Page 26

“Tenleigh,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry he did that to you all.”

I looked off behind Kyland, picturing the way the sky was a deep, twilight blue, picturing the look of devastation on my mama’s face, picturing the dust our shoes kicked up as we walked silently home, looking down the whole way. But I acknowledged his understanding words with a nod and a sigh. “It’s just the way it is, I guess.”

“No wonder you swore off men,” he said, tilting his head and giving me a teasing smile.

I smiled back. It was just what I’d needed to drag me out of those awful memories. “That’s why it’s a good thing we’re just friends.”

He chuckled. After a second he asked, “Do you feel weird about applying for the scholarship with Edward Kearney being the administrator and all?”

“Not really. Tyton Coal awards it. He’s just the face for it. And if it helps me get out of here, I’m willing to set aside any pride I might have about that.”

He nodded, looking thoughtful, his eyes focused downward.

After a few beats, he brought his eyes to mine. God, he was so handsome. Our gazes met and held. I blinked, warmth unfurling in my belly. “Do you want some hot chocolate?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

I got up, the blanket still around me, and went to the small kitchen at the front of the trailer. Kyland followed me, his blanket around him as well. As I went about boiling water, Kyland watched me, leaning his hip against the small doorway. I looked away, concentrating on my task. His masculinity suddenly seemed to fill the trailer. Maybe it was because I wasn’t used to having a male share my space, or maybe it was just because I was hyperaware of him in general. And I hated that. I hated it because we were friends. I’d declared it myself. After he’d told me he’d never kiss me again, true. But if we weren’t going to kiss, then it was either friends or nothing. And I found… well, I didn’t want nothing.

I poured the hot water into the two mugs I’d already dumped the hot chocolate mix into, turned off the hotplate, and then handed one of the mugs to Kyland. Our hands brushed when he took the handle from me and our eyes both darted upward. “Sorry,” I whispered.

“For what?”

“Um…” For not being able to stop wanting you to kiss me until I’m breathless. For not being able to stop thinking about the way you tasted. For wondering if I’ll ever feel the same thrill again that I felt when your lips first touched mine. For lying and pretending I’m happy just being your friend. “For making it so hot.” My eyes moved down to the mug in his hand.

“Hot is good. It’ll warm us up.”

I scooted past him. I needed some space. What I really needed was a blast of frigid winter air in my face, but I wasn’t willing to freeze myself again now that I was finally getting warm.

What do friends do?

“So…do you want to play Scrabble or something? I have a few old board games. They were my dad’s.”

“Sure. What do you have?”

“Uh, let me look.” I went over to a small closet and peered inside at the top shelf. It’d been forever since Marlo and I had played a board game. Suddenly, it sounded like a really fun idea. “Scrabble…Uno…Monopoly…”

“Monopoly!” Kyland said enthusiastically. I laughed and reached for the game.

I sat on the couch and Kyland sat down next to me as I pulled the coffee table closer to us and started setting it up.

“What’s this?” he asked, unfolding the small piece of paper that had fallen from the box that I could see had Marlo’s handwriting on it. “Don’t ever play this game with Ten—”

I grabbed the note from him, crumpled it up, and threw it across the room. “That’s nothing,” I said. Really, Marlo? Leaving instructions for my future monopoly opponents? I loved my sister, but the girl had no competitive spirit.

I placed the money tray in front of me so I could be the banker and handing him the real estate cards.

“I’d rather be the banker,” he said.

I frowned. I was always the banker. But he was my guest after all. I handed him the tray of money.

“And I’m always the shoe,” he continued.

Well, that is unacceptable. “I’m always the shoe,” I informed him.

“Oh, no, uh-uh. I’m always the shoe.”

“Why would you want to be the old, grungy-looking shoe anyhow? Don’t you want to be the luxury car?” I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to fake him out as I held the car up and swept my hand toward it in a lofty presentation.

“No. The shoe represents hard work. And hard work leads to riches. I’m always the shoe.”

I raised my eyebrows.