Thirteen
Isla
“ A kiss? On skates? Are you kidding me?”
I scan the card containing our final clue, rubbing my thumb over the paper like I can make the words change through sheer willpower.
With warm lips, hearts will thaw,
In a land where ice is law.
Blades will glide, mouths will meet,
Only then will the game complete.
“That’s what it takes to win?” I gesture toward the frozen pond. “ Really ?”
The smooth ice stretches out before us, sparkling beneath a canopy of twinkling lights. Couples glide hand in hand, swaying to the soft, slow string version of “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”
At the center of the makeshift rink looms a towering arch, draped in greenery and mistletoe. The gallows —if you ask me. Every so often, a pair skates under it, their lips locking in a dramatic kiss that’s met with a chorus of applause and a gaudy, sparkling trophy.
Nerves coil in the pit of my stomach. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s a holiday scavenger hunt for couples,” Theo says. “It makes perfect sense.”
“The whole lips-and-mouths part had me hoping for food !” I moan, and my stomach growls in solidarity.
He lets out a quiet laugh. “I’m sure we can still find you a bite to eat. They usually serve pretzels around here.”
“Shouldn’t you be angrier?” I huff. “You like winning. This was a waste of your time.”
“I beg to differ.”
I’m not sure how to decipher his relaxed posture or the gravity behind that statement, so I go with indifference. “Well, whatever. We came close. Good effort, partner!” I throw him a spiritless high-five, hoping my voice sounds more casual than my pounding heart feels. “Let’s get out of here.”
Pivoting, I’m about to head in the opposite direction of the rink when Theo’s fingers wrap around my bicep.
“Hang on.” His grip is steady but gentle as he turns me toward him again. “You’re really going to let one little kiss stop you from claiming that glittery monstrosity? Think of the design inspiration—it’s begging for a makeover.”
“I—” Shaking my head, I pull away. “I can’t kiss you.
” Can’t willingly expose my heart to the crushing pain of rejection again.
And even if I were to lose my mind and throw caution to the wind, an Asher-shaped barrier stands between us.
Thankfully, for once, our charade presents the perfect shield for imprudent feelings. “I’m dating your brother.”
“My brother,” Theo says coolly. “You mean the brother who’s with Sienna right now?”
I swallow, forcing myself to maintain eye contact. “I won’t humiliate my best friend.”
He steps closer, looming over me. “And if Asher wasn’t in the way…?”
The deliciously sharp edge in his voice pulls me toward something darker. Something combustible. A place where I press myself against him and finish that sentence with a kiss that’s years overdue.
“What then, Isla?”
My mouth dries. The rink disappears, all noise fading into the periphery.
It’s just us now, standing on the edge of a wildfire, toeing the burn zone.
I bite my lip, trying to smother the flames licking at my imagination.
Too late. The explicit images spread fast.
Theo’s mouth. His hands.
All of him.
On me. In me.
Everywhere.
All senses flare to life at the graphic pictures that engulf my mind, and I allow myself to indulge the thought of Theo touching, tasting, taking me with the force of all the years we’ve spent apart.
He’d be exactly what I want. What I need.
I know it on an instinctual level.
I’m dying to experience it on a cellular one .
Just as the fantasy takes flight, he pulls away. The delusion pops on impact, dousing me in ice-cold reality. His warmth vanishes, leaving me flushed and dizzy as the world tilts back into focus.
“Did you know the final challenge would be a kiss?” It’s a stupid question, but his calm demeanor and easy embrace of the situation needles my curiosity.
He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes lingering on my mouth.
After a long pause, he nods. “Yes.”
“And you still wanted to play?”
“Yes.”
“With me?”
“ Fuck yes .”
His confession zips through me like a sudden bolt of lightning. But unlike electricity, it fails to ground itself. Instead, it stays crackling under my skin.
My lips tingle, catching fire under the volatility of his stare.
Pulse thundering in my ears, I steady my breath and step back to force some distance between us.
“I can’t,” I say, even though my body protests the decision. “I’m too old for games.”
