Kyland rolled second. Three. He laughed. "All right. You're the shoe. Fair and square."
An hour later we had survived a stock market crash, were deeply involved in several land deals, and had passed "Go" more times than I had kept track of. Kyland was winning and I was not happy. I landed on another of his damn railroads.
He laughed and my eyes snapped up to his. "What's so funny?"
"I never would have guessed you to be so competitive, Tenleigh Falyn." He grinned, quite pleased with himself.
"Hrrmph," I grunted, counting out money for the railroads.
"Monopoly tip: always buy the railroads first."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're not winning so much that you get to give me winning strategy advice just yet, mister." I paused. "I never buy the railroads. Railroads are boring."
"Well, you should. Compared to the other properties, the flow of revenue from the railroads is more constant over time. Owning all four of them is a cash cow. You can use them to fund your other monopolies."
I glanced up at him, pausing. I tilted my head. I knew he was working toward the scholarship, but I hadn't realized just how smart Kyland really was. And suddenly it hit me—he couldn't stay here. He had to get out if he was going to utilize those smarts of his. Something that felt like deep sadness filled me, but I was confused. Being smart was not a sad thing—especially with the lack of it going on in Dennville, Kentucky.
"I shouldn't be giving you all these tips, but obviously," he swept his hand over the board indicating the fact that he was winning, "you could use them."
I laughed. "Asshole," I muttered. He laughed, too.
An hour after that, I was utterly bankrupt and practically seething. Kyland couldn't keep the amusement off his face. It was maddening.
Really, though, I hadn't had that much fun in forever.
"All right—I concede. You've officially wiped me out and hung me up to dry. Congratulations." I picked up the board and dumped the pieces into the box as Kyland laughed.
"If you're lucky, I'll give you a rematch."
"Hmmph."
There was a knock on my trailer door and I looked up, confused.
"Who is it?" I called.
"It's Buster."
"Buster . . ." I said, rushing to the door and opening it, a blast of icy air making me step back. "Get in here." Buster West was my neighbor, one of the oldest on the hill, a strange, but kindhearted guy who would bring us rhubarb by the basketful in summer.
"Hi there, Missy," he said, smiling and pulling his hood down.
"What are you doing out in this weather, Buster?"
"Just came to drop off a Christmas gift." He looked over at Kyland.
"Buster, do you know Kyland Barrett? He lives down the hill—"
"I surely do. Hi, son. How's your mama?"
"Hi, sir. Uh, she's okay. Doesn't get out much, you know."
Buster frowned. "No, don't reckon she does." He looked at Kyland for just a beat too long. What was that about? I looked over to Kyland and he had his hands in his pockets and was looking down at the floor.
"Ah, so, here you go." Buster held out something wrapped in white tissue paper. I took it from him.
"You didn't have to do this." I smiled uncomfortably, shifting on my feet. I knew exactly what this was and I didn't want to open it in front of Kyland. But Buster was standing there looking so pleased and expectant, so I unwrapped the tissue and held up the piece of whittled wood, trying my best not to cringe. I couldn't help the heat I felt making its way up my neck, though. Buster was a pornographic whittler. As far as I knew, he was making his way through the Kama Sutra. This one featured a woman kneeling in front of a man, giving him a blowjob as he yanked on her hair, his head thrown back in ecstasy.
Well.
"Wow, Buster. This is . . . very . . . romantic."
Kyland made a strange choking sound in the back of his throat and began coughing.
Buster smiled dreamily. "That it is," he said. But then his face grew concerned. "How's Annabelle?" he asked, referring to my mama.
"She's in the hospital again."
He nodded. "I figured. Saw her ripping out of here in that sash. I came straight across to get Marlo," he said, putting the "t" on the end of the word across as mountain folks did. "Poor girl was in the shower." He shook his head. "Glad they're gettin' her patched up."
Well, that was one way to put it. I just nodded. "Oh hey, I have something for you, too," I said, reaching for a small tin under the Christmas tree.
I handed it to Buster and he grinned. "Lavender tea. My favorite. You're a gem, Miss Tenleigh."
I laughed. "You're welcome." Truthfully, I made lavender tea for him whenever I could, not just at Christmas, because I knew he loved it. So it wasn't anything too exciting. But he was very sweet to act as if it was.
"Well, you two have a Merry Christmas." He pulled his hood up and smiled over at Kyland and then kissed me on the cheek, his lips cold and dry.
"You, too," I said.
I let Buster out and then looked over at Kyland, the smutty whittled art in my hand. "I've got a whole collection of them," I said.
Kyland threw his head back and laughed. I joined him. "I swear, that old man has a screw loose. But, I love him."
Kyland shook his head, still chuckling. "Can I see that?"
I handed him the figures and he looked closely at them, turning them this way and that. "Damn, Buster has mad whittling skills." He kept looking for a minute, seeming to remember suddenly that I was watching him. His face sobered. He cleared his throat.
I put the gift under my small tree and turned to Kyland, his expression intense and heated. My skin prickled and flushed with heat. I picked at the hem of my sweater. I didn't know how to address this tension between us. We were friends. Right?
"I better get home, you know, in case my mama needs me."
I nodded. "Yes. Right. Of course." I glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost ten o'clock.
Kyland looked uncertain. "You sure you're okay?" he asked as he quickly put on his socks and stepped into his shoes.
"Yeah." I smiled. "I am now. Thank you." I looked down, feeling shy again for some reason. "Thank you so much."
He nodded, his eyes straying to my lips before he jerked them back up to my eyes again. We both moved at once, me toward the door to let him out, and him to his jacket that was now dry. He pulled it on.
I opened the door. "You be safe walking home," I said softly. "It's slippery, and—"
"Bobcats," we both said at once and then laughed.
Kyland sobered. "I'll be safe, I promise," he said, his eyes lingering on me again.
"All right."
"All right."
He took the two steps down until he was standing in the snow. "Lock the door behind me. When I hear it click, I'll go."
I nodded. "Good night, Kyland."
"Good night, Tenleigh."
I shut the door and clicked the lock into place. I walked slowly back to the couch, bringing the blanket around me as I sat staring blankly at our small Christmas tree. The trailer suddenly seemed too quiet and lonely. And something was wrong—something was niggling at my mind. I felt tense. I needed to do something, and I couldn't figure out what. Before I could though, my eyes grew sleepy. I lay back and in minutes, I was fast asleep.
I didn't wake up again until the light of Christmas morning was shining through the windows of our trailer, a chorus of winter wrens singing their greeting.