Marcus jutted his chin toward a young couple—one who looked fresh out of high school. “What’s their story?”
She tilted her head and smiled. “High school sweethearts. He fell in love with her when they were in kindergarten.” This was their game. One of them started the story and the other added to it.
Marcus skated beside her, his movements slow and deliberate. “She was quiet. Shy. And everyone thought she was weird because she would rather read books about bugs than play with dolls.”
Wynter snapped her head around to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He wore a thoughtful expression and simply continued.
“But he liked that she was different. She made him feel special because she saw the world in technicolor instead of black and white.”
“Marcus,” she whispered.
He glanced at her, and the lopsided grin was nearly enough to bring her to her knees. Then he cleared his throat and grew serious. At some point he grasped her hand and tugged her tothe side of the rink before forcing her to face him. “Why did you say we were friends?”
She blinked, confused. “What?”
“When we got here and my nephew asked you if you were my girlfriend. You looked…” His brows creased. “You looked like a deer in headlights and blurted that we were friends.”
“Because we are,” she stammered. The question shouldn’t have thrown her off her game like it had. The only reasonable explanation for her overreaction was the way Rose had treated her the night of karaoke. And the way Marcus had gone along with it. “Marcus, we can’t be more than friends.”
His frown remained.
Wynter glanced around, feeling her anxiety begin to return. Marcus had a way of making her feel cornered, even though she had infinite directions she could escape. He wasn’t even holding onto her anymore. He was just… staring. She swallowed hard. “That’s all I can offer you, Marcus.”
“But we could be more,” he whispered.
She shook her head, folding her arms as she did so. “No. You’re wrong.”
“You can’t tell me that you haven’t felt this… connection.”
“Offriendship,” she insisted. “We’ve always been good together. There’s no denying that.”
This time he did reach for her hand, but she scooted back. Pain flickered in his eyes, and she looked away. His voice was low, pleading almost. “Wynter…”
“I’m leaving, Marcus, as soon as Grams is better and my contract is up. Or have you forgotten that?” The words rasped from her throat, and she fought the tears that threatened. Why was she so emotional? This wasn’t like her. This overwhelming feeling of wishing for more wasn’t okay.
“That’s hardly an excuse. You don’t have to leave,” he urged. “Circumstances can change.”
“Not this time.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. “Just believe me when I tell you that we’re too different. There’s so much about us that wouldn’t work.” It was the closest she’d ever get to telling him that she’d consider a relationship with him. That she’d want something more than friendship. But that was as far as she’d allow herself to go.
The truth of the matter was that she knew she wouldn’t survive the fallout if they did try something and it failed. Even before she’d met Marcus, she’d known she wasn’t cut out for marriage. She didn’t want it. But Marcus, sweet, untainted-by-hardship Marcus, did. He wanted a family. He wanted kids. He wanted stability because he believed it was possible.
And maybe it was.
For him.
Wynter was the product of dysfunction. And what did dysfunction breed? Even more of it.
She pleaded with him silently. Her eyes beseeching him to understand that she’d lost their friendship once already. It had broken her, and yes, it had been her fault. But it had only taken a week for her to fall back into the friendship she’d been so dependent on during her years in Copper Creek. She loved this camaraderie that they shared.
If a kiss had been enough to make her retreat and break the strongest friendship she’d had, then attempting something more with him could destroyeverything. Her whole life.
Six years ago, she’d kissed her best friend. She’d been a coward, and she’d run.
And Marcus hadn’t fought for her beyond calls and text messages. He hadn’t tracked her down and knocked on her door to demand an explanation. And when her grandfather had died, he hadn’t insisted on anything more than their strained friendship.
Wynter didn’t blame him. It had been a tough situation. But it had proven to her that while he cared for her, their friendship wasn’t deep enough to risk it all.
She smiled, but inside, she felt sick to her stomach. “Please, Marcus… Drop it.”
