Starlee's Home (The Wayward Sons 3)

In the garage, Claire’s dad meets us and helps us load up the skis and a snowboard. Her mom is letting me borrow her boots and skis.

“Thank you so much,” I say to him, after trying them on over the dry wicking socks. Claire has gone back in the house.

“Any time, Starlee,” he says with a grin. “We’re just happy Claire has a new friend. She’s had a few tough years.”

“I know the feeling,” I say genuinely. “She’s been great to me since I started school.”

Claire walks back out and says, “You ready?”

“As much as I’ll ever be.”

We’re on the road when I ask, “So do the boys even know I’m coming?”

“I told them I’d invited you.”

“I hope they don’t feel obligated to hang back with me all day. I know they’ll want to ski on the more advanced slopes.” I fuss with the gloves in my lap. “I mean, worst case I can hang out in the lodge or whatever right?”

Claire glances over at me. “You’ve got to stop worrying so much. The boys will be fine. You’ll be fine. You may even be a natural at skiing and be up on those black diamonds before the day is over.”

I wrinkle my nose. “You really think so?”

“No. Do not go on the black diamonds. Seriously. You’ll break yo

ur neck, but everything else; yes. You’ll be fine. It’ll be fun.” She stops at a red light. “And stop thinking of yourself as an obligation when it comes to the guys. They are into you. Like realllllllly into you. Hanging back with you on the beginner slope is not an issue. They just want to be with you.”

She’s right, of course. They’re waiting in the parking lot—the four of them, dressed warmly and ready for the day. Other classmates are nearby. Guys from the football team and people I know from the serving club. Christina’s dominating her little group in tight-fitting ski pants and puffy earmuffs. It’s not an official school activity—there are no adults—but coming out here seems normal for them. They’re all prepped and ready. I know Claire wants me to be confident, but I can’t. I’m just too out of my element.

As usual, the boys are onto me before even I am. They’ve already removed the equipment from the roof of the SUV and Dexter comes over.

“So we have a plan,” he says, reaching for my zipper and tugging it up. “Obviously, this is the first time you’re skiing, so we’ll take turns spending time with you. Jake first.”

“Why Jake?” I look over at him lifting the skis over his head.

“Because just like you’re good at tutoring in reading and I’m good at baking pies, Jake is really good at teaching sports to people.”

“I really don’t want to ruin your day.”

He smiles and winks. “Hey, we get to decide how to ruin our day, not you.”

I’m a tiny bit jealous when everyone heads different directions, heading off to the higher slopes. I see Christina glide away like a pro and I frown, wishing I could shoot lasers from my eyes.

“You know she’s like a troll. You keep feeding her with attention and she only gets bigger,” Jake says from behind me. There’s no way she heard that but she gives us both a withering look when she sees him staying behind with me. That kind of makes the whole thing worth it.

“I just kind of hate her,” I say.

“I get it.” He pulls his hat down over his ears. “Ready to get started?”

“Promise not to laugh at me?” I say

“Did you laugh at me when you learned I have dyslexia?” He gives me a quick kiss, mouth warm in the cold air. “Come on, let’s get you on the slopes.”

I fall. A lot. But I also laugh, and every time I hit the ground, Jake gets the opportunity to get handsy while helping me up. I do manage to go up and down the beginner slope and by the time George comes to take over, I’ve moved up a level.

“She’s a quick learner,” Jake says. His cheeks are red and the white of the snow makes his eyes a brilliant blue. “You guys hit that first course a few times and we’ll meet for lunch.”

Where Jake was all about technique and precision, George is just…George. He’s fun. Falling almost as much as I do, although I suspect it’s on purpose. He teaches me how to get on and off the ski lift, which has the added bonus of quiet time alone. He keeps me warm with kisses, nuzzling his cold nose against my neck. The first time I dismount off the lift he quickly glides out of the way, shouting, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Using my poles, I push toward him but then get moving too fast and off balance. I crash straight into him but he holds steady—holds me steady—and whispers in my ear, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re just trying come up with a way to climb on top of me.”