by Dani Collins
“Ouch. What does that mean?” She tilted up her face.
His was really close, his hug around her supportive and protective, the fog of their breaths mingling.
“I don’t know. How old were we? I might have been ten? You were six or seven? Until then, you were just another pair of hands building Legos. But that day I realized you had your own interests and opinions. You weren’t just Carson’s kid sister.”
“You’re skating pretty close to sexism, Finnigan. Or, rather, I am.” She laughed as her foot threatened to slip out from under her. She clutched her fist into the back of his jacket.
He laughed and tightened his hold. “I was ten. It was a while before I saw you as a girl, so I was myopic, not sexist.”
“You didn’t see me as a girl?” She slapped her hand onto the closed snaps at the top of her jacket. “I don’t know if I’m flattered or crushed.” Way too much of both, as it turned out.
“I thought girls were like Penny, always worried about their makeup. You did everything we did, climbing trees and racing bikes. I didn’t see the girlie side of you until—”
They arrived outside the basement doors, but hovered there in the cold. Finn left his arm loose at her waist as she angled to face him.
“I don’t want to mention it,” he said with a twitch of his mouth. “You might cry again.”
“That haircut!” She ducked her head and felt the cold fabric of his jacket graze her forehead. “It was horrible. And it was the day before school, Finn. My first day of high school.”
“I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“Because you didn’t think I was a girl!” she accused with a laugh, lifting her face.
“I kind of figured out that part when you made me stare at you for a solid thirty minutes, dissecting what was wrong with each strand. It was pretty short here.” He brushed his gloved fingertip across her brow.
“My bangs were way too short. If I’d done that to myself, fine, but I paid for it. With my hard-earned babysitting money.” She’d gone to Butte with her mom—which was a thriving metropolis compared to her hometown. She had thought she would come back wearing a sophisticated new city look. Instead: “I looked like I was headed to RenFair as an indentured pageboy.”
“It was cute. It made this chin look very delicate and feminine and your eyes were big and teary.” His gloved fingertip brushed the point of her chin and his gaze searched hers. “I wanted to hug you.” His arm around her tightened slightly. His voice lowered to a rueful, quiet tone. “Kiss it better.”
His gaze went to her mouth, which suddenly tingled.
She looked at his mouth, grew insanely warm.
Beside them, the door slid open with an abrupt and urgent rattle, startling them apart.
“You guys,” Sarah said in a hiss. “I need your help!”
“What’s wrong?” Kristen was instantly alarmed, thoughts flying to Wendy.
She stepped into the basement with Finn and closed the door.
“Shh.” Sarah touched her lips. “Wendy’s asleep in the living room, but come here.” Sarah waved them to follow her toward the boxes stacked against the back wall. They were the unused Christmas decorations. “I had an idea for something we could do for the ceremony. So it can face the fireplace.”
“What ceremony?” Finn asked.
“You didn’t tell him?” Sarah asked Kristen.
“It’s a secret. Of course not.”
“Oh. I thought—” Sarah shrugged a bit. “Okay, well, I’m organizing a wedding for Wendy and my dad.” Sarah craned her neck to ensure Wendy hadn’t crept down the stairs to eavesdrop.
Finn frowned in confusion. “They’re already married, aren’t they?”
“They eloped. I’ll explain later,” Kristen assured him. “What do you need?”
“I have to finish Dad’s scarf and while I’m sitting there knitting, I can make sure Wendy doesn’t come down. If we use this stuff…” She dug through the boxes and came up with some of the fake holly. “Oh. I thought there was more. Maybe it won’t work.” Her shoulders fell.
“What was your plan?” Kristen asked.
“Well, there’s a thing in Finn’s apartment, like a bar on rollers for clothes. Is it still there?” she asked Finn. “Because I thought I could decorate it so it’s one of those archway things you get married under.”
“An arbor,” Kristen provided.
“Yeah, but maybe it won’t work. There aren’t enough decorations left.” Sarah dug gloomily into the box, but only came up with a few sprigs of holly.
“The rack is probably too short and wide,” Finn said. “But you know what I saw in the shed where your dad keeps the sand? One of those garden arches made out of lattice.” He drew an arch through the air.
“For the garden by the pond!” Sarah recalled with excitement. “Wendy got it on sale at the end of last summer. She was so happy, but Dad didn’t want to put it out until spring. He said the winter would be too hard on it and he had to paint it first.”
“Good spotting, Finn.” Kristen nudged his elbow with hers.
“We still don’t have enough stuff,” Sarah said with a frown at the boxes.
“You have an actual holly tree out front,” Kristen pointed out. “Plus there’s ribbons and bows with the gift wrapping.”
“Cedar boughs would make it smell nice,” Finn suggested.
“Can you guys decorate it? Please, please, please?” Sarah wrung her hands as she beseeched them.
“Don’t you have to leave?” Kristen asked Finn.
“It won’t take long. Where would we do it? Here?”
Kristen glanced at the abundant space and concrete floors. “It would be easy to sweep up, but where do we hide it after? My room?”
“Do you mind?” Sarah asked.
