Page 99 of Friends Don't Kiss

His eyes dance. “Sixteen.”

“Wow. Was that even legal to do that without your parents’ authorization?”

A log rolls in the hearth, prompting Colton to jump off the couch and rearrange the fire. “Course not,” he says as he adds a fresh log to the stack. “The race itself wasn’t legal at the time.”

The couch dips as he sits back, and we both turn our gaze to the crackling fire. “Who got you into it?”

He drags my legs onto his lap and strokes my knees. “You should have been a detective.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“You couldstillbe a detective. You’d get benefits.”

I’ll let this go. It doesn’t matter now, does it? “What made your dad go sober?” I ask instead. That’s a more important side of Colton’s story.

He takes a deep breath. “I think it was when Grace left for Texas. We were worried about her for a while, and when she came back, I think that’s when it hit him. That alcohol was keeping him away from the family. That he could still turn things around. Nothing lasts forever. Not even when you mess up. You can still pick yourself up and make things right.”

The Dennis I know is a good guy—I think. But what do we know of what goes on behind closed doors? “At the end of the day, he was a good person,” I offer, taking his hand between mine. I want to tell him he was luckier than me as far as parents go, but this isn’t a contest.

Colton gives my bare legs a soft squeeze. “Every person makes their own decisions in life. It’s nothing someone else says or does. What your dad did… It was never about you, Kiara. It was about him all along.”

“I know.”

“He didn’t need to shut you off. He could have faced the music and still have his daughters in his life.”

My heart clenches. This is not the discussion I wanted to have. I wanted to talk about Colton, get to know him better. But that’s who he is. He thinks about others before himself. Particularly, it seems, when it comes to me. It’s his love language to try and fix things. In cars as in people. “That’s the thing, though.Shetold me it was my fault. For a seventeen-year-old, it’s near impossible to not believe it.”

He gives my thighs a squeeze. “It’s totally impossible. You know that, right?”

I nod. I don’t answer that the hardest part for me was losing my twin that day. What she did with David would have been hard to come back from, but to top it off she turned against me after what Dad did to us, and I didn’t get it. There was a theme there—I just didn’t want to see it. But I don’t want to talk about this right now. Right now is for happiness.

For the night and day that we stay stuck here, I focus on our own little bubble. There’s so much to discover. Eating berries out of each other’s lips. Showering together. Staying tangled all night and waking to a steamy cup of coffee brought by a totally naked Colton.

We sip it looking out the cathedral window of the A-frame. Then we put the robes on and take a second cup snuggled on the sectional. The storm is over, and the snow glistens as if millions of diamonds were spread on it.

Colton pulls me against him. “Seems like we don’t have a reason to stay here anymore.” His hand moves up and down my arm and we stay like that for a moment, taking in the peace, until he stretches out and stands. “I’m gonna go clear the car.”

“I’ll help.”

He takes our cups to the kitchen. “I only saw one shovel.”

I follow him. “I’m sure there’s another.”

“Sweets.” He swivels and grabs my shoulders. “I know you’re a strong, independent woman. I’m not gonna question that.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Okay,” he concedes. “Lemme get the bulk of it out, and you can help with scraping the windows and shit.”

I get on my toes and kiss the tip of his nose. “Much better. Meanwhile I’ll sit here and watch you flex your muscles while I do my nails.”

He chuckles. “You do that.”

Once he’s outside, I rummage through the cupboards and the stuff we bought at the deli and get started on an apple pie. While it’s in the oven, I join Colton and help him finish clearing the car of snow.

Glancing up at the A-frame with its fairy lights twinkling against the backdrop of snow and evergreens, my thoughts drift to the barn I visited, and my conversation with Emma. Baking the pie earlier, I was thinking how cool it would be to work each day in that type of environment—something between a home and a shop. A place where everyone would want to stop by to pick up dessert or order a birthday cake with pop-up clowns. With the setup the way it is, I’d have ample space to continue making pastries for Chris and Chloe—and even Millie. It would be perfect.

“Where’s your mind at, sweets?” Colton says, bringing me against him with one arm as we walk back to the house.

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