Raylene usually woke before Jedson.
It didn't matter that her work hours were flexible and his weren't; she simply rose with the morning light the way flowers reached for sun. But today, when the warm glow of sunrise slid across the cottage bedroom and touched the blankets, she didn't stir.
Jedson did.
He blinked awake to the soft hush of the snowy hill outside, the faint creaking of the wooden cottage settling, and the warm weight of Raylene curled against his chest, breathing deeply.
She never slept this long.
He brushed a thumb across her cheek, gently moving a few strands of hair away from her face.Of course she was tired.Yesterday had been a lot — hours of traveling, the excitement of the resort, a new place full of new impressions. She absorbed the world more intensely than most. It was one of the things he loved about her… and one of the things he watched over.
So he simply held her.
Letting her rest.Letting her recover.Letting her exist in perfect peace tucked into his arms.
Finally, she stirred. A tiny sound escaped her, more sigh than word, and her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then softening at the sight of him.
"Good morning," he whispered, brushing her hair back again.
She smiled sleepily and leaned up to kiss him — a slow, warm morning kiss that tasted like comfort and beginnings.
After a few more minutes of soft cuddles and gentle teasing about who was the real sleepyhead, they rolled out of bed and made breakfast. The cottage kitchen was small but cozy, sunlight spilling over the counter, catching on the steam rising from their mugs.
They'd brought their own groceries knowing resort food was expensive, and because neither of them could start a winter morning without hot chocolate. It was their ritual. Their survival mechanism.
Once fed, warmed, and layered up in winter gear, they headed out.
---
The equipment rental building buzzed with early skiers — scraping boots, clattering skis, the polite chaos of people preparing for the slopes. After getting fitted and geared, Raylene gave Jedson a once-over and grinned.
"Still time to sign up for skiing school, you know."
He scoffed. "Raylene. Skiing school is for kids."
"There's adult skiing school too," she insisted.
"Even worse."
She rolled her eyes so dramatically he laughed.
---
They walked together to the beginner hill, their breaths puffing like little clouds in the cold. And then… the moment of truth.
"Alright," she said, tightening her gloves, "just follow my lead. And remember—"
But Jedson pushed off before she could finish.
"Jed—?!"
He was gone.
Straight down the hill.
Bombing it.Straight-lining like a man with zero self-preservation.
People jumped out of his way, startled. A kid dove sideways. Someone yelled. Jedson, meanwhile, was doing his best impression of "I totally have control," while internally screaming:
I do not have control.
By some miracle — and possibly divine intervention — he managed to stop at the bottom without wiping out.
Raylene arrived much later, staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and laughter.
"Okay," she said, trying not to grin, "good news is… you survived."
He exhaled, out of breath. "Told you. Natural talent."
"Jedson," she said gently, "that was the easiest green hill. If you did that on a blue or a red… we'd have had to call an ambulance."
He winced. "…Fair point."
They got in line for the lift, Raylene shaking her head fondly.
"Alright. New rule," she said, poking his arm. "You ski behind me and follow my turns. No more straight-lining your way into an early grave."
"That's dramatic," he muttered.
She smirked. "You're dramatic."
"Mmm… maybe."
The lift carried them up together, legs dangling, the world sliding slowly beneath them — soft white hills, glittering snow, the cottage roofs like little dollhouses. When they reached the top, Raylene positioned herself in front of him.
"Just copy me," she instructed. "Turn when I turn."
He nodded, determined.
She glided forward first, making a gentle curve to the left.
Jedson followed — slow, careful, leaning awkwardly but staying upright.
She turned right.He mirrored her.And for the first time, it clicked.
By the time they reached the bottom, Raylene applauded him.
"See?" she said. "You're getting it!"
He stood taller, pride warming him more than any jacket. "I am getting it."
They repeated the run several times. Each time he grew steadier, more confident… more like the version of himself she always relied on.
Eventually, they took on a blue hill — a little steeper, a little longer. Jedson struggled, legs burning, balance wobbling, but Raylene was always there. Slowing down with him. Encouraging him. Laughing when he cursed under his breath.
They made it down together.
Not fast.Not gracefully.But together.
And Jedson realized he wasn't just learning how to ski —he was learning how to move with her, how to match her pace, how to meet every challenge side by side.
Tomorrow, he'd be even better.
Today?Today was their first step down the hill.And it was enough.