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No.
Laney sat straight up in the bath with a gasp, her instant, visceral rejection shocking even as she felt the truth of it.
She wanted more.
But with Kyle?
He wasn’t easily duplicated. Twelve years had proven that point. She swiped at her face, pushing water away from her eyes and that errant desire from her mind, but both dripped back undeterred. Was she falling for Kyle after all? Considering that question was like tiptoeing to the edge of a cliff, and she inhaled a shaky breath.
Memories both old and new rolled over in her head.
The first time Kyle kissed her. She grinned. She had actually kissed him. He’d come to the university library to help her study, and found her in the stacks trying to get a book on the top shelf. A friendly hug turned into a full body press, then she’d pulled his face to hers. She could still feel the pounding of his heart against hers, how his palms went damp in the small of her back, and the unbearable ache in her heart when he pulled away.
That didn’t hold a candle to the misery of walking away from him for good when she left for Harvard. And nothing she’d experienced since coming home compared to any of the low points of their relationship. Relief rolled through her body.
She dressed in flannel pyjama pants, a t-shirt and thick wool work socks. Looking at her bed, she decided she needed a fortifying cup of hot chocolate first and padded downstairs. Her mother had moved to the kitchen and was turning out the lights.
“Can I get you something, sweetie?”
“I just came down to make some hot chocolate. Do you want some?”
Claire shook her head and yawned, so Laney shooed her toward the stairs. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
Claire paused and touched Laney’s cheek. “You okay?”
She nodded. She would be, anyway.
She got the kettle on the stove, then dug out the powdered hot chocolate mix. There was even a bag of marshmallows in the back of the cupboard.
Something scratched at the door as she reached for the whistling kettle. She jumped and whirled around. Someone.
With a finger to her lips, Laney pulled the door open. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.
Kyle stepped in, careful not to make any noise with his boots. “I won’t stay long,” he said, matching her quiet tone. “But I just couldn’t let you go to bed on that note.”
It was dangerous, how much she liked him saying that. She reached for his gloved hand, the leather cold against her flushed fingers, still warm from the bath. Pulling him inside her mother’s kitchen was dangerous too—and not because they needed to sneak around.
She wanted to press up on her toes and lace her arms around his neck. She settled for staying close while he unzipped his coat, then she took it from him.
If she took a surreptitious sniff of it as she hung it on a chair, that was her guilty little secret.
“Are you making hot chocolate?” He asked after pulling her in for a hug. She looked up at him, then followed his gaze to where he was eyeing the canister on the counter.
“Maybe.” She grinned as he tightened his hold on her.
“Can I have some?”
She sniffed, mock-considering saying no. “Don’t you have any at home?”
“I do, but it’s a cold walk back.” He gestured at the driveway.
He hadn’t driven his truck over. He shrugged, as if there wasn’t an easy explanation.
That was the truth for so much of what was going on between them, what was a late night walk in the cold? Maybe he needed the walk to clear his head, or maybe he didn’t want to alert her mother and the neighbours about the late night visit—although Laney had just driven over to his place and back again.
But it didn’t matter. Complicated or not, she was glad to see him again, so she pointed to the table. And just because it helped the narrative in her head to pretend this was like the good ol’ days, she put her finger to her lips again.
Smiling as he gave her an exaggerated nod, she pulled down another mug, then stirred sweetened cocoa powder into hot water and topped both cups with a splash of cream and two floating marshmallows.
