Chapter 6
Maisy
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
“Bo? Are you okay?”
“Mfmmfmm.” He spits out some snow from his mouth. “I’m fine. Just bruised my ego.” His eyebrows are in cahoots and his jaw is tense. And for the first time in a while, I don’t fight myself on how gorgeous he is. Even when he’s angry.
Like when I stole his favorite glove back in junior high to play catch with some friends and ripped it. He was pissed at me. I hate to admit how much I loved seeing his intensity, and how much I wanted to make him feel better. How much I wanted to harness that anger and turn it into passion for me.
But that was never going to happen. He was always nice to me because he was friends with my brother.
No matter how hard I crushed on him, I knew nothing was going to happen.
He was too hot. Too cool. Too old for me.
As my dad liked to remind me from time to time.
Particularly after those times when he saw Bo come by asking for Blake who wasn’t home and just the two of us would end up hanging out while he waited for my brother.
I knew Bo didn’t like being at home too much, and I had the biggest crush on him, so it always felt like a win-win.
Brushing back the hair from his forehead to look for scrapes, I say, “I thought you were about to hit that tree.” Hand to heart, I’m just relieved he’s fine.
Now that I can breathe, I have to relieve the tension around me.
The air feels thick as he’s looking into my eyes.
So I blurt out, “By the way, your ego can take it.”
“Brat,” he counters, flicking some glittering snowdust at me.
“Here’s your toque.” I reach to where it fell and offer it to him. “Oh shoot. I just hope it still fits.”
“Why wouldn’t it fit?”
“Because your” —I take both of my hands and widen the space between them, starting at about the size of his head and expanding.
“Whoa, Maisy. What are you thinking about there? I’m not that big.” He brings my hands so that they’re about ten inches apart. “That’s better.”
My cheeks heat the second I realize what he’s talking about. “Oh my God, Bo. I’m talking about your ego.” And to prove my point—and also leave no room for double meanings—I stretch my hands as far as they’ll go. “It’s huge.”
He chuckles. “Ya, it is.” Then he gives me a wink and snatches his toque from my hands.
“You. Are. The. Worst.” I get up on my skis. “I’m leaving you behind.”
“Don’t you dare, Maisy. I’m serious.”
I wouldn’t have left him. It actually felt pretty damn good to have him protect me from that moose earlier. I wasn’t even torn in the moment, I knew instinctively I could trust him. Despite what he did to me last Christmas.
And even though I wouldn’t have made good on that threat, I fold my arms across my chest for a posturing effect.
“Don’t even start with me, Maisy.” He gets up on wobbly feet, and is about to go down again, when I pizza step toward him.
Once I get my skis straight, I put out my hand. “C’mon, baby.”
“Oooh, I don’t remember the last time you called me that, JJ.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re not going to start calling me that again.”
“What? You’re giving me nicknames, I’m just reverting back to the one I used to call you. You still crochet, right? J’s still your favorite hooker?”
“Hook, Bo. It’s called a hook.”
He just winks. “And you’re my favorite hooker.” It shouldn’t, but just like it’s always done before, it melts my heart when he says that. He sees my ninety-year old soul and likes it. Always has. It’s almost my undoing. But then I remember what he did to me.
“Oh my God. Where’s the remorseful, guilt-laden pup with his tail between his legs from earlier today?”
He squeezes my hand and gives it a small tug. “Maisy.”
Fuck. I can hear the seriousness in his tone already. I guess we’re going there.
“What?” I say as aggressively as I can, but it’s definitely more of a hurt whisper.
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
And I hate that I’m about to cry. I’m going to hate each tear that falls, too, because they’re all traitors. Enemies of the state, I tell you.
“Please, Maisy. You have to forgive me. I was such an asshole. I can’t even believe I did that.”
“You were drunk.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” he growls. “I hate myself for what I did to you that night. Please. Say you’ll forgive me.”
I blink so hard I think I’m going to black out, but I just do not want to cry right now.
But then his ungloved hand is swiping something wet off my cheek.
“I’m not crying,” I sniff.
“I know. It’s just a snowflake.” It’s not. “I’m sorry I’m making you not cry. And I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispers.
I just nod because I have no words to say.
He was my biggest crush for years. I thought I loved him but just couldn’t be with him because of the timing.
Because life. Because me. Because I’m not enough for him.
And then he broke my heart before I even had a chance to really give it to him.
And now…I just don’t know if I can forgive him.