His expression stays unreadable, but a spark flickers in his eyes. One I know better than to chase.
I shake my head. “Forget the hunt. Let’s get some s’mores.”
Sugar over heartbreak.
Not sticking around for his answer, I rush away from the rink. My chest is tight and my heart pounds erratically, but I refuse to look back.
If Theo wants to follow, he can. But it’ll be on my terms.
It’s safer that way.
The springs part of Sugarpine Springs are tucked away at the town’s edge, surrounded by towering evergreens that fill the air with a fresh, crisp scent.
A rustic wooden fence, lined with icicles, borders the steaming water.
The glassy points catch the fading sunlight, making the entire area sparkle so bright it might as well be draped in diamonds.
This tranquil space has always been my refuge. After the loss of my parents, I spent hours here, hiding as the world collapsed around me. Crying. Wishing. Bargaining. Surrendering to darkness and despair.
We get to the food stall just in time to hear the vendor announce, “Last call!”
Theo steps up and orders two Snowy S’mores, his hand wrapping around mine when I reach for my wallet.
“I’m still your teammate for the night. Wouldn’t be right if I let you pay for your prize.”
“What’s going on?” I eye him carefully.
The easygoing attitude, the playfulness, the kiss proposal…
“What happened to years of stony silence?”
He doesn’t respond, just turns and heads toward the bridge.
Yes, that bridge. The one with initials carved into its railing like a shrine to countless love stories.
With the sky starting to darken and the food no longer being served, the place has cleared out. We’re the only two people on the old, wooden structure .
A stillness—neither comfortable nor unpleasant—settles around us as we stand side by side, transfixed by the sun’s diminishing amber rays glinting off the water below.
To distract from the tension, I take a bite of my s’more. A low moan escapes my throat as the blend of warm chocolate, gooey marshmallow, and buttery graham cracker melts on my tongue. The peppermint coating hits next, a refreshing burst of cool flavor that balances the richness.
“These are life changing.” I sigh. “Totally worth forfeiting the trophy for a taste.”
When I glance back at Theo, expecting his usual scowl, I’m met with something far sharper. His gaze is fixed on my mouth, tracking its movement as I chew. The intense, possessive weight of it sends a shiver down my spine.
“You’ve got a little…” He gestures toward my lips.
I swipe at an arbitrary spot. “Did I get it?”
“No.” He lifts his hand. “Want me to…?”
I nod and he leans in, slowly brushing my bottom lip. The interaction stretches long enough to cross into undeniably intimate territory.
By the time he pulls away, he’s set fire to my skin. I’m burning all over. My pulse drums against the spot where he touched, demanding an encore.
Without breaking eye contact, Theo slides his thumb into his mouth, and my world narrows to that single provocative action—the flick of his tongue, the low growl in his chest, the way he takes his time like he’s savoring a forbidden taste.
“Definitely life changing.” His voice is rougher now, all grit and gravel.
“I’m starting to question if you even hate sugar,” I whisper.
His lips twitch. “Maybe the source makes a difference. ”
Two times today, his fingers have found my mouth. I’m tempted to see where else a smear of chocolate might lead him.
I take a bite of my s’more, hoping the taste will be distraction enough to drown out that wild craving.
Nope . It only fuels my appetite.
“At least you can count yourself safe from confessions on Starlight Summit this year!” I blurt. “Isn’t that a relief?”
Theo scans the horizon as tension carves hard lines into his face. “You were nineteen , Isla.”
I blink, his statement landing like a slap, dragging me back to that mortifying Christmas Eve six years ago. “You make it sound like I was a child.”
Back when I was an actual kid, Theo wasn’t even on my crush radar.
By the time I was a pre-teen, starting to see boys as interesting—albeit stinky—creatures, he was long gone from under the Thornes’ roof.
Despite being around Asher my whole life, Theo and I hadn’t connected until after my parents’ passing.
