“What do you call… a snowman… with a cup of coffee?” he read each one carefully, and then watched as I slid the final cookie toward him. He examined the single word I’d written there.
“Melted,” I read out loud, in case he couldn’t tell from my writing.
His lips twitched the same way they had when he was pretending to be unconscious in the snow. Then he chuckled.
“Snowmen can’t drink coffee, silly,” Alice informed us both, and the twitch became a smile.
“Your uncle Kai is very silly,” Bailey murmured.
“Uncle Kai is still the best uncle though,” I deadpanned.
I moved on to another three snowmen and wrote the next message, sliding both cookies Bailey’s way.
“What do you call… an idiot who messed up?” Bailey read each message and frowned at me over Alice’s bent head. I know he’d been expecting a snowman joke, but this was a little more serious.
“Kai,” I said, and slid a final cookie over. It not only said Kai, but there was a sad emoji face, and I made it look as if the snowman was sad. I also added sorry, just in case he didn’t get what I was trying to do. “Kai is the idiot who messed up.”
“What did you mess up?” Alice asked in all innocence, her lips covered in glittery sugar powder.
Bailey stared at me. I met his gaze steadily, and so much emotion flooded between us that it was hard to talk. Where did I start? Choosing hockey over family was messed up. Choosing hockey over coming home, way past messed up. Waiting until now to confess I knew Bailey’s wish, totally messed up.
But quietly falling for Bailey over what seemed like an entire lifetime, then shoving him away in July… that was the messed-up king of mess-ups.
“Everything, Alice. Just… everything.”
Chapter Twelve
BAILEY
So, the snowmen were cute, but that still didn’t clear all the nagging doubts and flush of anger at all the small things that had gotten me here. Kai seeking me out at family events over the years, listening to me talk about jewelry, encouraging me—was that because of what I’d written? Kai showing a hundred kindnesses, taking my side in brotherly battles, defending me when my brothers overstepped, messaging me with stupid stories from the team, was all of that because of my wish? Was he just being nice to me? All this time I’d thought he was a friend, but had he been playing me? That was the part that hurt.
It sure seemed that way when I’d tried to help in the summer.
“Let me help you.” That was all I’d said, secure in our friendship, and then I’d told him to breathe, and he’d pushed me aside as if I were nothing. I didn’t matter to him at all in that moment, and now I knew why.
Was every piece of the friendship he’d given me a lie?
In the end, I did what I do best, I retreated. I didn’t talk to Kai, or look at Kai, or even think about him, because in my splendid isolation, I could stay safe. Of course, it didn’t work for long, and I focused on cookies, and lights, and a freaking happy Christmas, and not how close he was to me.
With all the cookies decorated, we’d gone into the den where he was chatting to the boys about hockey, Alice curled up next to him with her head on his arm, Emma at his knee listening with rapt attention about five-on-fours and pinching maneuvers. It was such a lovely picture that I pulled out my phone and took a couple of videos, then examined them carefully.
Charlie and Mitchell were so focused that I could even see Charlie’s hand moving as Kai explained a particular maneuver that would get them out of corners. Emma was getting tired, her eyelids heavy, ready for bed when Mom came home; and as for Alice, I could see her eyes were shut and she was away and dreaming, leaning on Kai. Then I focused in on Kai’s face. His expression was easy, and excited, confident as he talked hockey, and maybe I could forgive him for picking up the card. Did he do it so he could keep a secret over me? He’d never used it against me, he’d never once mentioned the card, or the love, or even that stupid throwaway comment I’d made to him about the silk.
He’d been a fierce defender of mine when my brothers had pushed things too far as kids. He’d always had my back. As I stared at the video, I felt some of the anger subside, and in its place was a curiosity to know why he’d done it as I fought my instinct to curl up on the other side of him and listen to him talk.
Duncan and Callum arrived at around the same time to pick up their respective kids, and after one last check of the lights, I went into the kitchen to tidy up, trying not to think how nice it would be to just go home and carry on thinking deep thoughts about what Kai was doing.
“How about coffee?” he asked hopefully as he picked up a dish cloth to dry.
“It’s eight o’clock,” I said as if that explained everything.
“Then a hot chocolate.”
“I have to walk the parade route.” I busied myself with emptying the dishwasher and cleaning surfaces, in fact, anything I could to avoid looking at Kai.
“I’ll come with you.”
“I don’t know exactly when I’m going,” I pointed out.
“Then I’ll wait.” He leaned on the counter and watched me clean things that didn’t need cleaning. As I wiped and scrubbed, I built up a full head of steam, at the injustices of the world and how Kai wouldn’t leave me alone. I was on my second run over the stove when he placed his hand over mine. I hadn’t even heard him move, let alone get close enough to touch me.
“I think it’s clean.” He tugged at the cloth, and for a second, I held tight, and we had a mini tussle over it, until it hit me that this was stupid. I let go of it, perversely happy when he stumbled back, and then guilty when he winced.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” I asked, because however much of an asshole he was, he was still injured.
“Yeah,” he murmured and cradled his hand.
Oh god, I’d yanked on his bad wrist? Wait, he was cradling his left hand, and I thought it was his right hand that he’d hurt? I glanced up at him to see him smiling, and he immediately held out his wrist.
“I think you should kiss it better,” he said in all seriousness.
I gave him a raised eyebrow and reached for the cloth. He beat me to it, placing it firmly in the container by the sink and nodding to himself as he concentrated on getting it to sit just so.
“So, it’s a no to the hand-kissing,” he said mournfully. “I can live with that. But when are you doing the walk-through? Are you having dinner? Hey, how about we go to BB’s?”
Hell to the no.
Biscuit in the Basket was a shrine to all things Kai Buchanan, with Kai’s table and an entire wall of photos from his games. Not to mention the name of the place was hockey slang for getting the puck in the net. He would have a ton of people recognizing him, townspeople, and visitors both. For all intents and purposes, Kai was still a town celebrity—Wishing Tree’s shining star. Hell, even the library had a small display cabinet dedicated to his successes, that one year the Harriers had won the Stanley Cup, the next where he’d won some charity award, or the year he’d been an All-Star. The town of Wishing Tree loved their hero.
“So your fans can ask for selfies and autographs? I’m not going to be trampled in the rush to get to you.” Ouch, that wasn’t like me to be unnecessarily sarcastic, and I kicked myself when his smile dropped, but it seemed that it wasn’t because of what I said, but because it hadn’t occurred to him.