“No, but the gifts and paper are in my room. I told Wendy I’d help her finish wrapping tonight. She’ll be in there with me. I guess it could go in the closet.”
“What closet?” Sarah asked with confusion.
Oh, good grief. Thank goodness Christmas was only two days away. The delicate house of cards made of Christmas secrets was going to collapse under the next misspoken word.
“Just a corner that I curtained off,” Kristen blatantly lied. “I’ll get the ribbon.” She started up the stairs rather than face more questions. Sheesh!
“I’ll get the arch,” Finn said. “And some pruning shears.”
“Do you need help carrying it?” Kristen turned on the stairs to ask.
“It should be light enough I can manage.”
“It is. Wendy and I put it in Dad’s truck ourselves,” Sarah said.
“Okay. You make sure Wendy doesn’t wake up and look out any windows,” Kristen said to Sarah.
Sarah gave her a thumbs-up, Finn went out the side door and Kristen ran up the rest of the stairs.
*
Half an hour later, Finn had delivered the archway to the basement and they’d both polished off a quick sandwich. Kristen was back outside with him, collecting cedar branches into a cardboard box she’d brought outside with them. The day hadn’t warmed up any and they were working as fast as their numb fingers would allow.
“Ted and Wendy got married at the courthouse, spur of the moment,” Kristen explained, breath clouding. “None of the family was there so Sarah is doing this as a gift to all of them.”
“She’s a really sweet kid.” Finn stretched to get a nice bough, then gave it a shake to dislodge the snow before he handed it to her and reached for the next one.
“She really is. One with a romantic streak.” Kristen eyed him as she set the pungent-smelling bough in the box. “Much as she wants everything to be just so for the wedding, she might also be, um, playing matchmaker.” With us. She felt self-conscious as she said it. Was it obvious that she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea?
“I got that vibe,” Finn said with a wry smile as he handed over another bough.
“I explained to her that we’re just f
riends,” Kristen hurried to assure him.
He didn’t say anything as he clipped the next bough, then looked her straight in the eye as he gave it to her. “I think we’re a little more than ‘just friends,’ aren’t we?”
It was a teenaged crush, she had blurted the other day. She had been trying to hide the impact their breakup had had on her, but she couldn’t help thinking she had built up their summer romance into more than it had been for him.
“We kept it pretty light that summer,” she reminded as she moved with him beneath the tree, stepping into his footsteps so she wouldn’t get snow in her boots.
“That’s because—” Finn let his arms drop and gave her a penetrating stare. A small frown pulled at his brows. “You remember that day at Hot Rocks.”
A flush of heat went through her so hard, her nerve endings stung all over her whole body. Sensation bled back into her numb cheeks and her gaze dropped into the box of cedar branches out of pure shyness.
“Yes,” she murmured.
Hot Rocks was the local swimming hole. Carson had been working or sleeping. Either way, he hadn’t been there to provide the normal balance of neutralizing energy between them. It hadn’t felt weird for Kristen to accept Finn’s invitation to go swimming. They’d done it a million times, if never just the two of them. But they were friends.
Just friends.
Somehow, though, as they’d been lying there drying off, a kiss had happened. A kiss that had ignited a circle of flame around them. What should have been a light, playful, exploratory teenage flirtation had exploded into a passionate kiss that had had them clinging to each other, half nude bodies adhering as the final drops of water sizzled dry between them.
Finn had abruptly jerked away and leapt out into the air, hitting the water with a big enough splash the drops had hit her where she was, five feet above him.
Heart pounding, Kristen had crept to the edge of the rocks to see him shaking the water out of his eyes. She remembered thinking how grown-up he looked, even though his hair needed cutting and she could only see his head and shoulders. He was the Finn she’d always known. The boy next door.
Yet there had been something in his gaze that was knowing and mature. Stern, even, but confident. Dangerous and reassuring at once. Able to control the uncontrollable even when it had nearly swallowed both of them.
“Did I do something wrong?” she’d asked, feeling horribly uncertain at the way he’d bailed on what had seemed like a really amazing moment.
“No.” His voice had been hard, yet amused. “But we might, if we’re not careful. Come on in.” He jerked his head in invitation. “Cool off.”
She had sprung off the edge in a canon ball, coming up to find him wiping the splash from his face. He’d been grinning, but with a somber edge to it.
“I liked that a little too much,” he said, flicking his gaze up to where they’d left their towels. “In the way of guys my age who derail their future and wind up buying a house and getting a job at the mill. You have plans, too. If we’re going to see each other all summer, we need to keep it from getting too serious.”
Her brain had been whirling with barely dampened teenaged hormones and the realization that, yes, those feelings were strong enough to have her considering a gamble with her future. Atop that, however, had been the sweetest layer of giddy excitement.
“You want to see me all summer?”
His expression had softened into something indulgent as he moved closer in the water. “I can’t think of anyone else I would want to spend the summer with. You?”
He’d been really close by then, so she could feel the stir of the water around them as they both lazily tread water. Similar tickling, swirling sensations were flowing through the inside of her body, lending buoyancy to her heart in her chest.
“It might be my last summer at home. I would love to spend it with you,” she had admitted.
