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The truck's door dislodges a few brave snow flakes still clinging from the last storm as Jack pushes it open. He unscrews his gas cap and inserts the nozzle. Shifting from foot to foot to shake of the cold, Jack reaches up and adjusts his customary cowboy hat, half-heartedly wishing he'd worn something warmer.

The gas station radio is playing some vaguely country song about cowboys and freedom and never giving up. Jack sighs, his breath swirling out as mist before him, and wonders how he ended up in Oneonta, preparing to drive to home via Boston, to spend Christmas with some family he's never met. He shakes his head, whether to dispel his dissatisfaction or to show his self-disgust he isn't sure. Jack pays for the gas and returns to the warmth of his pick up.

After a short drive, Jack pulls up in front his apartment, where his fiance is waiting with their suitcases. He helps her maneuver them into the back of the truck and to tie them down. He keeps noticing the flash of her ring, and he dreads the sight of it. That simple circle usually makes him happy but tonight it looks like one more link in the chain holding him to her beloved mountains and snow and small towns.

"Let's hit the road," he says hoping she doesn't notice his discontent. "It's a long drive to Boston and a longer drive home."

"Oh sweetie," she chirps, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, "I'm so excited for you to meet David; you're going to love him."

Jack wonders bitterly when he became the kind of person who loves Harvard prepsters; her brother's probably some kind of walking mouth, babbling about things no sane person can understand or would care about anyway.

He remembers Spot and Race's fights about Brooklyn versus Manhattan but he can't quite recall why he decided on SUNY Oneonta of all places to start his adult life. All he knows is that he met a perky wannabe school teacher when he arrived. The next thing he knows he's proposing to her and sending a text to his best friend in the world to say he won't be spending Christmas with him, even though Race is the closest thing to family Jack has.

As they merge onto the highway, Jack turns on the radio, hoping to drown out his doubts.


A few hours later the dusk has faded; the full moon reflects off the fresh snow, turning the lands scape a deep glittering blue.

Curled up in the passenger seat using one of Jack's sweatshirts as a blanket, his girlfriend is sleeping. She's bathed in the moonlight and Jack is slightly in awe of how serene she seems. He turns the radio off, not wanting to wake her. The resulting quiet is peaceful, the rumbling engine and smooth motion of the truck soothing the knots of tension in Jack's neck.

His phone beeps unexpectedly, breaking the calm. Jack grabs for it, annoyed at the disturbance. The screen informs him he missed a call, probably while in one of the long stretches in the Catskills or the Berkshires where he doesn't have cell service.

Jack dials his voice mail apprehensively, afraid the call might be Race expressing his betrayal or someone Jack owes money or, god forbid, his grandmother with her annual holiday drunk dial.

The message is in fact from Race, but his voice sounds cheerful.

"Hey there, Jacky boy," he drawls, "have fun with the in-laws. Why Jews need to see you on Christmas is beyond me but who am I to stop you when you're so young and in love." Jack hears Spot snort in the back ground and there's a pause where Jack assumes Race kicks him before he continues, saying "anyways feel free to swing by our place if you have a minute. Or if you get sick of the in-laws. Love you, you bastard."

Jack grins.

The girl beside him shifts, stirred half awake by the noise.

"Love you, Cowboy" she mutters before settling back into sleep.

"I love you too, Sarah" Jack murmurs.

He wonders what he was afraid of. Sarah loves the kid he was and the man he's becoming; his friends will too.

Besides there are so many better things for Jack to worry about, like whose family they'll visit next Christmas, which flowers they'll have at the wedding, whether Jack will make a good father, how often will the kids visit after they leave for college, whether Sarah will want to retire with him to Santa Fe.

In that moment Jack knows with absolute certainty that he and Sarah have only just begun.