Page 65 of Just One Kiss

Thank you,

Carly Collins

* * *

Carly sat in the passenger seat of Josh’s truck, trying her best not to remember a single thing about that little fishing cabin her dad kept on the edge of town.

The cabin had been in their family for years, and her father swore that even just leaving their house felt like a vacation, regardless of the fact that it was barely twenty minutes away.

“I emailed that swimmer,” Carly said, mostly to break up the silence.

Josh glanced at her then back to the road. “And?”

“I just sent it, so we’ll see.”

“Should we reconsider this surgery?” Josh asked.

As they drove, she kept her eyes glued on a big white farmhouse with four kids out front jumping on a trampoline.

“I think he needs the ICD no matter what,” Carly said. “And Dr. Roby really is a good surgeon.”

“Should we maybe get a second opinion?” Josh asked.

Carly didn’t want to think about it. Dr. Roby had a big ego and a lot of pull at the hospital. If she disregarded his advice and Jaden started skiing, he would certainly hear about it.

And then what? She would look like she didn’t trust her own superiors. That didn’t bode well for someone wanting to move up the ranks.

But her son was more important than her career. And skiing was important to her son.

“Let’s just see what Elizabeth says.”

They pulled up in front of the cabin and Josh killed the engine. He’d packed his things into a duffel bag and picked her up promptly at nine that morning, fresh coffee waiting for her in the cab of his truck.

His willingness to bring her coffee when she needed it was rapidly becoming one of his best qualities.

She tossed a quick glance at him, then pretended this old cabin had zero effect on her.

Nonchalantwas the word of the day.

Sure, I can be in this place and not think about the stupid things we used to do here when we were kids. I can pretend we didn’t play house and act like we were a whole lot older than we really were. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

She opened the truck door and made a beeline for the porch. To the right, underneath a pot of dead flowers, was a single silver key, same one Dad had left there all those years ago.

How they never got caught out here still remained a mystery. Her father’s trust in her sometimes shamed her all by itself.

She stuck the key in the door and pushed it open, a musty, dusty smell hitting her nostrils. He came up behind her and inhaled.

“Oh, Josh, I don’t know if you can stay here.” She looked around the dank space, filthy from lack of use.

“It’s fine.” He pushed past her and dropped his bags on the floor, dust particles catching the light gleaming in from the window.

“It’s not fine.”

“It will be when we’re done with it,” he said. “And I don’t mind cleaning this place on my own. You didn’t have to come.”

“Do you want me to go?”

He tilted his head and looked at her. “It’s a little late now.”

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