Kyland

He lifted his hand and used his thumb to wipe away a tear still on my cheek. "What do you have to tell me?" he asked softly.

"I'm not really the daughter of a Russian prince."

He blinked at me and then laughed, sudden and deep and warm.

I let out a small laugh, too, and started to remove myself from his arms. But he held me tighter so I sunk back into him, knowing I was all over the place and suddenly not caring. I needed some tenderness. God knew I did. And right that second, I was going to take what Kyland was offering me. It may be temporary, but it would be enough for now.

"No family jewels?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Not even a family pebble. Not even a family grain of sand."

I heard his lips move into a smile.

"That was just a stupid pretend game my sister and I used to play."

"It wasn't stupid," he murmured.

"It was," I said, my voice breaking again. Kyland didn't answer, but his arms tightened around me. I wished I had known that it was dangerous for girls like us to pretend to be princesses. In that moment, dreaming of anything felt dangerous. Dreams failed, and when they did, reality hurt that much more.

"I have to tell you something, too," he said.

"What?" I sniffled.

"There aren't really any bobcats on our mountain. I mean, there are, but they're no danger to us. The 'Bobcat Protection Service' was all a ruse."

"I know," I said softly. I had enjoyed his company, too. I figured that's why he had told me that.

We held on to each other in the doorway for a little while until the wind changed directions and found us again and we both started shivering.

"I need to get you home," Kyland said, helping me to a standing position.

"I'm okay now." I let out a small sound of embarrassment. "I know you left Shelly behind—"

"Shelly got a ride with her brothers. I went for the food and the heat." He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Oh.

"Yeah, me too," I admitted. We both looked down and when we looked back at each other, we each let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Tenleigh . . . I'm sorry I kissed you." He grimaced. "I mean, shit . . . I'm not sorry I kissed you. What I'm sorry about is that I'm not going to do it again." He laughed a small, uncomfortable laugh. "I mean, I'm sorry for me, not for you. I know I'm missing out. I'm missing . . . The truth is, Tenleigh," vulnerability washed over his expression, "you might have noticed, I'm not exactly a catch anyway."

Sympathy filled me. I guessed the truth was that neither of us were exactly a catch—somehow though, that didn't make me feel better. And somehow, Kyland telling me he wasn't a catch felt like a lie he didn't even know he was telling.

"I don't have anything to offer. In six months, I won't even be here," he said.

"Kyland," I interrupted, "how about this, let's just be friends. I could use a friend, I guess." I paused, thinking. "And when we both leave here, under whatever circumstances we do, when we both are catches, we'll remember fondly the friend we once had back home and that'll be that. Okay? Simple." My eyes welled up with tears again and I wasn't even sure why. It didn't feel simple. I wished it did. "Do you have any friends?" I asked. So often, I'd seen him alone.

He shook his head, staring at me, the wheels turning behind his eyes. I couldn't read the expression on his face. "I haven't had a real friend since my brother died."

It felt like a balloon was inflating in my chest, pain for him replacing my own and making it difficult to take a full breath.  "Seems like we could both use one then."

"Yeah," he finally said. His voice sounded sad. "Yeah."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Tenleigh

We started to walk, both putting our heads down against the sting of the wind and cold. After trudging along for a little bit, my feet were wet and I started shivering again. Kyland put his arm around me and pulled me into his body and I let him. By the time we made it to Dennville, the snow had stopped. My feet were still wet, but I was a little warmer from walking and from Kyland's warmth.

"I should call the hospital to make sure Marlo and my mama made it there," I said. There was a pay phone outside the old post office—a rarity nowadays from what I knew. But up on our mountain, cell phone reception was sketchy and many people didn't have landlines. As for us, we couldn't afford either. Kyland nodded and guided me to the small booth where I used the phone book to look up the number to the hospital where I knew Marlo would take mama—the hospital that accepted Medicaid. I fished fifty cents out of my pocket. A few minutes later they'd patched me through to the floor my mama was on and were able to put Marlo on the phone.

"Hey, Ten. I'm so sorry. I was watching her. I just took a damn shower. Are you almost home?"

"Yes, and don't be sorry, Marlo. You and I both know it wasn't your fault. I'm okay. I promise. Do you need me? I could probably figure out a way to get there . . ."

"No. It's my turn. You stayed here last time. You even missed school. And I don't have to work until Tuesday. I'm just sorry you'll spend the holiday alone. We might be here for a few days. I didn't even think about Christmas until I got here and saw the tree in the lobby."

"I'm good. Don't worry about me. I love you." We both knew Christmas didn't mean much in our trailer anyway. It was just another day.