I really, really don’t want to.
“Garrett,” I whisper.
He leans in, curving into the embrace. But just as I think he’s going to drop his mouth down onto mine, as I’m pressing up onto my toes inside my winter boots, there’s laughter very close by.
“Oh, sorry,” someone says, laughing as they bump into Garrett, a small crowd spilling around the corner of the house, intruding on our stolen private moment.
He turns us so I’m protected from the press of people, but he lets go of me at the same time.
By the time we make our way around them and wave goodbye to Jake and Dani in the garage-turned-Santa’s workshop, Garrett’s not looking at me and the almost kiss feels almost-imagined.
Chapter 10
Garrett
By the time we get back to the farm, the tree lot lights are off.
Rory leaps from the truck as soon as I come to a stop. I let her race ahead down the path.
After closing the gate, I put the keys to the truck in the sales hut, then instead of following her to the house, I shove my hands into my pockets and walk deeper into the tree lot, toward the skating trail.
There’s a big moon tonight, so even though the lights are off, that’s enough for me to help myself to a pair of rental skates in my size.
I hang up my coat on a hook and lace them on nice and tight.
I’m furious with myself for getting caught up in all of that with Rory. I want to be furious with her for starting the teasing in the truck, but I liked it too much. And it’s not as if it’s a secret that we still have wild chemistry.
Of course we do. We learned about sex together. There’s nothing we can’t say to each other—about sex.
But the embrace in the shadows of her cousin’s house wasn’t about sex.
That was all about the clawing need inside me to hold on to a woman I’ve already lost. Regret and what-ifs won’t change that fact.
I used the excuse of her hair being covered in pine needles from the tree she carried to grab her as she raced away from me, the way she always races away when the topic of kids and marriage comes up. Not because I have any right to demand that she stop and tell me when she gave up that dream—it doesn’t matter now—but because I wish I’d pinned her down on it years ago.
I wish we’d been able to talk aboutthata lot more. With the deep, raw, intimate honesty we can talk about edging.
Fuck my life.
I pump my legs, taking the first curve into the forest with some speed. The skates bite on the freshly sprayed ice. I built Dante a mini homemade Zamboni a few years ago, the second year they had this skating trail, and it makes easy work of the nightly maintenance.
Has Rory noticed that I’m not behind her? Has her family asked her why she’s returned alone? What has she told them?
What would she have told them if that shitbox hatchback had worked long enough to get her here?
Was I that easily erased from her life?
This is the only immediate family I have now. My mom left when I was a baby. My dad did his best, with a lot of community help, but by the time I was in school, I was pretty much on my own. His death two years ago only made official an orphan status I think I’ve always felt in my bones. There was never a lunch that I didn’t pack myself—until theend of high school, when I started crashing on Rory’s couch some nights, just to not be alone.
Carmen always packed me a lunch in the morning.
All of that history just wiped away because I wanted too much from Rory.
Fucking hell.
The next curve in the trail leads into a fun little chunk of twists and turns. A clever way to create more skating distance in a limited footprint. I take it as fast as safely possible, then hit the last straightaway with a good amount of speed.
The last person I’m expecting to see when I hit the open part of the trail near the skate shack is Rory.
