Page 47 of Hearts on the Mend

Nolan listens, peels off my socks, then carefully paints my toes as I switch on another episode of The Great British Bake Off.

“Wait, why do you even care?” I ask.

He looks up, the tiny nail polish container pinched between his fingers. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so fucking hot. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Seemed like you needed a friend.”

“Is that what we are, Nolan? Friends?”

He shakes his head. “We were never meant to be friends, Cassie, but I can pretend if it helps.”

I don’t want to be friends either. But what does that make us?

I press my lips together and pick at a loose thread on the hem of my sleeve before pulling my feet out of his hands. “Thanks,” I whisper, curling up underneath the blanket, back in my corner of the couch, where I fall asleep.

The TV’s off when I wake up a few hours later, and there’s an extra blanket tucked around me. I tiptoe to the kitchen for a glass of water, only to find Nolan asleep in his room, back where he’s supposed to be, with the kitten cradled in his arms.

I stand in the doorway a beat too long before I make myself walk past it.

And I wander up to my bedroom, alone.

Chapter 15

Nolan

Ipush in through the back door with an armful of split logs, kicking my boots against the doorway to shake off the snow. A frigid wind whistles through the bare trees at my back.

Ruby charges into the kitchen in a sparkly dress with a pretend firefighter’s coat thrown on top. Her hair is brushed and braided, and a red plastic firefighter’s helmet slides forward over her eyebrows. Not sure how she can see.

“Big day, huh?” I ask, setting down the logs.

The coffeemaker groans on the counter. Not sure it’s going to make it much longer with how hard Cassie and I use it.

“Pssh.” Ruby slides across the wide pine floors. “It’s always a big day when I’m so short.”

She’s got me there. For the last two weeks, Ruby has told me approximately 307 times that her dad is going to speak at Career Day.

Another log goes into the woodstove before I pour two cups of coffee. “What’s a good breakfast for a firefighter?”

She tosses her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes. “You tell me, Nollie. I’m only six. You’ve been fighting fires for like one hundred years.”

Peeking into the microwave, I’m relieved that there’re still a few muffins left over that Cassie baked earlier in the week—blueberry streusel.

“I usually eat oatmeal.”

“Yuck.” She plops into her chair at the table, leaning on her elbows. “Oatmeal looks like when I threw up after Myles’s birthday. Big, chunky mess.”

No wonder she doesn’t say opie-meal anymore.

I waggle my eyebrows, grabbing a banana and tossing it onto a plate, then set both in front of her. “Let’s have some milk too.”

I hand her her cup just as Cassie bursts through the doorway, her hair wet and slicked back into a bun. She sighs, nicking the to-go coffee cup I poured on the counter for her. “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”

A curl of satisfaction hits me in the gut at the small smile on her lips. We’ve been pretending as if that kiss didn’t happen on the beach, how close we were to repeating the action on the couch the other night.

“Pick up your muffin and banana, and let’s head out, Ruby. We’ve got to go. Big day.”