Sasha held out her hand as a small, nearly translucent flake of snow drifted down, just inches from her nose. It landed in the center of her glove and melted instantly. Another snowflake landed on the tip of her thumb, a little bigger than the first. By the time the third flake had melted into her glove, she was surrounded by whirling snow.
Everything was quieting already. The occasional snatch of conversation from the truck stop behind her seemed further away. The hiss of overpass traffic softened to a hush.
A cold bench in a small dog park behind a truck stop wasn’t exactly the wild, empty places of her childhood, but it was better than sitting in the drab, stuffy bus terminal up the street. The park itself was mostly deserted apart from the occasional curious squirrel, so at least she didn’t have to talk to anyone while she waited for the next bus to New York.
Holly had given Sasha a ride to the bus terminal in her vintage Mustang, refusing to take payment for the favor. She’d only grunted with a pleased sort of frown when Sasha thanked her. Unfortunately, when she walked into the bus terminal, Sasha found out her options for getting home weren’t extensive. She’d missed the flurry of buses that left for Philadelphia and New York City in the early morning, and there hadn’t been anything else heading east until almost three in the afternoon. Which would at least get her home sometime today, even if it wouldn’t be until late.
With a few hours to kill before she could leave, she’d walked up the street to the truck stop to grab some lunch and a few snacks, plus a charger for her phone, a crossword book, and the two least romantic paperbacks she could find.
The plan had been to head back to the bus station to find an outlet and revive her phone. But she didn’t want to deal with whatever notifications were waiting for her there. And the bite of wind across her face had been more enticing than the idea of shutting herself into the well-heated terminal. Eventually she’d have to grit her teeth and field whatever pushback her refusal to handle her mom anymore initiated in the rest of the family. But it didn’t have to be right now. It didn’t have to be today.
A thin layer of snow was forming on the bench around her. She should head back. The sun had granted feeble warmth for the last hour or so, but the temperature was dropping rapidly as clouds rolled in. And she really should try to find a place to charge her phone, even if she couldn’t bring herself to turn it on just yet.
Taking in a breath of chilly, damp air, she put away the unread thriller she’d been leafing through and stood, slinging her duffel bag over one shoulder and her backpack over the other. She walked slowly, watching lacy patches of snow decorate the weedy, brown grass beside the road.
There was a drive-through and another gas station across the street, and what looked like a storage facility beyond those. A few hundred yards the other way, empty lots turned into farmland and rolling hills. Somewhere beyond those was the Manhattan skyline. And Sasha’s cramped, friendly dorm. And Kinsey, just two floors down . . .
Sasha wondered if any of the notifications waiting for her were from Kinsey. It didn’t seem likely. Not after what happened between them last night. Kinsey probably hadn’t even realized she was gone.
Which was probably good. Sasha still wasn’t sure how to explain why she’d flipped out in a way that made sense, but it seemed like it would be easier to do if no one had noticed she was missing yet.
Her hair was damp and her ears and nose were freezing by the time she reached the bus terminal’s parking lot. Snow was falling thick enough to start building up in earnest, settling in a white layer over the small cluster of cars parked out front.
On all but one of them. A black sedan that looked chest-tighteningly familiar was parked crookedly a couple rows back. The snow hitting the roof and hood was still melting when it touched the surface.
Sasha came to a halt on the sidewalk. Her duffel bag fell from her shoulder. It couldn’t be Kinsey’s car. How could it be her car? It might have the same scratch in the left headlight, and the same parking sticker in the window—and even the same pompom-and-felt peach charm hanging from the rearview mirror—but it couldn’t be her car. It was impossible. Even if Kinsey had realized Sasha was gone, even if she’d somehow figured out where she was, there was no reason for her to—
“Hey!” The word cut through the whispery snow, sharp and tough. Sasha knew that voice even before she laid eyes on the speaker.
Her heart caught in her throat. Kinsey couldn’t be here. Yet there she was, bursting out of the swinging glass doors of the terminal, a breeze sweeping her feathery black hair off her scowling, beautiful face.
“The least you could do when you cut and run is stay in one place,” Kinsey said as she stalked up the sidewalk, eyes flashing. “How the hell is anyone supposed to find you if you can’t stay fucking put?”
Maybe she should have been concerned about the hard look on Kinsey’s face, but Sasha was too preoccupied with processing her sudden appearance to take in anything else. “Kinsey?” she breathed. “What . . . How did you . . .” She had no idea where to start, or what to say. All she wanted to do was gather Kinsey up and hold onto her, to press her face into that soft, dark hair and breathe her in, to find Kinsey’s mouth with her own and persuade her to give them another chance . . .
She had just enough reason left to understand what a bad idea that was, and started to take a step back so she wouldn’t try it anyway—
Kinsey’s hand darted out and closed around Sasha’s palm, tight as a vice. “Don’t you dare,” she said, voice rough, eyes pleading as they bored into Sasha’s. “Don’t you dare tell me it’s too late, Sasha Deforest. Not after I came all the way out here to bring you home.”