“You weren’t,” he says, his tone gentler now, almost apologetic. “But you’d just gone through a traumatic time. You were vulnerable. I was a lot older. It would’ve been wrong on so many levels. I didn’t want to—” His brow furrows. “I liked you too much to risk ruining things. Ruining you.”
“Oh, so you were protecting my virtue like some knight in shining armor?” The bitterness that slips out is more severe than I’d intended.
“Hardly, considering how terribly I wanted—” He cuts himself off with a muttered curse.
Why, oh why, do I want him to finish that sentence?
“Asher asked me to look out for you while he was off doing that Continental Chronicles internship. Help you figure out your next steps school- and career-wise.” He drags a hand over his jaw. “I was your mentor. I’d earned the privilege of your friendship. You trusted me.”
“So you made a choice for me?”
“I made a choice for me !” He turns his gaze to the bubbling water below, but not before I catch the flash of anguish across his features.
When he speaks again, his voice is lethally sharp and full of eerie detachment.
“My father was thirteen years older than my mother. Her fucking boss. She was only twenty-one when they got married. Yeah, she was technically an adult, but he’d preyed on her from the start.
Abused his power. Her vulnerability. And, eventually, her body and mind. ”
I find myself holding my breath as he continues.
“He stole her shine. Extinguished her light. It took a long time and a lot of therapy for her to heal from what he did. I never want to be that guy. I never want to hurt someone I care about.”
“Theo…” I step closer, my right hand finding its way to his left. “You’re nothing like him. I’ve never felt unsafe with you. When I was at my lowest, you were there. And you never asked for anything in return.”
“I didn’t want anything,” he says, softening. “But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t… want .”
Oh. Oh .
“You could’ve said something,” I tell him. “Asked me to wait?”
“That would’ve still tied you to me. Just as tightly—if not tighter. It wouldn’t have been fair.”
“What you did wasn’t fair either.” My voice cracks. “The way you shut me down was cruel.”
Theo’s shoulders stiffen. “If I hadn’t pushed you away, I wouldn’t have been able to keep my distance.
I hear how cowardly that sounds now. It was selfish of me.
A dick move that protected my peace by stealing your agency.
” He exhales roughly, running a hand over his face.
“I’ve been seeing a new therapist this year.
One who doesn’t let me skate by on logic.
She calls me out on my shit—makes me confront actual feelings. I’m getting better at…”
“At…?” I press when he trails off.
“Talking.” There’s a rawness in his eyes. Vulnerable and unguarded, it’s a departure from the confident, put-together man intent on keeping the world at arm’s length. “Actually saying what I mean. Owning up to what I want—even if I don’t always think I deserve it.”
“And what is it you want, Theo?”
His fingers twitch against the railing.
Do it , I beg silently. Touch me.
“I—” He cuts off, gaze snagging on a mark in the wood between his hands.
His breath catches. I choke on mine.
As if on cue, the twinkling lights on the bridge come alive, highlighting my transgression.
“So, yeah…” Embarrassment lights a bright flame across my skin. “I might’ve defiled the railing a bit.” I clear my throat, fiddling with my bangs like I could maybe use the long, wispy strands to cover up the heat on my face. “It was a long time ago. Please pretend you don’t see it, okay? ”
Theo traces the initials. “Want me to change that T into an A for you?”
“No.” The word comes much too quickly, so I fumble to elaborate. “The carving is too old.” Too deep—and not just inside the wood. “Changing it will make a mess of the railing.”
Weak , but he surprises me by nodding.
Without speaking, he holds out his still-wrapped s’more to me.
As soon as I claim the treat, he pulls his parents’ house key from his jacket pocket and gets to work, deepening the etching. I nibble a corner of the graham cracker and let myself enjoy the view. His strokes are swift and precise, quiet control threaded through every flex of his muscles.
Theo isn’t just marking the wood—he’s reworking the past. Reclaiming the initials I once carved in naive hope. Giving them weight. Permanence.
Maybe, despite all the years and distance between us, I+T can still stand for something.
The only question is…am I brave enough to find out what ?