To Be Yours Read online

  She’d taken three steps by the time I realized she’d moved. I hurried to catch her, asking, “How old were you?”

  Her eyes slid over my face, looking at me but her gaze not sticking. “Ten.”

  “So your mom hadn’t met or married Terry yet.”

  “No.”

  I nodded, unsure if she’d want to talk about her family. From what Josh had told me, she couldn’t wait to leave this life and create a new one. We had that in common, at least.

  “What would your snow angel family look like now?”

  She lifted her hand as if wanting to answer a question in class. “Like that.”

  Her answer surprised me. Heck, the fact that she answered at all was shocking. “Which one are you?”

  “The one I made, I guess.”

  “Why that one?”

  She shrugged.

  “You wouldn’t be able to play soccer if you were that one.” Maybe soccer had never defined her. She was an exceptional player, but maybe she only worked hard at it so she could get an athletic scholarship and get out of town.

  “I love soccer because my dad did.”

  “You’re good at it.”

  “I like it.”

  Maybe she’d understand why I stayed on the baseball team. As soon as the idea entered my mind, I chased it out. I hadn’t earned any scholarships because of baseball. I’d have had to play longer than four minutes to do that. No, I’d studied my brains out and taken enough college classes to earn an associate’s degree concurrently with my high school diploma.

  My grades had gotten me into UNLV. And they were why I didn’t need my father’s fancy friends to go to college, which meant I could choose where I wanted to go.

  “My dad wasn’t happy with my choice of UNLV,” I said, a flash of embarrassment flowing through me at the fact that I’d spoken out loud. I didn’t normally tell anyone anything important. Certainly not Eden, who I wanted to see only the best of me.

  “No?” she asked. “Why not?”

  “He’d planned for me to go somewhere more important than Vegas.”

  “Like Stanford or Harvard.” She wasn’t asking.

  “Exactly.” I’d said too much, and I wanted to listen for the slightest sound of an avalanche, so I fell silent. Eden kept glancing around like God would flash a neon warning sign before unleashing the snow on us.

  My steps landed and landed and landed. We climbed and climbed and climbed. On one particularly steep part, I’d take a couple of steps and then reach down to help Eden. In hindsight, I wished I’d thought to bring our ski poles. We could’ve used them for stability in places like this.

  Up and up we went, and still the mountain seemed as tall as it ever had. Desperation didn’t sit well in my chest. I hadn’t had much experience with it, and I didn’t know how to make it dissolve, disappear, dissipate.

  “My dad wrote me a letter before he died,” Eden finally said.

  The air in my lungs seized, and I ended up coughing when I tried to take another breath. With the way my chest burned, it seemed like a good time to stop. “He did?”

  Eden nodded, her lips pressed together, her beautiful eyes slightly on the glassy side. “I…I read it a lot.”

  “I bet you do.”

  She glanced at me. “Do you think that’s normal?”

  “That you read your dad’s final words to you? Yes, Eden, I think it’s normal to read that letter a lot.”

  “I don’t need to read it.”

  I reached for her hand, slipping my gloved one into her mittened one. “You have it memorized.” This time I wasn’t asking.

  She squeezed my hand and took another step.

  Found on a scrap of paper on Eden’s desk:

  Sometimes life isn’t fair

  As I’m sure you know.

  I went out with a guy I liked,

  A soccer player who switched to baseball last year,

  But he was a jerk.

  I thought of you,

  As I often do,

  And I didn’t think you’d be proud of me

  Unless I abandoned dating completely.

  So I did.

  Will that make you proud, Dad?

  9

  Eden

  “So I spend all my time trying to make my dad proud,” I said. “And you spend all of yours trying to make yours notice you.”

  Grayson’s hand around mine gripped tighter. “I don’t want him to notice me.”

  “Okay.”

  “You don’t have to say it like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you don’t believe me.”

  I couldn’t get a decent breath, but I said, “I don’t really believe you,” anyway. The words sounded labored and airy. The fear of being buried under snow had hollowed me. Everything before me swam together into a sea of white. White, swirling snow. White, faceless horizon. I stepped and somehow my feet landed on something solid.

  “Has it worked for you?” he asked.

  “Has what worked?”

  “Have you made your dad proud by playing soccer?”

  I took the time to consider his question. It seemed like I examined everything I did, pondering on whether Dad would approve, if he’d be proud, if I was leaving the mark he’d hoped I would.

  The problem was, he’d died before I’d really known him. How well can a nine-year-old know their father? Josh constantly reminded me of this—that the version of my father that I held in my mind was different than who he actually was.

  So I studied the photo albums and re-read the letter, though I had it memorized, and dedicated myself exclusively to becoming the best soccer player I could be.

  “I think you’ve made him proud,” Grayson said when I remained silent for too long. “My dad wanted me to play baseball because he loves it. But he never came to a game, even when I was in Little League and actually stood in the outfield for half an inning.”

