Cooper looked down so his hair covered his face, telling Peter he didn’t much like the sound of that idea. But before they’d come to this town, during that month on the saddle, Peter realized that they’d become so much more than boyfriends. They’d become a team. And in this exact moment, Peter felt that return. They were partners, not only in daily life, but in adventures.

Cooper stepped forward. “Don’t—”

“I won’t take any risks,” said Peter.

“I mean it, Pete.”

“And I mean it too.”

Cooper looked up, holding Peter’s gaze, and Peter smiled back. “I love you too.”

And soon the forest rushed in, followed by the road leading back into town, and the golden lights of the Wranglestone Roxy rippled, calling Peter from inside the veiling snow. He pushed the double doors aside, shaking the snow from his hood and entered the foyer.

Inside was quiet. The lights to the popcorn kiosk were out. Across the way, both lamps either side of the auditorium doors still glowed from inside their scallop shells, illuminating the green walls. And the movie was playing. Silver light from the projector shivered beneath the door. Inside, a man in the movie was shouting. Hello, Bedford Falls, he cried. Then, Merry Christmas, movie house! Merry Christmas something. Peter couldn’t make out the rest. But he sounded happy. So very happy. Peter crossed the foyer, looking back towards the kitchenette. The kettle was silent and devoid of steam, but one of the mugs lay broken in pieces across the floor. Spilt coffee splattered the walls.

“Marge?” he whispered. “Marge?”

But he didn’t dare say it any louder. He stared at the broken mug. What if he had already come too late? Peter’s heart pounded. He called her name one more time and a shadow passed beneath the office door. He took a few steps backwards, feeling round for the relative safety of a solid wall behind him, and the shadow stepped back into place, striking out tall across the foyer carpet.

The shadow held. It waited. Marge’s name broke across Peter’s lips one more time, but he barely managed a whisper. He walked forward, crossing the length of the foyer up to the office. He quietly took hold of the handle. The other hand reached for his knife. Behind him, music was playing now. A Christmas carol, perhaps. But it wasn’t one Peter knew. The music stopped and the projector lights went out. Peter turned round and quietly opened the door.

31