I cut the engine, but make no move to get out of the truck. As soon as we head inside, my family will swarm us. From the looks of it, they are all home. My brothers’ truck is here, right alongside my mom’s sedan. Her old station wagon is here, too, because even though she drives the new car I got her last year, she can’t bear to get rid of the car she drove us around in as kids. Cassandra is likely pouring over paperwork in the ranch office as usual.
I don’t want Candice subject to their questions when she’s this vulnerable. She looks so small and pale, completely unlike the force of nature I’m used to.
“Candice,” I say, as gently as possible. “My family will be inside, and they can be a lot. They will probably try to get your life story out of you and I know you might not be feeling up to it so?—”
“It’s how my parents died,” she says, cutting me off. “In case you were wondering why I freak out over driving in the snow.That’s how they died. The driver of the other car died too, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was icy out and there was snow coming down and they just…they died.”
The words chill me. No wonder she panicked. No wonder she called Beau to tell him she was okay—I bet he gets anxious every time she drives in the snow. I bet she stays up for hours waiting for him to get home.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know. Beau never told me and I didn’t ask him. It felt too personal.”
“He’s not a talker.” She forces a smile.
She isn’t either, really, but I don’t mention it. After all, she told me this without me asking. She’s offering pieces of herself to me and I’d be stupid not to take them. Not to hold them close and protect them.
“I hardly ever drive by myself,” she says. “It sucks because it means I’m at the barn basically all the time but I just...I always think about them when I drive alone and it makes me scared.” Her voice is small, and she’s no longer looking at me, and is instead picking at the hem of her sweater. “I wasn’t old enough to really understand what happened when they died, and I don’t miss them the way Beau does. But I do have this fear. So in a way, I don’t mind it.”
Understanding rushes through me and cleaves my chest in two. “Because the fear that you have keeps you connected to them,” I say.
“Exactly. Without it, I’m just a lonely girl who doesn’t remember her parents.”
I wince. “I’m sorry I ever said that you were lonely.”
“Don’t be,” she says, a fierce tone entering her voice. “It was true.”
“I’m still sorry,” I tell her, pulling her hand into my lap. It’s ice cold, and I rub it between mine, hoping to chafe somewarmth into it. “You are a brilliant ray of sunshine, Candice. And as formidable as a mountain.”
“Thanks, Nathan.” She smiles at me, and I notice that her face has some color in it again. “And thanks for bringing me here.”
“You won’t be thanking me after you meet them,” I joke. “Should we go inside?”
She nods, and we hop out of the truck and walk towards the house together, our boots tracking a path through the newly fallen snow. Candice slips her hand into mine and squeezes my fingers.
23
CANDICE
TellingNathan about my parents doesn’t feel strange. Normally, I do whatever I can to avoid talking about it and I especially dislike discussing how they died. It brings the jagged edges of my grief closer to the surface, and I always get afraid that people will see them poke through. But telling Nathan about them almost feels…right. Like it’s information he can be trusted to handle.
And standing in front of his family’s front door together also feels oddly fine. Normal, almost. Like he’s no longer my enemy, but has instead become a friend.
A friend who is also teaching me how to have mind blowing sex.
I’m saved from meditating on that thought any further by the door swinging open, and a tall woman with hair the same color as Nathan’s greeting us.
“Did I know you were coming?” she asks, crossing her arms.
“No, Cassandra, you didn’t. You can pretend you’re happy to see me, though.”
Cassandra, who must be his older sister, pulls him in for a hug, and then steps out of the way so we can come inside. Thehouse is warm and snug, with pine plank walls and throw rugs everywhere.
“This is Candice Wilson,” Nathan says. “Beau’s sister. We were delivering a horse and by the time we got to driving back, the snow had started. We’ll be staying the night, or until the roads are passable again.”
“Sure, of course. Cam and Riley are here, too.”
We follow Cassandra into the kitchen, where an older woman in a floral apron is spooning batter into a pan.
“Hey Ma,” Nathan calls.
