Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
REID
S yanne isn’t the best ice skater I’ve ever seen, but she trumps my expectations for a Texas girl who’s never built a snowman. And if enthusiasm were part of the judging, she’d win a gold medal. It’s the first time in seven years that I’ve cracked a genuine smile on the anniversary of my family’s death. I don’t even feel guilty for being happy. All thanks to Syanne.
After an hour of rigorous skating, punctuated with numerous spills and laughter, we swap our skates for boots and start back.
“Where did you learn to skate?” I fall into step beside her.
“At the Galleria in Houston. But this—” She gestures to the frozen pond behind us. “This was my dream.”
“Why? An indoor rink is a lot smoother.”
“Yes, but every good Hallmark movie has an ice-skating scene at a frozen lake. It’s soooo sweet!”
“Oh, no!” I tease. “You’re one of those people.”
She tilts her chin up. “I’m a hopeless romantic and proud of it. ”
“Then I guess I let you down, today. You got to skate, but it wasn’t romantic.”
“Skating was enough.” Her smile fades, as it did earlier when I probed about the possibility of us being more than friends. “Romance wasn’t part of the bucket list.”
What did I do wrong?
Last night on the porch I’d felt closer to Syanne than I’ve ever felt with anyone. I realized, when she leaves after Christmas, she’ll take a chunk of my heart with her. I almost asked then if she’d consider dating for real, but I didn’t want to spoil the moment. I thought the morning was going great, but now she won’t even look at me.
“We could add a little romance, anyway.” I try again, with a playful shove on her shoulder. “Don’t you feel a crisis coming on?”
No response. Somehow, I messed this up. Things aren’t happening the way I imagined them last night on the long drive to and from the Steamboat sporting-goods store at midnight.
Tension thick, Syanne and I follow the trail back to the cabin. She stops at her stairway and turns, not meeting my eyes. “This fake thing between us—I can’t handle it. I think we should stop hanging out. I’ll deal with Gramma on my own.”
My pulse thunders against my eardrums. “But we get along so well.”
“Because none of this is real.” She circles her hand over her head. “We’re on vacation, and it all seems great. But when the holiday is over, you’ll go back to your job at St. Nick’s, and I’ll fade into a distant memory.”
Every word is a stab in my chest. My tongue grows thick.
“Syanne— ”
She cuts me off. “I know it’s what we agreed on, but I can’t do this anymore.”
She’s up the stairs before I can think of a response. The door closes behind her, the soft click ringing in my ears like a death bell.