Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I lifted my head and met Kyland’s eyes—dark and in shadow in the dim light of the covered doorway. “I have to tell you something,” I said.
He 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 to smile. 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.
“Not 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 made it up.
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.
“Let’s get you home,” Kyland said, helping me to a standing position.
“I’m okay now. 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 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, you might have noticed, I’m not exactly a catch anyway.”
Sympathy filled me, and understanding. Forgiveness. Maybe the truth was that neither of us was 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
I put my head down against the sting of the wind and cold as we started to walk. 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 close 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 we always took Mama—the hospital that accepted Medicaid. I fished fifty cents out of my pocket. A few minutes later they had patched me through to the floor my mama was on and were able to put Marlo on the phone.