He’d kissed her again, but had kept it brief and light, lovely, yet frustrating. He was right, she knew he was right, but oh, she had yearned to wrap her arms around him and let passion take over.
She had ducked to cool her head. They had gamboled like dolphins and kissed briefly again before they came out of the water. He’d held her hand as they walked back to his car.
For the rest of the summer they’d made a point of keeping their physical contact more affectionate than ardent. Her emotions had run deep, though, and she’d been convinced his did as well.
Even so, when she had suggested changing schools, he had encouraged her to stick with her plans. He’d sounded so confident that they could weather the distance.
“You were really young, Kristen. We both were,” Finn said, tramping across to the holly tree. “Too young for what might have happened if we had let nature take its course.”
“I know,” she admitted in a small voice.
“But I hurt you when we broke up. I’m sorry.” He held out a sprig of holly. “For what it’s worth, I hurt both of us by doing that.”
She nearly got lost in his gaze and only managed to look away because the prickle of holly penetrated her glove as she blindly reached out.
She shifted her grip to take it by the stem.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I would have had regrets if I hadn’t had a chance to find my independence.” It may not have felt like an opportunity at the time, but now she could see his pushing her away as the gift it had been. “You shouldn’t have any regrets for being the voice of reason.”
“Is that what I am?” His cheek ticked. “Then I should point out that I still don’t know where I’ll end up.” It sounded like a warning. He clipped another sprig, handed her the thorny bunch of leaves. “Even a friendship is hard to maintain when you’re a doctor. That’s why I quit dating. I was giving women abandonment issues. Doctors are supposed to be such a catch, but we’re actually workaholics with a truckload of debt.”
She felt abandoned right now and he was right here. Was this his way of telling her why they couldn’t pick up where they’d left off?
“Is that enough?” he asked, peering into the box. “I’m freezing.”
She nodded dumbly and they headed back into the house where Sarah met them inside the basement doors.
“Wendy woke up. She’s in the kitchen. I told her she’s not allowed to come down, but she said I should bring you some cocoa to warm up.” Sarah pointed to a pair of mugs wafting a heavenly aroma of chocolate and peppermint.
“Thank you,” Kristen said, cupping hers and letting the steam warm her nose.
Finn took a testing sip, made a noise of appreciation and drank deeper.
“You’ll burn your tongue,” Kristen warned.
“No, it’s cooled enough. It’s good.” He drank again. “Okay, Sarah, what’s the plan?”
“I’m not sure. I have to knit. And guard.” She set her knitting on one of the lower stairs and glanced up to make sure Wendy wasn’t peeking through the closed door. “What else is left in the decorations that we might be able to use?”
While Sarah pulled a few things from the boxes, Finn started at the bottom of the archway, attaching the cedar boughs with twist ties to create a base of fanned greenery.
Kristen crouched near him and began winding silver ribbon around what would become the front of the arch.
“Can we do this?” Sarah hung an ornament in the shape of a snowflake from a crosspiece. It settled flat against a cedar bough. “Pretty, right? There’s quite a few of them.”
“It’s a nice contrast,” Finn agreed.
“Are there any strings of lights we didn’t use? White ones?” Kristen asked.
Sarah found some. “What about these baby wreaths? Oh, bells! Like wedding bells. Right?”
“Perfect.” Kristen pinched the red bow on one to freshen its crease as she held the bell against the arch, trying to decide where it would look best.
“And mistletoe!” Sarah gave a little hop and tossed the plastic sprig so it landed on top of the arch. “Ha.
Now you two have to kiss.”
Finn was standing inside the arch, twisting a tie.
Kristen was right in front of him. She met his gaze. Told you, she conveyed, instantly turned inside out. There was a thread of sharp longing growing more piercing inside her. One that was all the sharper for their discussion outside.
Finn set a light hand on the side of her neck and leaned to kiss her forehead. It was almost brotherly, but there was a flash in his eyes that reminded her of that day on Hot Rocks.
Her heart soared at the touch of his lips to her skin, but she felt that same sense of yearning she’d felt then. Times a hundred million.
*
Finn carried the arbor to Kristen’s room when they finished. He didn’t linger, but couldn’t help smiling at the way she’d made the space her own. Her bed was made, but she had an afghan rumpled on the foot. He would bet his medical degree that it had been made by her mother. He’d seen dozens like it growing up.
Her laptop was open and sleeping on the desk. Her hoodie hung off the back of the chair. There was a scent in the air he detected over the pungent cedar boughs. It was the almonds and coconut that he smelled in her hair if he hugged her, along with something more subtle and feminine. Kristen.
Before he closed the closet door, he took a last glance at the archway, now bedecked with cedar and holly, fairy lights and snowflakes and bells, silver ribbon and red bows.
He was seeing Kristen’s expression in his mind’s eye, the one she’d worn when the mistletoe had landed above them. It had been the same outside, when he had reminded her of their long-ago kiss on a blistering summer day. So vulnerable, and yet…
He rubbed a hand over his scalp, easing the tingles rising there while an equally sharp stirring sensation accosted his chest. That long-ago day had been hot.