Page 98 of The Promise Of You

“Oh dear.” Chloe laughs.

“Yup.” With Daisy out of the way, I pick up speed. “Matter of fact, I think that’s how she got her name.”

“That’s too funny,” Chloe says again, then starts playing with the radio stations until she stops on country rock. “This okay?” she asks.

“Sure.” I like that she asks me. I also like that she’s not a music snob. People who are partial to this or that type of music get on my nerves. Music is music. A good rhythm, a melody you can hum to yourself, lyrics you can relate to. That’s all I ask for. Making my point, Chloe hums softly along with the chorus, then she rolls her window down and her soft hum turns into more of a full-on bellow.

Totally off key. Totally adorable. I can’t help the smile spreading across my face.

Somehow she catches me. “What?” she snaps.

“Nothing,” I say. “It was a good day.” I glance at her.

“Hard not to have a good day in Emerald Creek,” she answers, filling my heart with pride and warmth.

“You’re right about that.”

She turns her head to the window, butchering the music in the most endearing way. I wish the song would never end.

But it does, and then she lowers the volume and asks, “What was it like, growing up here?”

“It was…” Where do I even start? “We spent most of our time outdoors, helping on the farm or building tree houses or swimming in the river or the lake.”

“Wow. I can’t imagine. What about winters?”

“Sugaring.”

“What’s that?”

“Making maple syrup. That only lasts a few weeks. And we’d take care of the animals—mainly cleaning stables. We didn’t have many when I was a kid. A couple dozen cows, chickens, a couple of horses. When those chores were done, we’d go sledding. Snowshoeing. Late fall and winter, hunting.”

“Did you go skiing?”

“Not so much.” More like, not at all. “It gets expensive, with five kids. Although, the school started a program when I was ten or twelve. Mostly, we’d skate on the lake.”

“You—what?”

“Lake gets frozen solid in the winter. We’d clear the snow and skate.” It was the best. Mom would freak out that we would go too early, before it was solid enough, or too late, when it’d started thawing, but we were smart. We’d heard the horror stories. That’s how Ethan got picked up for hockey, actually. A rich tourist was staying at the resort, and he saw him skate. At the same time, the town got some trickle of federal money, and with it, they built the arena. They put together a team, and Ethan became the golden boy. Emerald Creek won game after game. We won the national championship. Ethan won the national championship.

“Hey, where’d your mind go?” Chloe interrupts my thoughts.

“Skating,” I semi-lie.

“That good, huh?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” The times Ethan wasn’t there to cast his shadow over me. I shake the feeling away, guilty about it. I’m always guilty when it comes to Ethan.

“I haven’t gone skating in I don’t know how long.” I catch her pensive gaze on me from the corner of my eye. “Never on a frozen lake,” she adds.

Man, I’d love to take her skating. “Something to look forward to,” I venture. What am I doing? I need to stop thinking about her that way. I will not take her skating. Skating with a girl is a… it’s a first date thing. And then it’s a repeat date, or maybe a nice proposal idea. Shit. She’s a friend, Justin, think about her as a friend.

She gives me a big smile and it’s hard to get my focus back on the road entirely, so I slow down a little. “How’s it going at the restaurant?” I say to bring the conversation back on safe territory.

She shakes her head. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“About what my mom said the other day…” Fuck, where do I even start?

“It’s okay,” she interrupts me softly. “Parents don’t always know what they’re talking about.” She tucks her hands between her knees.

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