Page 4 of Mine For The Winter

The guy in the car behind him honked his horn, making Kris startle. The road ahead of him had cleared. The jarring sound made Kelly look up, and he turned his head away, because he didn’t want her to know he was back.

Not yet. Not until he was ready to talk to her. To beg forgiveness for what he’d done. But that wasn’t now. He’d deal with his family first and Kelly second.

Her image was still seared into his brain, though. Her glossy mahogany hair falling down to her shoulders, her eyes as wide and expressive as he’d remembered. And those lips. Damn those lips. The ones that had teased him as a kid, the same way he’d riled her up every time they met for lunch in the school cafeteria. The ones he’d lusted after as a teenager.

The ones he’d kissed that fateful night.

Putting his foot on the gas, he stuck his hand out of the window and flipped the car behind him the bird, then pulled away, pushing the memories down because sometimes they were sharp as a knife.

He’d go to the Inn first, and see if his cousin Alaska, who ran it, could find him somewhere to sleep. Then he’d call North and Gabe and admit he’d come home without warning them, because he’d been in a mental debate about his return and wasn’t sure he’d actually make it.

He’d almost got out of his seat before take off and walked back into the airport, after all.

But he was here now, and everything was about to hit the fan.

2

Kelly, age 11

All the other girls were wearing dresses. Okay, notallof them, but the popular ones were. The ones sitting in the center of the cafeteria laughing with their friends, the ones who looked at her like she was a complete weirdo when she walked into class at ten this morning.

Holding her lunch tray tightly in her hands, Kelly squared her shoulders and walked over to a spare chair next to a blonde girl who looked kind of friendly. If friendly came with a wrinkled nose and narrowed eyes.

“That’s taken,” the blonde girl snapped. Okay, definitely not friendly.

The girl sitting next to the blonde chuckled, as though she’d told the funniest joke. She was a redhead who was wearing way more makeup than the dress code allowed. The blonde turned her back to Kelly and leaned in, muttering something to her.

Kelly took a deep breath. It was okay. First days were always bad. Especially when you didn’t want to leave your old school in the first place. And especially when you left because your mom died and your dad couldn’t cope with staying anywhere near the house you grew up in, so he bought a tavern in a mountain town where everybody stared at you like you weren’t supposed to be there.

Another breath. This one felt more difficult. She wasn’t going to cry, she just wasn’t. There was an empty table in the corner. She’d sit there for the lunch hour. She had a book in her bag, it was all good.

She’d almost made it when somebody brushed past her, his shoulder bone sharp as it bumped against hers. He reached out for the chair she’d been aiming for and in her haste to walk somewhere else, she tripped over her beat up sneakers and flew into the air, sending her food and carton of chocolate milk flying.

As soon as her head hit the cold tiles she could feel the tears stinging at her eyes. She hated this school. Hated this town. Wanted to close her eyes and disappear so nobody was laughing at her.

“You okay?” Bony shoulders asked her.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, even though she felt as far from fine as it was possible to be.

Ignoring her, the boy started gathering her food, putting her banana back on the tray, along with her milk carton, and the sandwich she’d chosen from the counter. He turned it over and she could see dust and hair collected on the bread.

“Yeah, you probably don’t want to eat that,” he said. “Come on, you can share mine.”

“It’s fine.” She finally lifted her head, taking in his dark messy hair and black Green Day t-shirt. She was pretty sure the hand holding a grenade printed on the front of it wasn’t dress code either, but he had a flannel shirt over the top. Probably buttoned it up when he was in class.

He put her tray on the table and held out his hand. For a moment she stared at it from her vantage point on the floor. It took her that long to realize he was offering to help her up.

“It’s fine. I can do it myself.”

“Do you know any other words?” Green Day asked.

“Like what?” She stood and brushed the dust from her shirt.

“Anything other thanfinewould be a start. I mean it’s a good word, don’t get me wrong. But a different one might be useful occasionally.”

She looked at him carefully, not sure if he was being an ass or trying to be funny. He was half-smiling, his hair falling down over his eyes.

“Kris Winter,”he said.

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