“Kins,” Sasha whispered in a voice like cracked earth. She gripped Kinsey’s fingers despite herself, despite wanting to conceal the aching, empty need that wanted to latch onto that offhand promise of home and never, never let go. “I don’t—I don’t understand. After I flipped out at you . . .”
“You thought I’d just let you run out the back door thinking no one cared enough to come after you?”
Sasha didn’t know how to respond to the careful stubbornness she saw in Kinsey’s eyes. She dropped her gaze to their interlocked hands, guilt compressing her chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to worry anybody. I just couldn’t . . . I guess I had this idea in my head that I could keep all the crap with my mom away from the good parts of my life. And if I kept them separate, the bad parts wouldn’t have a chance to wrap around the good things I had and kill them. I . . .”
Sasha blew out a shivery breath, trying to work out how to explain it. She’d expended so much energy trying to avoid talking about her issues with her mom. She wasn’t really sure how to distill the multitude of little blows into a few comprehensible sentences.
“You have to understand,” she said slowly. “Growing up with my mom, I couldn’t really say how I felt about anything without it turning into a battle. It was always easier to pretend I didn’t care. Make everyone believe nothing really bothered me. That way I could tell myself it didn’t hurt when things didn’t pan out the way I hoped. It made me feel like I had some kind of control over my life. I couldn’t do anything about my mom’s mood swings or whatever disaster her decisions had created, but I could control how I reacted. And I guess I’ve just been digging myself deeper into the sarcasm reflex ever since.
“But I can’t do that with you,” she said, tentatively lifting her gaze to meet Kinsey’s. “You have this way of . . . of finding the weak spots in my defenses and getting through.”
“I’m sorry,” Kinsey whispered.
“No,” Sasha said quickly, pressing Kinsey’s fingers. “No, it’s—It’s—” She took a deep breath, searching the falling snow for a way to explain this. “I’ve been so careful for so long. I had all these rules and defenses set up in my head so I’d be safe from getting hurt again. And then you showed up in my living room last year and turned me upside down. In the best possible way. And it got harder and harder to remember why I had to be so careful. Because I don’t want to keep you out, Kins. I want to talk to you about stuff, even if it’s hard. I want you to see me. But I’m also . . . I’m scared you’ll take a look around, realize what a mess I am, and walk out forever. And I can’t . . . I’ve never . . . I’ve never cared about anybody as much as I care about you. And that scares me so much. Because I can’t tell myself it wouldn’t hurt to lose you. And I don’t know how to convince you I’m not too screwed up to deal with. Especially after . . . after last night.”
Kinsey searched her eyes, an indefinable softness in her expression. Slowly, she reached up and brushed her thumb across Sasha’s cheek. “You know what I see when I look at you?”
Sasha shook her head, throat too tight to answer.
“I see a courageous, talented woman with the biggest heart and the most joyful laugh I’ve ever encountered. Ever. And that’s something you held onto despite anything that might have happened to you before I met you. Anyone who sees that and wants to walk away can go fuck themselves.”
Sasha let out a pained breath, leaning her forehead against Kinsey’s. “Kins,” she breathed. She wished she had words for the emotions squeezing her heart—the lingering fear, the yearning hope, the mingled affection and regret.
“It was stupid of me to ask you to meet me halfway,” Kinsey said. “You’ve always met me exactly where I was, no matter what I was going through. I couldn’t even give you a minute to breathe. And don’t you dare try to make excuses for me,” she added when Sasha opened her mouth to do exactly that. “We wouldn’t have fought if I hadn’t pushed you to open up before you were ready. You wouldn’t have left if I hadn’t made it sound like I didn’t even want to be with you. I do want to be with you. I like when you flirt with me. I like just talking to you. I like you. Scars and late-night family crises and all.”
“Kins—”
“I know I’m a cranky, sharp person,” Kinsey interrupted. “And I’m not going to claim I know what it’s like to grow up in a bad family situation like you did. But I . . .”
She took her fingers from Sasha’s to cup her face in both hands and look her in the eyes. Her frown wasn’t angry so much as . . . vulnerable. “It matters to me whether you’re around or not. It matters a lot. I can’t imagine going through the rest of my life without even being able to call you. Without being able to make you laugh. Without having you around to—to swap soup with and goof off with and sit on the floor sharing a tub of ice cream with. You make me so happy, Sasha. Just having you in my life makes it so much better. I just want a chance to try to make you happy, too.”
Sasha’s hand drifted absently to Kinsey’s waist. Though the snow was falling fast and thick around them, the space between them felt protected and warm. “But you do make me happy, Kins.”
Kinsey’s frown turned suspicious. “What, you enjoy being scowled at now?”
A soft smile tugged at Sasha’s mouth. “Maybe. It’s kind of . . . peaceful, when it’s coming from you.”
“Peaceful?”
“Yeah. Or . . . reassuring, I guess? You’ve got this one particular scowl that means you believe so hard in what you’re saying, you’d fight anyone who tries to argue. And when you frown like that and tell me things like . . . Like when you said I mattered and you cared about me . . . I knew you meant that.”
