“Oh.” Her eyes drop. “It’s stupid.”
“Try me.”
“It’s really stupid, but I’ll tell you.” She peers at me through the dim hut. “Once, when I was thirteen, I went to a popular kid’s party with my friend Jody. The party was way out of our league, and we had no business being there, but we took a chance at going because we had each other. Within minutes of arriving, Jody found a cute boy and ditched me—like left the party. I had no one to talk to.” She shrugs as if the action will help her not seem too vulnerable. “I know it’s just a silly junior high party, but I felt so alone and uncomfortable—more than I ever had in my entire life.”
“Why didn’t you call someone to pick you up?”
“I tried, but no one in my family was home. I locked myself in a bathroom until the party was over.”
I walk over to the table, sitting Summer’s mint hot cocoa in front of her. “Were you crying or just sitting in there?”
She rolls her eyes. “I was weeping like a baby.”
“No shame in that.”
“Well, I ended up staying in the bathroom for three hours until I was the last one there, and the kid who threw the party had to drag one of his parents out of bed to drive me home. I was humiliated and traumatized, and I vowed I would never fly solo again. So I don’t. I always make sure I have a plus-one, especially if it’s a non-family event.” She twists her lips into a grimace. “And lately, even if it is a family event. I just hate being the only one not married. I’m like the seventh wheel, and I’m sick of it.”
I nod, casting my eyes over her. Me spending the holidays with her isn’t only about her family not liking Justin. It’s about Summer not feeling alone or like she’s the odd man out. If I could, I’d make sure she was never alone again.
“It’s stupid. I know.” She blows on her cocoa before taking a sip.
“It’s not stupid if it left that big of an impression on you. I get the sentiment. I’ve been living my life with Lars for the last decade, depending on him for all my social interaction, and then he died, and instead of staying out there and sticking it out by myself, I came running home. I think it’s okay to admit you don’t want to be alone.”
“I’m glad to hear I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to fly solo.” She presses her lips into a closed-lip smile before taking another sip. “Mmm. This is the best mint hot cocoa I’ve ever had.”
“It’s probably the mountains and the hut making it taste so good.”
“And the company.”
I stare back at her, feeling the excitement inside my chest flare to life. “You’re not too bad yourself.”
Summer blushes under my compliment, and I wish I could reach out and run my fingers through her hair just so I can watch each piece flipped over fall back to its place.
There’s an unspoken rule when it comes to brothers—it’s even more of a rule when it comes totwinbrothers. You can’t fall for your brother’s girlfriend. And yet here we are. I’ve never envied Justin as much as I do right now. And I’ve never wanted what he has until I met Summer.
And now she’s all I want.
The crackling fire, the smokey wood, and the dancing flames against the cabin walls add to my need to touch her, feel her skin against mine, and ease the tension building in my chest.
I would give anything to kiss her again. To know, this time, she was kissing me because it’s me and not some version of Justin she wished for. I want it so bad I’m willing to go against all my principles. I inch toward her. Summer holds still like she’s just as interested in my next move as I am. Her eyes watch me, and maybe it’s the dancing flames reflecting, but I swear I see a flicker of desire pass through her gaze. My body floods with a million responses. But there’s only one response that I need to pay attention to:
The thought in my mind that Summer is not mine, and I can’t do that to Justin.
No matter the fact that he doesn’t really love her.
No matter how much I care for her.
No matter that I think she might care for me too.
I have to stop.
I take my inching forward and apply it to a stand, raking my fingers through my hair. I’ve never been more frustrated in my entire life—mentally, physically, emotionally. I’m a wreck. And the worst part is, there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s no way to ease the longing.
She’s not mine.
I pace the tiny hut. “I don’t think the other skiers are coming.”
Summer stares at me, and I don’t even try to hide my frustration. “Maybe we should go to bed.”
