Page 78 of The Foul Out

“Maybe,” she said. “But that’s not a promise deal, like doing my nails.”

Warmth blossomed in my chest at her reaction, and I couldn’t help but smile at her.

Kyle, though, kept his expression very serious. “Oh, of course not.” He wiggled his fingers, the blue color hanging off each nail. “Now we file them.”

Piper typically couldn’t stand the sound of a nail file, but she made not one peep as she filed off the extra color. When she finished, Kyle held up his hands and wiggled his fingers.

“What do you think?” he asked, his brows arched expectantly.

Piper nodded and almost smiled.

“Good. Now we do you?” Though it was a question, Kyle had been clear about their deal. If she did his nails, then he got to do hers.

I was still relatively certain his plan would fail. But Piper solemnly nodded and held her hands out.

She flinched multiple times and definitely wore a pained expression through most of the process, but she didn’t cry, and she didn’t fight him. She just let him clip her nails nice and short and then make hers match his.

Eventually, she held them up and looked into the living room. “Look, Mom.”

“They look beautiful.” My eyes welled, and my chest ached. For most kids, clipping their nails was a simple task. But it was such a struggle for us. For years, I’d dreaded it almost as muchas she did. Now I didn’t have to have the fight. I blinked hard, fighting the tears pooling in my eyes, and once they were under control, I took a deep breath and turned to Kyle. “Thank you,” I mouthed.

Piper rubbed her fingers together, cringing. “Can I wash this dust off?”

“Yes.” I gave her a smile. Once she was shuffling down the hallway, I approached Kyle, who was standing next to the table, cleaning up, and lifted onto my toes and pressed my lips against his cheek.

His breath hitched at the small gesture, surprising a smile from me.

“Thank you,” I repeated.

He wrapped his arm around me and held me tight to his solid chest, the connection flooding me with a weird mix of warm comfort and antsy desire. “Anything,” he whispered into my hair.

“Knock, knock,” Zara called as she pushed the door open.

Kyle and I flinched apart. We had nothing to hide, especially not from Zara, who was smirking like she’d seen our embrace. But it felt strange. Like the bond between us was too new for other people’s eyes yet. Like it was just ours. And I kind of wanted it to stay that way for a bit.

“I’m dropping Sam and heading out,” Zara said. “I know—” Her eyes went wide, and she took a step toward Kyle. “Are you wearing nail polish?”

I expected Kyle to try to hide it or play it off. Instead, he proudly held them up just as Piper came back into the room.

“I am. Piper did a good job, didn’t she?”

“Is that a Revs logo?” Zara stepped closer, head tilted, inspecting his hand.

“Yeah. Very talented girl.” He pointed to Piper.

“They match,” Piper said, her cheeks pink, as she tentatively lifted her hand next to his.

“Quite lovely.” Zara nodded. “I’m going to dash.”

“Remind Asher that I’m picking him up Monday at six for the hockey game.”

“What?” Zara’s eyes narrowed.

“The Bolts game.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Right,” she said, though it was clear by her confusion, then by her disappointment, that she hadn’t known. Pasting a fake smile on, she waved to me and herded Grey out the door.

“I’m going to head out too.” Kyle studied me, his jaw tight and his eyes swimming with uncertainty once again. “Unless?—”

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