  “Why don’t you have a position?”

  “I’m not very good. I’m too big to really run the bases. I’m a little too aggressive when I throw. But I can really hit. Without that—and probably my dad’s money—I would’ve never made the team.” He swallowed audibly and I tore my gaze from the snow in front of me to watch him. Half a dozen emotions raced across his face, but the loudest one was humiliation. “Students don’t come to watch baseball games. I’ve managed to make it through by hitting a home run every three or four games.”

  All the rough edges inside me smoothed as he forced himself to swallow again. I wanted to make the hard things in his life easier. Why did I want to make the hard things in his life easier?

  “You work out,” I said, my voice hardly sounding like my own. “You’re definitely an athlete.”

  “Eden Scotson, is that a compliment?” He chuckled, turning the somber atmosphere into something lighter. The weather didn’t get the memo though, because the flakes got fatter. I wished they’d stop already. Every flake added more weight to the snow already on the ground. More snow meant an increased possibility of that blasted avalanche.

  “You have a lot of good qualities,” I said.

  “You think I’m hot?”

  I nudged him with my shoulder, my hand still tucked into his. “I didn’t say that.” But since I was holding the guy’s hand, I added, “I think your already good looks are enhanced by…other things.”

  “What other things?”

  “Your grades.”

  “And?”

  “Are you just fishing for compliments?” I withdrew my hand from his. “That’s not very attractive.”

  He laughed, the sound reverberating through the fog around us. “At least I’m smart and good-looking.”

  I made sure he was watching at me before I rolled my eyes. “Time to talk about something else.”

  “All right.”

  I inhaled, trying to get my lungs to expand more fully, trying to find a spot of air that didn’t contain the scent of Grayson, trying to calm my racing pulse. “Remember th
at time we snuck into the movie theater?”

  Even though Mother Nature had somehow decided to ruin our four-day weekend, Grayson tossed a chuckle into her wind and wails and wild weather. “I remember you wouldn’t sit down.”

  “It looked like someone had thrown up on those chairs.”

  “And they weren’t even bolted to the ground.”

  I let my mind wander back to happier times. More carefree days, when I was twelve and my mother hadn’t met Terry yet. We hadn’t moved from our house that bordered the ice skating rink. Grayson hadn’t muscled into more of a man, and Josh hadn’t started talking about leaving me behind to go to college.

  “I also remember you ordered three scoops of ice cream at the creamery after we escaped from Willis,” he said.

  I shivered at the mention of the Sherriff. “He knew it was us. He looked at me funny after that, like I would run over and confess that we were the ones who’d robbed the corner store that summer.”

  “Me too.” Grayson’s hand brushed mine and with the next step we took, he claimed my fingers again. My hands remained cold though I wore the mittens, but now I wanted to take them off, peel back his gloves, so my skin could touch his.

  “I’d never seen anyone get three different scoops of ice cream before.”

  “Oreo,” I said. “Pistachio, and Almond Joy.” I smiled, my teeth aching immediately from the chill. “It was delicious.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Oh, come on. I’ve seen you chow down entire bowls of pistachio ice cream since then.”

  He lifted his head, which had been bent against the weather, slightly. “You have, huh?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Every year at your birthday party.”

  “You mean the party Josh throws for me.”

  I blinked, not sure what he really meant to say behind those words. “I guess.”

  “He throws me a party every year at your house.”

  “Yeah.” I wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “Me, you, and him.” I looked forward to it every November, and this past party had been the best one for me. Sierra had moved over the summer, and Aaron had been the Jerkiest Jerk Ever, and I’d been drifting in the sea of students at Ivy Hall. I didn’t really have anyone else to hang out with, though I knew girls on the soccer team, and almost everyone else shouldering backpacks and walking the halls of the high school. Collinworth didn’t have a lot of turnover, after all.

  I’d always had Josh, though, and with him came Grayson. With a jolt as hot as lightning, I realized that I could probably have the same close relationship with Grayson that I had with Josh. I could probably trust him with all my thoughts, my secrets, my ambitions.

  And I could kiss him.

  My lips tingled, and I pressed them together, the traitorous things.

  I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about kissing Grayson. He was that solid eight on the attractiveness scale, and he’d been hanging around my house for years. There had been times over the past few years where I’d thought about him as more than a friend. Nights I’d lain awake in bed, wondering if he’d ever see me as more than his best friend’s kid sister. Birthday parties where I watched him and Josh, trying to gauge if Josh would care if I held Grayson’s hand and invited him to our House of Horrors to just hang out with me.

  “There’s a party at my house too,” he said.

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “I never invited you.”

  “Thanks.”

  He stepped in front of me and stopped, blocking the way. “Have you noticed I never have you and Josh over to my house?”

  “You don’t even invite Josh to your big birthday bashes?”

  Grayson’s eyes flitted to my mouth and back to my eyes. I felt exposed beneath his gaze, yet entirely unable to look away. “He comes.”