“That’s still true, Sasha.” Whether it was a conscious choice or not, Sasha didn’t know, but Kinsey’s expression shifted to the exact scowl she’d been trying to describe. “And I’ll keep on repeating it as long as you need me to, because it’s not going to change. I like you. I care about you. And you matter. You matter. Always and incontrovertibly.”
Sasha swallowed, pressing her eyes shut, her fingers lightly, lightly beckoning Kinsey closer with the barest pressure against her side. She felt the warmth of Kinsey’s breath against her face as she came to her, wrapping her in a sure embrace.
Sasha’s arms went around Kinsey’s waist, wanting to hang on with all she had, still scared to hang on too tight.
“It might take some work before I get good at the being-genuine thing,” she muttered into Kinsey’s neck. “Or even get mediocre at it. And I don’t blame you for getting frustrated that I wouldn’t talk about what was going on with my mom last night. If you don’t want to be around me until I figure myself out, then I get it. I know I’m a mess.”
“No, you’re not,” Kinsey said softly.
Sasha made a sound that was supposed to be a laugh but didn’t quite make it. “I’m pretty sure I am,” she said, forcing herself to let Kinsey go. Kinsey slipped her hands into Sasha’s as she stepped back, her grip firm, as though she was worried Sasha would bolt if she severed contact.
“I—I pretty much decided to cut my mom off,” Sasha confessed, her gaze on the top button of Kinsey’s blouse. She deserved to know that much, at least. Even if it meant another argument, even if Sasha couldn’t make her understand why it needed to be done. “And I’m not really sure how the rest of the family is going to take it. My phone’s been dead since I told my grandmother I wasn’t going to deal with my mom anymore.”
“You do realize that them being dicks doesn’t make you a mess, right?” Kinsey asked.
Sasha blinked at her. “It doesn’t bother you?”
“What doesn’t bother me? Your family putting you in a position where you think they’re all going to turn on you the second you stand up for yourself? Yeah, Sasha, that bothers the hell out of me. Your mom’s problems should have never been on you to fix.”
“No, not—I just . . . I thought . . .” She searched Kinsey’s eyes for the censure she was so sure had to be there. For some hint that she thought Sasha was making a bad decision. But apart from a hint of vengefulness that was probably directed at Sasha’s family, Kinsey mainly seemed confused. “It wouldn’t bother you to be with someone whose junkie, alcoholic mom is in jail for armed robbery? And whose family might not want to talk to her anymore because it was supposed to be her job to take care of that kind of thing?”
“No,” Kinsey said simply. “That’s bullshit. I don’t care who or what your mom is. I don’t care if the rest of your family are idiots. I only care about who you are. And in case you forgot again, I like you.”
“Really?”
“Hell, yes, Sasha. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Plus, you can always share my family. I know it’s not the same, but there’s more than enough support and love to go around. My parents already adore you. They actually seemed disappointed when I had to break it to them we weren’t secretly engaged.”
Sasha’s eyebrows lifted. Maybe some snow had gotten in her ears, because what Kinsey said couldn’t have been what Sasha heard. “I’m sorry, secretly what?”
Kinsey’s cheeks, which were already flushed from the damp cold, went a few shades darker. “Oh. Um.” She cleared her throat and tried—failing spectacularly—to seem nonchalant. “I sort of told them about . . . us. They were utterly unsurprised because they thought we’d been dating for months already.”
“They—They did? Why?”
“I don’t know,” Kinsey said with a flustered shrug, taking her hands from Sasha’s. “Something about how I never stop talking about you and apparently I light up in a very specific way when you walk in the room and I guess you’re only allowed to watch soccer now if you’re head over heels for one of the players—”
“H—head over—”
“I hope it was okay that I brought it up with them,” Kinsey said, her forehead crinkling as she crossed her arms. “We never talked about what we were telling people. If you’d rather they didn’t know we're together yet, I can—I can try bullying them into pretending they don’t, I guess?”
Sasha huffed out a bewildered laugh. She brushed a lock of dampened, black hair behind Kinsey’s ear. “God, I love you.”
She hadn’t meant to say it. The words just slipped out, too big, too true to keep to herself any longer.
But before Sasha could start worrying about whether it was too soon or too late or just plain unwelcome, Kinsey’s eyes glittered, a sigh of relief relaxing her shoulders. “Thank goodness,” she breathed, pulling Sasha in by her coat pockets.
Sasha grinned as their lips met, her uncertainty uncoiling from around her spine. This was what she’d been running after, all those times she fled into the woods. Not isolation. Not a different life. Just someone who saw beyond the sarcasm and accepted her for who she was. Someone who was in her corner no matter what. Someone who made her feel like she’d finally found a home.
“Oh!” Kinsey ducked back halfway through a kiss, a look of horror on her face, fingers still hooked in Sasha’s coat pockets.
“What?” Sasha asked, tensing.
Kinsey scowled. “I love you, too.”
Sasha stared. And then she was laughing, a big, bright belly-laugh she couldn’t have stopped if she wanted to. She planted kisses all over Kinsey’s face, love and joy flooding through her, filling her up until she was positively overflowing. “Thank goodness.”