I don’t.
At a light in front of an outdoor Christmas market, Jake looks at me in the rearview mirror. His eyes are narrowed, and I getthe sense that we’re in a stare off. The SUV idles, the quiet hum of the engine the only sound while Scottie scrolls through her phone, oblivious.
Poppy elbows me lightly, and I look away, losing this round to Jake. Through the window, twinkling lights from the market blur past as we start moving again.
“It’s the least we can do,” she mouths.
“You’re too nice for your own good,” I grumble, but maybe there’s wisdom in having company. With how badly I want more with her—and with how a small part of me is telling me to run before I ruin everything—Jake and Scottie are the buffer I probably need.
“All right,” I say, looking back at Jake. “What are we doing first?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
POPPY
Between forcing Oliver to admit the Bee Gees deserve respect at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, beanie and scarf shopping at the Christmas Market, and now ice skating at Public Square—in a wheelchair—my heart hasn’t been this full in years.
Oliver and I aren’t holding hands, but we may as well be. Our arms brush constantly. Our fingers skim every chance they get. We aren’t kissing, but every time he skates backward in front of me, tugging on the rented wheelchair, our eyes catch and hold, and I can feel the weight of his gaze on my mouth. I can remember the taste.
“Why are they so good at ice skating?” I ask Scottie when Jake and Oliver have their third race around the rink.
“You know how it is,” she says, skating much more comfortably than I am. “Growing up in the Northeast.”
“I went skating with my dad once,” I say, but I’m pulling that memory from the recesses of my mind. “And on a field trip in third grade. But I haven’t skated since.”
“My family went a lot. And because I’ve been stuck with Jake since before I was born, so did he,” she says. “Between us, I’m a better skater than he is.”
“But you don’t want to make him feel bad?” I ask, thinking we have this in common.
She snorts. “Uh, no. I tweaked my back sleeping on my brother’s couch. I love making that turd feel bad.”
I laugh. She’s being patient to stay so near me, so I know she’s nicer than she’s letting on. “How long have you and Oliver known each other?”
“Mm, eight, nine months. He’s a tough nut to crack. I’m impressed he’s let you in so quickly,” she says, her eyes scanning my face. “You said your middle name is Grace. And your last name is Lewis, right?”
I nod. “Yup. My dad always called me Gracie Lou.”
Scottie laughs, a little too hard, honestly.
“Perfect,” she says. “That is perfect.”
“I think I’m missing something,” I say.
“Have you noticed Fletch’s phone case?”
“Uh, sure,” I say. It’s a generic green.
“Look closer, will you?”
I tilt my head up at her. How random. But before I can follow up, Jake and Oliver are rushing towards us, weaving past people with ease. Oliver has a wolfish grin on his face as he locks his eyes on me. I haven’t seen this look on him yet, but I like it.
I like it a lot.
They reach us at the exact same time. Oliver stops with a spray of ice to my left.
Jake sprays Scottie right in the face.
“I hate you,” she says, wiping her face and throwing the slush at him.
