovel.” I cringed and braced my hands around the shovel handle to keep from a full-on face palm. “I can shovel your driveway.” I gestured to the pile up of snow and the progress I’d made.

“That’s so sweet. Let me just get my bag from the car.”

“Let me get it.” I waved her off and traversed the slushy and icy path. My feet slid from under me and I slammed into the side of the car, bracing myself on the roof.

“Dare,” Bay called out, concern radiating from the single syllable.

I grinned, my face pressed against the cold metal. Bracing my hands on the roof of the car, I opened the door and fished out Molly’s bag.

Navigating the treacherous path up to the house, Bay stared at me with wide eyes like I was crossing a river of lava. Pride swelled in my chest and I stopped myself from spiking the bag when I made it to the steps where they were standing.

“Do you have any salt?”