Him (Him #1)(52)

For a moment, my mind goes straight into the gutter, because Lake Placid means something a little different to me this summer than it ever has before. But I clobber that thought and hold out a hand for her. “How do you feel about waffle cones?”

She closes her fingers around mine. “I feel pretty good about waffle cones.”



* * *



We spend the afternoon together walking all over town. Holly likes to poke around in the little touristy shops, and this gets old pretty fast. But since I’ve ruined her day once already, I just go along with it. I show her the toy store with the awesome rubber band guns, and she buys one for her brother. They have targets set up inside the store, so we stand there for a long time trying to outshoot each other.

A few doors down there’s another kitschy shop, and I hold back my sigh when she leads me inside. She stops to look at a bunch of Miracle on Ice coffee mugs, while I wander over to the back aisle where they have a bunch of candy for sale in bulk. And when I take a closer look, I let out a bark of disbelief.

“What is it?” Holly asks.

“Purple Skittles!” I grab a bag and hold it under the chute. “Pull the lever,” I tell Holly. She does, and I don’t say “stop” until the bag is full. Then I chuckle all the way to the checkout counter.

“What’s so funny?”

I toss my wallet onto the counter. “I have this friend,” I begin. I feel like a heel describing Wes that way, but it’s the best I can do at the moment. “We used to send this box back and forth with, like, gag gifts inside.”

“That’s fun. And he likes purple Skittles?”

“Yeah. Except the last time I sent him purple Skittles in the box, you had to buy all the colors at once. I bought four giant bags at BJ’s…” Holy God, the name of the store causes an inappropriate bubble of laughter to rise in my chest. “I sorted them myself and sent him only the purple ones. Then I shared, like, five pounds of the other ones with my high school buddies at a party. It was a kegger, and when they did the Technicolor yawn, it was really Technicolor.”

She hip-checks me. “Thanks for that visual.”

“My pleasure.”

When we step outside, she clears her throat. “Jamie, I need to find a place to stay tonight. Can we sit down somewhere so I can use my phone?”

I don’t answer right away, because I’m wracking my brain for a solution. Which doesn’t come easy, because the dormitory is always plenty full. “Let me find you a hotel room,” I suggest.

“I’ve got it,” she says quickly. “Seriously. It’s no big deal.”

Still. “Let’s sit on the porch at the dorm. You can use the wi-fi. And if everything is booked up, I’ll ask Pat for help.”

“Thank you.” Her voice is low.

Another apology is on the tip of my tongue. But I don’t say it, because I don’t think she wants to hear it.

There’s nobody in the rocking chairs, so I set Holly up with the wi-fi password and tell her I’m going to get us a couple of drinks. “I’ll be right back,” I promise. Then I shoot up the stairs and drop by our room, hoping that Wes is there.

The room is empty.

Before I leave again, I dig out that gift box Wes had sent me in Boston. I’d brought it all the way to Lake Placid, because I was trying to decide whether I should restart our meme. But then he showed up here, and I forgot about it entirely.

Now I dump a motherlode of purple candy into the box and close the cover. Setting it on his pillow, I wonder if I should leave some kind of note. But what the hell would it say?

Before Holly showed up, it didn’t seem to matter that Wes and I were hooking up without any sort of discussion about it. We didn’t need a label. This room was like our private bubble—everything that happened here was just between us. The rest of the world didn’t matter.

And that was fine. Except the rest of the world still exists, whether I remember it or not. Suddenly this whole thing has gotten all kinds of tricky, and not because of Holly—that was just an awkward moment with a friend. In a few short weeks, though, he and I would land on two different NHL teams in two different cities. We were heading for an upset regardless, and I just hadn’t realized it.

Hurrying back downstairs, I grab two sodas and take them to the porch where my ex-f*ck-buddy waits. “I found a place just outside of town,” she says. “It wasn’t even expensive.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to—”

She holds up a hand, silencing me. “It’s fine, sweetie. And in the morning I’m going to drive back to Massachusetts, okay?”

“We could—”

Holly shakes her head. “You have a job to do. And it’s not your fault, Jamie. I didn’t… I wasn’t being smart.” The words are firm, but her eyes water a little, and it kills me to see it.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I do care about you but…”

Once more she waves me off. “You were never dishonest, Jamie. Don’t start now.”

Well okay then.



* * *



We go out to dinner together. I pick a nice seafood restaurant right on the water, but as we eat our crabcakes, the mood is subdued.

“Will you tell me about her?” she asks at one point.