"My mama met my daddy at one of her pageants. She used to be a beauty queen—her big claim to fame was the Miss Kentucky Sunburst win." I laughed a humorless laugh and then was quiet for a minute before continuing. "Anyway, my daddy was working as part of the lighting crew and they fell madly in love. Or at least that's what my mama says. She came from a good family, but when she told them she was pregnant and running off with a tattooed boy from a small mining town, they disowned her. She's tried to contact them over the years, but they won't even take her calls." I shook my head. "He moved her here, worked at the mine for a couple years, decided a wife and family didn't work out so well for him, and hit the road. That was that." I brushed my hands together indicating what my daddy had done with us. Brushed off, brushed aside.
Kyland was looking at me in a thoughtful way, not as if he felt sorry for me, but as if he understood and just accepted. It spurred me to continue.
"What happened with your mama and Edward Kearney?" he asked.
I pursed my lips. "They started having an affair when I was eight and Marlo was eleven. He told her he was going to leave his wife, take care of us, move us into his big house in town. My mama, she thought he was some sort of savior."
"Are you sure that's true? I mean, if your mama sort of has a skewed . . ."
I shook my head. "That's what he told her. This trailer is small, the walls are thin." I looked at him pointedly.
His eyes widened. "He came here?"
"Yup. All the time."
He ran his hand through his hair, his lips pressed together. "Jesus. What a fucking pig." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't.
"He liked it, I think. Coming here. I could see it in his eyes. It gave him some sort of weird thrill. He'd leave money on the table before he left."
Kyland made another disgusted sound in his throat.
"Anyway, this went on for a couple years. He used my mama like she was a whore. She thought she was his beloved." I shook my head again. "One year, my mama dragged us into town to confront him and his wife. The three of us walked eight miles to his house, knocked right on his front door. I was so humiliated." I looked to the side, running my index finger along my lower lip, the despair of that moment coming back to me. I didn't want to meet Kyland's eyes. Kyland remained quiet, waiting for me to continue.
"Edward, he came to the door, and when my mama told him why she was there, he spit on her." I turned my eyes to Kyland's. "He spit on her," I repeated. "And then he slammed the door in her face." I looked off behind Kyland, picturing the way the sky was a deep, twilight blue, picturing the look of devastation on my mama's face, picturing the dust our shoes kicked up as we walked silently home, looking down the whole way.
"Tenleigh . . ." he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
I nodded. "It's just the way it is, I guess."
"No wonder you swore off men," he said with a small smile.
He was teasing me affectionately. I smiled back. "That's why it's a good thing we're just friends."
He chuckled. After a second he asked, "Do you feel weird about applying for the scholarship with Edward Kearney being the administrator and all?"
I shrugged. "Not really. Tyton Coal awards it. He's just the face for it. And if it helps me get out of here, I'm willing to set aside any pride I might have about that."
He nodded, looking thoughtful, his eyes focused downward.
After a few beats, he brought his eyes to mine. God, he was so handsome. Our gazes met and held. I blinked, warmth unfurling in my belly. "Do you want some hot chocolate?"
"Uh, yeah, sure."
I got up, the blanket still around me and went to the small kitchen at the front of the trailer. Kyland followed me, his blanket around him as well. As I went about boiling water, Kyland watched me, leaning his hip against the small doorway. I looked away, concentrating on my task. His masculinity suddenly seemed to fill the trailer. Maybe it was because I wasn't used to having a male share my space, or maybe it was just because I was hyperaware of him in general. And I hated that. I hated it because we were friends. I'd declared it myself. After he'd told me he'd never kiss me again, true. But if we weren't going to kiss then it was either friends or nothing. I took a deep breath and poured the hot water into the two mugs I'd already poured the hot chocolate mix into. I turned off the hotplate and then handed one of the mugs to Kyland. Our hands brushed when he took the handle from me and our eyes both darted upward. "Sorry," I whispered.
"For what?"
I blinked. "Um . . ." For not being able to stop wanting you to kiss me until I'm breathless. For not being able to stop thinking about the way you tasted. For wondering if I'll ever feel the same thrill again that I felt when your lips first touched mine. For lying and pretending I'm happy just being your friend. "For making it so hot." My eyes moved down to the mug in his hand.
"Hot is good. It'll warm us up."
I nodded, scooting past him. I needed some space. What I really needed was a blast of frigid winter air in my face, but I wasn't willing to freeze myself again now that I was finally getting warm.
What did friends do?
"So . . . do you want to play Scrabble or something? I have a few old board games. They were my dad’s."
"Sure. What do you have?"
"Uh, let me look." I went over to a small closet and peered inside at the top shelf. It'd been forever since Marlo and I had played a board game. Suddenly, it sounded like a really fun idea. "Scrabble . . . Uno . . . Monopoly . . ."
"Monopoly!" Kyland said, enthusiastically. I laughed and reached for the game.
I sat on the couch and Kyland sat down next to me. I pulled the coffee table closer to us and started setting it up, putting the money tray in front of me so I could be the banker, and handing him the real estate cards.
"I'd rather be the banker," he said.
I frowned. I was always the banker. But he was my guest after all. I handed him the tray of money.
"And I'm always the shoe," he continued.
Well, that was unacceptable. "I'm always the shoe," I informed him.
"Oh no, uh uh. I'm always the shoe."
"Why would you want to be the old, grungy-looking shoe anyhow? Don't you want to be the luxury car?" I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to fake him out as I held the car up and swept my hand toward it in a lofty presentation.
"No. The shoe represents hard work. And hard work leads to riches. I'm always the shoe."
I raised my eyebrows.
"Why do you want to be the shoe?"
"Because the shoe looks unassuming. No one expects the shoe to come from behind and win it all. Everyone keeps a watchful eye on the luxury car . . . but not the shoe. That guy, he flies right under the radar, or walks as the case may be." I winked.
Kyland laughed, looking pleased. "I like that answer. I say we roll for it."
I grinned. "Deal."
I rolled first. Four.