Page 102 of Home Ice

I stand frozen as Chloe gives a quick nudge to Silver and they walk toward the door. Her face is down, and she doesn't look back at either of us as she goes outside.

"We're not breaking up." Lily whispers under her breath. "We're not. You just need space. I can't do this to you. You need space to think. You need space."

"The only thing I need is my family, and that's you and that girl and her dog." I hurry to the kitchen counter and grab my keys. "You might need to think, but I don't. What I need is to catch up with her and try to undo even a hundredth of what you just did."

CHAPTER 62

THE PERFECT IDEAL OF DUMBASSERY

LILY

"What the hell were you thinking?"

My head jerks up when I hear Em's voice. She's still halfway across the cavernous room. There are probably a hundred people circled around the baggage claim, waiting for their suitcases. They all turn to look at her and then, as one, they turn to me, somehow knowing that I'm the fool who deserves to be rebuked in public by her best friend.

I press up from the seat where I've spent an hour staring at the mountains through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sky is deceptively clear behind their peaks and just starting to turn from blue to gold as the sun drops. When I finally get to Em, I hug her. "God, I've missed you so much."

"We literally talk all the time. You just talked me through the tunnel of lost hope between the two concourses. Seriously, who makes people walk through a twelve-mile windowless tunnel after they just got off a flight? This airport was designed by Satan's cousin."

I chuckle for the first time in days, and it feels good. "They're only cousins by marriage. Besides, that tunnel is just temporary. They say. And I miss seeing you. Is that better?"

"We FaceTimed when I was in the back of the ride share this morning. And last night while I was packing. And the night before that when you told me how much of a dumbass you are, and by the way, you're a colossal dumbass in case you didn't realize it. Other dumbasses will build monuments to you and worship you as the perfect ideal of dumbassery. One they can only strive for but never achieve. "

As much as I don't want to, I finally let go of her. If I don't, we're never going to get out of here. "Thanks. I forgot in the three hours since you last told me that."

She releases a long, loud sigh. "Ah, three hours ago, I was halfway through the airport tunnel and thought I still had a long life ahead of me. Now look at me Lily. I'm weary. I'm wrinkled. I've been made an old woman by my travels through the hall of aging."

"And you say I'm dramatic."

"No, I say you're a d?—"

"I know." I slap my hand over her mouth. "I know. And I agree, but did you really just fly all this way to yell at me?"

I give her my best puppy dog eyes, but she brushes them away like nothing. Since she spends her days surrounded by actual puppies, these probably aren't even worth a shard of pity. "I hereby promise," she raises her right hand and stares straight ahead like she's being sworn in by the President, "that I will continue to berate my best friend, who I love more than almost anyone in this world, until she realizes that she has made a ridiculous mistake and finally comes to her senses."

"Whatever." I roll my eyes and grab her hand. "Come on. I'm just on the other side of the sky bridge. It's only another ten miles. Eleven at most." She groans as I yank her behind me.

The drive from the airport to my dad's house takes only fifteen minutes once we make it out of the parking garage, and Em uses the time to fill me in on everything I've been missing in Denver. It's a lot. It seems like that city will never stop growing and changing. It was exactly what I wanted ten years ago when I moved there. The more she tells me, though, the more I realize that I never felt as much at home there as I have over the last few months.

Em makes a show of collapsing onto the couch as soon as we walk inside the house. She peels off her boot and points at her sock-covered toes. "Look! A blister from that tunnel of torment. The things I go through for you."

"Oh my god, will you stop?" I toss my purse onto the coffee table and sit beside her, pulling her against me. "Have I told you how much I miss you?"

"Only a dozen times. One for each mile of the?—"

"I get it. You're a modern day saint for enduring that trial. You know you could have worn sensible shoes, like a—oh I don't know—sensible person would have." I motion to the high-heeled boot with a toe pointy enough that I'm surprised airport security didn't consider them a weapon.

She tilts her head so she can look down her nose at me. "I can't very well kick your rear in a pair of flats," she says in a very posh London accent. Or at least what two American girls assume is probably a very posh London accent. "Or a pair of those godawful trainers. Ugh." She scrunches her nose as she looks down at my sneakers.

"Thank you for coming all this way to help me pack." I squeeze her in another hug. "Through all ten miles of the tunnel of unending despair."

"Twelve."

"No matter what it was, I appreciate it. You know that, right?"

She kicks off her other boot and then embraces me back. "And you know I'll always drop everything for you anytime you need me, right?"

"I know." I whisper into her hair. It smells like strawberry, just like it has since the first day I met her.

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