  “So I’m just excluded.” I didn’t understand why my voice sounded like I’d been sliced open and needed an ambulance, stat.

  “I don’t want you around my other friends.” He leaned a little closer, his breath brushing my forehead. Wild thoughts tore through my mind. Wild thoughts like stretching up on my toes—no matter that my bones would probably snap inside those unyielding ski boots—and kissing him.

  “Why not?” I whispered.

  He smiled an easy, sexy smile that liquefied my insides. “Because I’ve always wanted you all to myself.”

  I swear the mountain trembled again, and I reached for Grayson, panic pulling my pulse to pounding.

  Lines Grayson Young had used on girls:

  10

  Grayson

  Eden gripped my forearm, her eyes wide, as the tiny tremor subsided. We really needed to get off this mountain—get everyone to the top and to safety—but I couldn’t look away from her. Her furious fear eventually settled into mild anxiety.

  “Nice line.” Eden rolled her eyes and made to go around me. I let her, because shock had rendered my feet frozen to the snow.

  “You don’t believe me?” I turned and watched her lift her right foot and jam the toe into the snow. She repeated the process with her left boot.

  Right, left.

  Right, left.

  “No,” she said over her shoulder.

  I’d never understood her. Other girls seemed to like me without me having to do anything. Maybe that was why I liked Eden so much—I had to work for her approval. Or she actually thought about me as a person instead of someone who just looked good on her arm.

  “Why not?” I hurried to catch up to her.

  “Because.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “I don’t know the answer.” She kept her eyes trained on the ground, the fresh snow making it increasingly difficult to walk. I felt like I was walking through loose sand, but wearing ski boots. Not exactly easy.

  “I don’t lie to you,” I said.

  “Just to everyone else.”

  A pinch started in my chest and radiated out to all my limbs. “I…”

  “Put on a show,” she supplied.

  “So do you.”

  “So does everyone.”

  “So why are you giving me a hard time about it?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Eden.”

  “Grayson.”

  I exhaled, bottling my words and capping them with frustration, the same way I did with my parents. I never told them anything but what they wanted to hear. I could do it with Eden too.

  Except I didn’t want to. Nerves bit at my stomach as we continued in silence. I grew more and more weary with every step, and not just physically. “Let’s rest,” I said.

  Eden stalled instantly, and when she looked at me, I found the exhaustion in every line of her face.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m hungry,” she admitted. “What time is it?” She looked up into the sky, but there was only cloud soup up there. No way to even see the sun—or the tops of some of the trees.

  I pulled out my phone. “Just about noon.”

  “What time did we leave?”

  “Maybe ten? I don’t know.”

  She looked back up the mountain and then sat down at my feet. “Fifteen minutes,” she said. “We have to keep going.”

  “When we don’t come back for lunch, Melissa will know something’s up.”

  She nodded, a tiny frown pinching between her eyebrows. “Why don’t they already know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Wouldn’t it be on the news? Posted all over the ski resort?”

  I sat down beside her and lifted my pant leg to release the clasp on my boot. The pressure around my calf disbanded and I sighed in relief, even if it would only last for fifteen minutes. “I don’t know. Lucas is probably playing video games, not watching the news.”

  “And Josh is probably asleep,” she said.

  “Melissa likes to cook with music on,” I said. “But probably not the radio. We don’t get great local service up here, so we have an Intern
et radio connection.”

  “At least the Internet hasn’t gone down,” she said dryly. “We can put this adventure on Facebook later and get so many likes.”

  I smiled, my mouth speaking before I could silence the words. “I like you, Eden.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “We’ve been friends since forever.”

  I nodded when I really wanted to shake my head. Before I could figure out what to do, she slid across the foot between us and laid her head on my shoulder. “I like you too, Grayson. I’ll miss you when you go to UNLV.”

  The shape of her next to me felt perfect, like she’d finally figured out where she belonged. Like I’d finally figured out how to get her there. Neither was true, but I adjusted my arm so it hung over her knee and pressed my palm to hers again.

  Right now, right here on this mountain, I could pretend she was mine.

  The part of Eden’s letter about boys:

  Be smart when it comes to boys, Eden. You were always a cautious child, and I don’t anticipate that changing, but sometimes a teenager’s brain falls out of their head for a few years. Don’t let yours waste away under your bed.

  And that’s all I’m going to say about boys. Okay, maybe one more thing. They’re gross, and they smell, and my no-dating-until-you’re-twenty-five rule will be in effect even though I’ll be gone.

  11

  Eden

  I dozed off at some point, because Grayson’s soft plea for me to wake up startled me. I jerked my head off his arm, my vision blurry even after several blinks.

  “Sorry,” Grayson said. “But we really need to get going again.”

  I groaned as he stood and extended his hand to me. He helped me stand, and my legs wobbled. I clung to him, heat and humiliation humming through me simultaneously.